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diff --git a/old/66073-0.txt b/old/66073-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 48fa74d..0000000 --- a/old/66073-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3041 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Death in Venice, by Thomas Mann - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Death in Venice - -Author: Thomas Mann - -Translator: Kenneth Burke - -Release Date: August 16, 2021 [eBook #66073] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Images generously - made available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH IN VENICE *** - -THE - -DIAL - - - - -VOLUME LXXVI - - - - -_January to June, 1924_ - - - - -THE DIAL PUBLISHING COMPANY - - - - -MARCH 1924 - - - - -DEATH IN VENICE - -BY THOMAS MANN - - - - -_Translated From the German by Kenneth Burke_ - - - - -CONTENTS -CHAPTER I -CHAPTER II -CHAPTER III -CHAPTER IV -CHAPTER V - - - - -I - - -On a spring afternoon of the year 19--, when our continent lay under -such threatening weather for whole months, Gustav Aschenbach, or von -Aschenbach as his name read officially after his fiftieth birthday, had -left his apartment on the Prinzregentenstrasse in Munich and had gone -for a long walk. Overwrought by the trying and precarious work of the -forenoon--which had demanded a maximum wariness, prudence, penetration, -and rigour of the will--the writer had not been able even after the noon -meal to break the impetus of the productive mechanism within him, that -_motus animi continuus_ which constitutes, according to Cicero, the -foundation of eloquence; and he had not attained the healing sleep -which--what with the increasing exhaustion of his strength--he needed in -the middle of each day. So he had gone outdoors soon after tea, in the -hopes that air and movement would restore him and prepare him for a -profitable evening. - -It was the beginning of May, and after cold, damp weeks a false -midsummer had set in. The English Gardens, although the foliage was -still fresh and sparse, were as pungent as in August, and in the parts -nearer the city had been full of conveyances and promenaders. At the -Aumeister, which he had reached by quieter and quieter paths, Aschenbach -had surveyed for a short time the Wirtsgarten with its lively crowds and -its border of cabs and carriages. From here, as the sun was sinking, he -had started home, outside the park, across the open fields; and since he -felt tired and a storm was threatening from the direction of Föhring, -he waited at the North Cemetery for the tram which would take him -directly back to the city. - -It happened that he found no one in the station or its vicinity. There -was not a vehicle to be seen, either on the paved Ungererstrasse, with -its solitary glistening rails stretching out towards Schwabing, or on -the Föhringer Chaussee. Behind the fences of the stone-masons' -establishments, where the crosses, memorial tablets, and monuments -standing for sale formed a second, uninhabited burial ground, there was -no sign of life; and opposite him the Byzantine structure of the Funeral -Hall lay silent in the reflection of the departing day; its façade, -ornamented in luminous colours with Greek crosses and hieratic -paintings, above which were displayed inscriptions symmetrically -arranged in gold letters, and texts chosen to bear on the life beyond; -such as, "They enter into the dwelling of the Lord," or, "The light of -eternity shall shine upon them." And for some time as he stood waiting -he found a grave diversion in spelling out the formulas and letting his -mind's eye lose itself in their transparent mysticism, when, returning -from his reveries, he noticed in the portico, above the two apocalyptic -animals guarding the steps, a man whose somewhat unusual appearance gave -his thoughts an entirely new direction. - -Whether he had just now come out from the inside through the bronze -door, or had approached and mounted from the outside unobserved, -remained uncertain. Aschenbach, without applying himself especially to -the matter, was inclined to believe the former. Of medium height, thin, -smooth-shaven, and noticeably pug-nosed, the man belonged to the -red-haired type and possessed the appropriate fresh milky complexion. -Obviously, he was not of Bavarian extraction, since at least the white -and straight-brimmed straw hat that covered his head gave his appearance -the stamp of a foreigner, of someone who had come from a long distance. -To be sure, he was wearing the customary knapsack strapped across his -shoulders, and a belted suit of rough yellow wool; his left arm was -resting on his thigh, and his grey storm cape was thrown across it. In -his right hand he held a cane with an iron ferrule, which he had stuck -diagonally into the ground, and, with his feet crossed, was leaning his -hip against the crook. His head was raised so that the Adam's-apple -protruded hard and bare on a scrawny neck emerging from a loose -sport-shirt. And he was staring sharply off into the distance, with -colourless, red-lidded eyes between which stood two strong, vertical -wrinkles peculiarly suited to his short, turned-up nose. Thus--and -perhaps his elevated position helped to give the impression--his bearing -had something majestic and commanding about it, something bold, or even -savage. For whether he was grimacing because he was blinded by the -setting sun, or whether it was a case of a permanent distortion of the -physiognomy, his lips seemed too short, they were so completely pulled -back from his teeth that these were exposed even to the gums, and stood -out white and long. - -It is quite possible that Aschenbach, in his half-distracted, -half-inquisitive examination of the stranger, had been somewhat -inconsiderate, for he suddenly became aware that his look was being -answered, and indeed so militantly, so straight in the eye, so plainly -with the intention of driving the thing through to the very end and -compelling him to capitulate, that he turned away uncomfortably and -began walking along by the fences, deciding casually that he would pay -no further attention to the man. The next minute he had forgotten him. -But perhaps the exotic element in the stranger's appearance had worked -on his imagination; or a new physical or spiritual influence of some -sort had come into play. He was quite astonished to note a peculiar -inner expansion, a kind of roving unrest, a youthful longing after -far-off places: a feeling so vivid, so new, or so long dormant and -neglected, that, with his hands behind his back and his eyes on the -ground, he came to a sudden stop, and examined into the nature and -purport of this emotion. - -It was the desire for travel, nothing more; although, to be sure, it had -attacked him violently, and was heightened to a passion, even to the -point of an hallucination. His yearnings crystallized; his imagination, -still in ferment from his hours of work, actually pictured all the -marvels and terrors of a manifold world which it was suddenly struggling -to conceive. He saw a landscape, a tropical swampland under a heavy, -murky sky, damp, luxuriant, and enormous, a kind of prehistoric -wilderness of islands, bogs, and arms of water, sluggish with mud; he -saw, near him and in the distance, the hairy shafts of palms rising out -of a rank lecherous thicket, out of places where the plant-life was fat, -swollen, and blossoming exorbitantly; he saw strangely misshapen trees -sending their roots into the ground, into stagnant pools with greenish -reflections; and here, between floating flowers which were milk-white -and large as dishes, birds of a strange nature, high-shouldered, with -crooked bills, were standing in the muck, and looking motionlessly to -one side; between dense, knotted stalks of bamboo he saw the glint from -the eyes of a crouching tiger--and he felt his heart knocking with fear -and with puzzling desires. Then the image disappeared; and with a shake -of his head Aschenbach resumed his walk along past the fences of the -stone-masons' establishments. - -Since the time, at least, when he could command the means to enjoy the -advantages of moving about the world as he pleased, he had considered -travelling simply as an hygienic precaution which must be complied with -now and then despite one's feelings and one's preferences. Too busy with -the tasks arranged for him by his interest in his own ego and in the -problems of Europe, too burdened with the onus of production, too little -prone to diversion, and in no sense an amateur of the varied amusements -of the great world, he had been thoroughly satisfied with such knowledge -of the earth's surface as any one can get without moving far out of his -own circle; and he had never even been tempted to leave Europe. -Especially now that his life was slowly on the decline, and that the -artist's fear of not having finished--this uneasiness lest the clock run -down before he had done his part and given himself completely--could no -longer be waived aside as a mere whim, he had confined his outer -existence almost exclusively to the beautiful city which had become his -home and to the rough country house which he had built in the mountains -and where he spent the rainy summers. - -Further, this thing which had laid hold of him so belatedly, but with -such suddenness, was very readily moderated and adjusted by the force of -his reason and of a discipline which he had practised since youth. He -had intended carrying his life work forward to a certain point before -removing to the country. And the thought of knocking about the world for -months and neglecting his work during this time, seemed much too lax and -contrary to his plans; it really could not be considered seriously. Yet -he knew only too well what the reasons were for this unexpected -temptation. It was the urge to escape--he admitted to himself--this -yearning for the new and the remote, this appetite for freedom, for -unburdening, for forgetfulness; it was a pressure away from his work, -from the steady drudgery of a coldly passionate service. To be sure, he -loved this work and almost loved the enervating battle that was fought -daily between a proud tenacious will--so often tested--and this growing -weariness which no one was to suspect and which must not betray itself -in his productions by any sign of weakness or negligence. But it seemed -wise not to draw the bow overtightly, and not to strangle by sheer -obstinacy so strongly persistent an appetite. He thought of his work, -thought of the place at which yesterday and now again to-day he had been -forced to leave off, and which, it seemed, would yield neither to -patience and coaxing nor to a definite attack. He examined it again, -trying to break through or to circumvent the deadlock, but he gave up -with a shudder of repugnance. There was no unusual difficulty here; what -balked him were the scruples of aversion, which took the form of a -fastidious insatiability. Even as a young man this insatiability had -meant to him the very nature, the fullest essence, of talent; and for -that reason he had restrained and chilled his emotions, since he was -aware that they incline to content themselves with a happy -approximation, a state of semi-completion. Were these enslaved emotions -now taking their vengeance on him, by leaving him in the lurch, by -refusing to forward and lubricate his art; and were they bearing off -with them every enjoyment, every live interest in form and expression? - -Not that he was producing anything bad; his years gave him at least this -advantage, that he felt himself at all times in full and easy possession -of his craftsmanship. But while the nation honoured him for this, he -himself was not content; and it seemed to him that his work lacked the -marks of that fiery and fluctuating emotionalism which is an enormous -thing in one's favour, and which, while it argues an enjoyment on the -part of the author, also constitutes, more than any depth of content, -the enjoyment of the amateur. He feared the summer in the country, alone -in the little house with the maid who prepared his meals, and the -servant who brought them to him. He feared the familiar view of the -mountain peaks and the slopes which would stand about him in his boredom -and his discontent. Consequently there was need of a break in some new -direction. If the summer was to be endurable and productive, he must -attempt something out of his usual orbit; he must relax, get a change of -air, bring an element of freshness into the blood. To travel, then--that -much was settled. Not far, not all the way to the tigers. But one night -on the sleeper, and a rest of three or four weeks at some pleasant -popular resort in the South. . . . - -He thought this out while the noise of the electric tram came nearer -along the Ungererstrasse; and as he boarded it he decided to devote the -evening to the study of maps and time-tables. On the platform it -occurred to him to look around for the man in the straw hat, his -companion during that most significant time spent waiting at the -station. But his whereabouts remained uncertain, as he was not to be -seen either at the place where he was formerly standing, or anywhere -else in the vicinity of the station, or on the car itself. - - - - -II - - -The author of that lucid and powerful prose epic built around the life -of Frederick of Prussia; the tenacious artist who, after long -application, wove rich, varied strands of human destiny together under -one single predominating theme in the fictional tapestry known as Maya; -the creator of that stark tale which is called The Wretch and which -pointed out for an entire oncoming generation the possibility of some -moral certainty beyond pure knowledge; finally, the writer (and this -sums up briefly the works of his mature period) of the impassioned -treatise on Art and the Spirit, whose capacity for mustering facts, and, -further, whose fluency in their presentation, led cautious judges to -place this treatise alongside Schiller's conclusions on naïve and -sentimental poetry--Gustav Aschenbach, then, was the son of a higher law -official, and was born in L----, a leading city in the Province of -Silesia. His forbears had been officers, magistrates, government -functionaries, men who had led severe, steady lives serving their king, -their state. A deeper strain of spirituality had been manifest in them -once, in the person of a preacher; the preceding generation had brought -a brisker, more sensuous blood into the family through the author's -mother, daughter of a Bohemian band-master. The traces of foreignness in -his features came from her. A marriage of sober painstaking -conscientiousness with impulses of a darker, more fiery nature had had -an artist as its result, and this particular artist. - -Since his whole nature was centred around acquiring a reputation, he -showed himself, if not exactly precocious, at least (thanks to the -firmness and pithiness of his personality, his accent) ripened and -adjusted to the public at an early age. Almost as a schoolboy he had -made a name for himself. Within ten years he had learned to face the -world through the medium of his writing-table, to discharge the -obligations of his fame in a correspondence which (since many claims are -pressed on the successful, the trustworthy) had to be brief as well as -pleasant and to the point. At forty, wearied by the vicissitudes and the -exertion of his own work, he had to manage a daily mail which bore the -postmarks of countries in all parts of the world. - -Equally removed from the banal and the eccentric, his talents were so -constituted as to gain both the confidence of the general public and the -stable admiration and sympathy of the critical. Thus even as a young man -continually devoted to the pursuit of craftsmanship--and that of no -ordinary kind--he had never known the careless freedom of youth. When, -around thirty-five years of age, he had been taken ill in Vienna, one -sharp observer said of him in company, "You see, Aschenbach has always -lived like this," and the speaker contracted the fingers of his left -hand into a fist; "never like this," and he let his open hand droop -comfortably from the arm of his chair. That hit the mark; and the -heroic, the ethical about it all was that he was not of a strong -constitution, and though he was pledged by his nature to these steady -efforts, he was not really born to them. - -Considerations of ill-health had kept him from attending school as a -boy, and had compelled him to receive instruction at home. He had grown -up alone, without comrades--and he was forced to realize soon enough -that he belonged to a race which often lacked, not talent, but that -physical substructure which talent relies on for its fullest fruition: a -race accustomed to giving its best early, and seldom extending its -faculties over the years. But his favourite phrase was "carrying -through"; in his novel on Frederick he saw the pure apotheosis of this -command, which struck him as the essential concept of the virtuous in -action and passion. Also, he wished earnestly to grow old, since he had -always maintained that the only artistry which can be called truly -great, comprehensive, yes even truly admirable, is that which is -permitted to bear fruits characteristic of each stage in human -development. - -Since he must carry the responsibilities of his talent on frail -shoulders, and wanted to go a long way, the primary requirement was -discipline--and fortunately discipline was his direct inheritance from -his father's side. By forty, fifty, or at an earlier age when others are -still slashing about with enthusiasm, and are contentedly putting off to -some later date the execution of plans on a large scale, he would start -the day early, dashing cold water over his chest and back, and then with -a couple of tall wax candles in silver candlesticks at the head of his -manuscript, he would pay out to his art, in two or three eager, -scrupulous morning hours, the strength which he had accumulated in -sleep. It was pardonable, indeed it was a direct tribute to the -effectiveness of his moral scheme, that the uninitiated took his Maya -world, and the massive epic machinery upon which the life of the hero -Frederick was unrolled, as evidence of long breath and sustaining power. -While actually they had been built up layer by layer, in small daily -allotments, through hundreds and hundreds of single inspirations. And if -they were so excellent in both composition and texture, it was solely -because their creator had held out for years under the strain of one -single work, with a steadiness of will and a tenacity comparable to that -which conquered his native province; and because, finally, he had turned -over his most vital and valuable hours to the problem of minute -revision. - -In order that a significant work of the mind may exert immediately some -broad and deep effect, a secret relationship, or even conformity, must -exist between the personal destiny of the author and the common destiny -of his contemporaries. People do not know why they raise a work of art -to fame. Far from being connoisseurs, they believe that they see in it -hundreds of virtues which justify so much interest; but the true reason -for their applause is an unconscious sympathy. Aschenbach had once -stated quite plainly in some remote place that nearly everything great -which comes into being does so in spite of something--in spite of sorrow -or suffering, poverty, destitution, physical weakness, depravity, -passion, or a thousand other handicaps. But that was not merely an -observation; it was a discovery, the formula of his life and reputation, -the key to his work. And what wonder then that it was also the -distinguishing moral trait, the dominating gesture, of his most -characteristic figures? - -Years before, one shrewd analyst had written of the new hero-type to -which this author gave preference, and which kept turning up in -variations of one sort or another: he called it the conception of "an -intellectual and youthful masculinity" which "stands motionless, -haughty, ashamed, with jaw set, while swords and spear-points beset the -body." That was beautiful and ingenious; and it was exact, although it -may have seemed to suggest too much passivity. For to be poised against -fatality, to meet adverse conditions gracefully, is more than simple -endurance; it is an act of aggression, a positive triumph--and the -figure of Sebastian is the most beautiful figure, if not of art as a -whole, at least of the art of literature. Looking into this fictional -world, one saw: a delicate self-mastery by which any inner -deterioration, any biological decay was kept concealed from the eyes of -the world; a crude, vicious sensuality capable of fanning its rising -passions into pure flame, yes, even of mounting to dominance in the -realm of beauty; a pallid weakness which draws from the glowing depths -of the soul the strength to bow whole arrogant peoples before the foot -of the cross, or before the feet of weakness itself; a charming manner -maintained in his cold, strict service to form; a false, precarious mode -of living, and the keenly enervating melancholy and artifice of the born -deceiver--to observe such trials as this was enough to make one question -whether there really was any heroism other than weakness. And in any -case, what heroism could be more in keeping with the times? Gustav -Aschenbach was the one poet among the many workers on the verge of -exhaustion: all those over-burdened, used-up, tenacious moralists of -production who, delicately built and destitute of means, can rely for a -time at least on will-power and the shrewd husbandry of their resources -to secure the effects of greatness. There are many such: they are the -heroes of the period. And they all found themselves in his works; here -they were indeed, upheld, intensified, applauded; they were grateful to -him, they acclaimed him. - -In his time he had been young and raw; and misled by his age he had -blundered in public. He had stumbled, had exposed himself; both in -writing and in talk he had offended against caution and tact. But he had -acquired the dignity which, as he insisted, is the innate goad and -craving of every great talent; in fact, it could be said that his entire -development had been a conscious undeviating progression away from the -embarrassments of scepticism and irony, and towards dignity. - -The general masses are satisfied by vigour and tangibility of treatment -rather than by any close intellectual processes; but youth, with its -passion for the absolute, can be arrested only by the problematical. And -Aschenbach had been absolute, problematical, as only a youth could be. -He had been a slave to the intellect, had played havoc with knowledge, -had ground up his seed crops, had divulged secrets, had discredited -talent, had betrayed art--yes, while his modellings were entertaining -the faithful votaries, filling them with enthusiasm, making their lives -more keen, this youthful artist was taking the breath away from the -generation then in its twenties by his cynicisms on the questionable -nature of art, and of artistry itself. - -But it seems that nothing blunts the edge of a noble, robust mind more -quickly and more thoroughly than the sharp and bitter corrosion of -knowledge; and certainly the moody radicalism of the youth, no matter -how conscientious, was shallow in comparison with his firm determination -as an older man and a master to deny knowledge, to reject it, to pass it -with raised head, in so far as it is capable of crippling, discouraging, -or degrading to the slightest degree, our will, acts, feelings, or even -passions. How else could the famous story of The Wretch be understood -than as an outburst of repugnance against the disreputable psychologism -of the times: embodied in the figure of that soft and stupid half-clown -who pilfers a destiny for himself by guiding his wife (from -powerlessness, from lasciviousness, from ethical frailty) into the arms -of an adolescent, and believes that he may through profundity commit -vileness? The verbal pressure with which he here cast out the outcast -announced the return from every moral scepticism, from all -fellow-feeling with the engulfed: it was the counter-move to the laxity -of the sympathetic principle that to understand all is to forgive -all--and the thing that was here well begun, even nearly completed, was -that "miracle of reborn ingenuousness" which was taken up a little later -in one of the author's dialogues expressly and not without a certain -discreet emphasis. Strange coincidences! Was it as a result of this -rebirth, this new dignity and sternness, that his feeling for beauty--a -discriminating purity, simplicity, and evenness of attack which -henceforth gave his productions such an obvious, even such a deliberate -stamp of mastery and classicism--showed an almost excessive -strengthening about this time? But ethical resoluteness in the exclusion -of science, of emancipatory and restrictive knowledge--does this not in -turn signify a simplification, a reduction morally of the world to too -limited terms, and thus also a strengthened capacity for the forbidden, -the evil, the morally impossible? And does not form have two aspects? Is -it not moral and unmoral at once--moral in that it is the result and -expression of discipline, but unmoral, and even immoral, in that by -nature it contains an indifference to morality, is calculated, in fact, -to make morality bend beneath its proud and unencumbered sceptre? - -Be that as it may. An evolution is a destiny; and why should his -evolution, which had been upheld by the general confidence of a vast -public, not run through a different course from one accomplished outside -the lustre and the entanglements of fame? Only chronic vagabondage will -find it tedious and be inclined to scoff when a great talent outgrows -the libertine chrysalis-stage, learns to seize upon and express the -dignity of the mind, and superimposes a formal etiquette upon a solitude -which had been filled with unchastened and rigidly isolated sufferings -and struggles and had brought all this to a point of power and honour -among men. Further, how much sport, defiance, indulgence there is in the -self-formation of a talent! Gradually something official, didactic crept -into Gustav Aschenbach's productions, his style in later life fought shy -of any abruptness and boldness, any subtle and unexpected contrasts; he -inclined towards the fixed and standardized, the conventionally elegant, -the conservative, the formal, the formulated, nearly. And, as is -traditionally said of Louis XIV, with the advancing years he came to -omit every common word from his vocabulary. At about this time it -happened that the educational authorities included selected pages by him -in their prescribed school readers. This was deeply sympathetic to his -nature, and he did not decline when a German prince who had just mounted -to the throne raised the author of the Frederick to nobility on the -occasion of his fiftieth birthday. After a few years of unrest, a few -tentative stopping-places here and there, he soon chose Munich as his -permanent home, and lived there in a state of middle-class -respectability such as fits in with the life of the mind in certain -individual instances. The marriage which, when still young, he had -contracted with a girl of an educated family came to an end with her -death after a short period of happiness. He was left with a daughter, -now married. He had never had a son. - -Gustav von Aschenbach was somewhat below average height, dark, and -smooth-shaven. His head seemed a bit too large in comparison with his -almost dapper figure. His hair was brushed straight back, thinning out -towards the crown, but very full about the temples, and strongly marked -with grey; it framed a high, ridged forehead. Gold spectacles with -rimless lenses cut into the bridge of his bold, heavy nose. The mouth -was big, sometimes drooping, sometimes suddenly pinched and firm. His -cheeks were thin and wrinkled, his well-formed chin had a slight cleft. -This head, usually bent patiently to one side, seemed to have gone -through momentous experiences, and yet it was his art which had produced -those effects in his face, effects which are elsewhere the result of -hard and agitated living. Behind this brow the brilliant repartee of the -dialogue on war between Voltaire and the king had been born; these eyes, -peering steadily and wearily from behind their glasses, had seen the -bloody inferno of the lazaret in the Seven Years' War. Even as it -applies to the individual, art is a heightened mode of existence. It -gives deeper pleasures, it consumes more quickly. It carves into its -servants' faces the marks of imaginary and spiritual adventures, and -though their external activities may be as quiet as a cloister, it -produces a lasting voluptuousness, over-refinement, fatigue, and -curiosity of the nerves such as can barely result from a life filled -with illicit passions and enjoyments. - - - - -III - - -Various matters of a literary and social nature delayed his departure -until about two weeks after that walk in Munich. Finally he gave orders -to have his country house ready for occupancy within a month; and one -day between the middle and the end of May he took the night train for -Trieste, where he made a stop-over of only twenty-four hours, and -embarked the following morning for Pola. - -What he was hunting was something foreign and unrelated to himself which -would at the same time be quickly within reach; and so he stopped at an -island in the Adriatic which had become well-known in recent years. It -lay not far off the Istrian coast, with beautifully rugged cliffs -fronting the open sea, and natives who dressed in variegated tatters and -made strange sounds when they spoke. But rain and a heavy atmosphere, a -provincial and exclusively Austrian patronage at the hotel, and the lack -of that restfully intimate association with the sea which can be gotten -only by a soft, sandy beach, irritated him, and prevented him from -feeling that he had found the place he was looking for. Something within -was disturbing him, and drawing him he was not sure where. He studied -sailing dates, he looked about him questioningly, and of a sudden, as a -thing both astounding and self-evident, his goal was before him. If you -wanted to reach over night the unique, the fabulously different, where -did you go? But that was plain. What was he doing here? He had lost the -trail. He had wanted to go there. He did not delay in giving notice of -his mistake in stopping here. In the early morning mist, a week and a -half after his arrival on the island, a fast motorboat was carrying him -and his luggage back over the water to the naval port, and he landed -there just long enough to cross the gangplank to the damp deck of a ship -which was lying under steam ready for the voyage to Venice. - -It was an old hulk flying the Italian flag, decrepit, sooty, and -mournful. In a cave-like, artificially lighted inside cabin where -Aschenbach, immediately upon boarding the ship, was conducted by a dirty -hunchbacked sailor who smirked politely, there was sitting behind a -table, his hat cocked over his forehead and a cigarette stump in the -corner of his mouth, a man with a goatee, and with the face of an -old-style circus director, who was taking down the particulars of the -passengers with professional grimaces and distributing the tickets. "To -Venice!" he repeated Aschenbach's request, as he extended his arm and -plunged his pen into the pasty dregs of a precariously tilted inkwell. -"To Venice, first class! At your service, sir." And he wrote a generous -scrawl, sprinkled it with blue sand out of a box, let the sand run off -into a clay bowl, folded the paper with sallow, bony fingers, and began -writing again. "A happily chosen destination!" he chatted on. "Ah, -Venice! A splendid city! A city of irresistible attractiveness for the -educated on account of its history as well as its present-day charms!" -The smooth rapidity of his movements and the empty words accompanying -them had something anaesthetic and reassuring about them, much as though -he feared lest the traveller might still be vacillating in his decision -to go to Venice. He handled the cash briskly, and let the change fall on -the spotted table-cover with the skill of a croupier. "A pleasant -journey, sir!" he said with a theatrical bow. "Gentlemen, I have the -honour of serving you!" he called out immediately after, with his arm -upraised, and he acted as if business were in full swing, although no -one else was there to require his attention. Aschenbach returned to the -deck. - -With one arm on the railing, he watched the passengers on board and the -idlers who loitered around the dock waiting for the ship to sail. The -second class passengers, men and women, were huddled together on the -foredeck, using boxes and bundles as seats. A group of young people made -up the travellers on the first deck, clerks from Pola, it seemed, who -had gathered in the greatest excitement for an excursion to Italy. They -made a considerable fuss about themselves and their enterprise, -chattered, laughed, enjoyed their own antics self-contentedly, and, -leaning over the hand-rails, shouted flippantly and mockingly at their -comrades who, with portfolios under their arms, were going up and down -the waterfront on business and kept threatening the picnickers with -their canes. One, in a bright yellow summer suit of ultra-fashionable -cut, with a red necktie, and a rakishly tilted panama, surpassed all the -others in his crowing good humour. But as soon as Aschenbach looked at -him a bit more carefully, he discovered with a kind of horror that the -youth was a cheat. He was old, that was unquestionable. There were -wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. The faint crimson of the cheeks was -paint, the hair under his brilliantly decorated straw hat was a wig; his -neck was hollow and stringy, his turned-up moustache and the imperial on -his chin were dyed; the full set of yellow teeth which he displayed when -he laughed, a cheap artificial plate; and his hands, with signet rings -on both index fingers, were those of an old man. Fascinated with -loathing, Aschenbach watched him in his intercourse with his friends. -Did they not know, did they not observe that he was old, that he was not -entitled to wear their bright, foppish clothing, that he was not -entitled to play at being one of them? Unquestioningly, and as quite the -usual thing, it seemed, they allowed him among them, treating him as one -of their own kind and returning his jovial nudges in the ribs without -repugnance. How could that be? Aschenbach laid his hand on his forehead -and closed his eyes; they were hot, since he had had too little sleep. -He felt as though everything were not quite the same as usual, as though -some dream-like estrangement, some peculiar distortion of the world, -were beginning to take possession of him, and perhaps this could be -stopped if he hid his face for a time and then looked around him again. -Yet at this moment he felt as though he were swimming; and looking up -with an unreasoned fear, he discovered that the heavy, lugubrious body -of the ship was separating slowly from the walled bank. Inch by inch, -with the driving and reversing of the engine, the strip of dirty -glistening water widened between the dock and the side of the ship; and -after cumbersome manoeuvring, the steamer finally turned its nose -towards the open sea. Aschenbach crossed to the starboard side, where -the hunchback had set up a deck-chair for him, and a steward in a -spotted dress-coat asked after his wants. - -The sky was grey, the wind damp. Harbour and islands had been left -behind, and soon all land was lost in the haze. Flakes of coal dust, -bloated with moisture, fell over the washed deck, which would not dry. -After the first hour an awning was spread, since it had begun to rain. - -Bundled up in his coat, a book in his lap, the traveller rested, and the -hours passed unnoticed. It stopped raining; the canvas awning was -removed. The horizon was unbroken. The sea, empty, like an enormous -disk, lay stretched under the curve of the sky. But in empty -inarticulate space our senses lose also the dimensions of time, and we -slip into the incommensurate. As he rested, strange shadowy figures, the -old dandy, the goatee from the inside cabin, passed through his mind, -with vague gestures, muddled dream-words--and he was asleep. - -About noon he was called to a meal down in the corridor-like dining-hall -into which the doors opened from the sleeping-cabins; he ate near the -head of a long table, at the other end of which the clerks including the -old man had been drinking with the boisterous captain since ten o'clock. -The food was poor, and he finished rapidly. He felt driven outside to -look at the sky, to see if it showed signs of being brighter above -Venice. - -He had kept thinking that this had to occur, since the city had always -received him in full blaze. But sky and sea remained dreary and leaden, -at times a misty rain fell, and here he was reaching by water a -different Venice than he had ever found when approaching on land. He -stood by the forestays, looking in the distance, waiting for land. He -thought of the heavy-hearted, enthusiastic poet for whom the domes and -bell towers of his dreams had once risen out of these waters; he relived -in silence some of that reverence, happiness, and sorrow which had been -turned then into cautious song; and easily susceptible to sensations -already moulded, he asked himself wearily and earnestly whether some new -enchantment and distraction, some belated adventure of the emotions, -might still be held in store for this idle traveller. - -Then the flat coast emerged on the right; the sea was alive with fishing -smacks; the bathers' island appeared; it dropped behind to the left, the -steamer slowly entered the narrow port which is named after it; and on -the lagoon, facing gay ramshackle houses, it stopped completely, since -it had to wait for the barque of the health department. - -An hour passed before it appeared. He had arrived, and yet he had not; -no one was in any hurry, no one was driven by impatience. The young men -from Pola, patriotically attracted by the military bugle calls which -rang over the water from the vicinity of the public gardens, had come on -deck, and warmed by their Asti, they burst out with cheers for the -drilling _bersagliere._ But it was repulsive to see what a state the -primped-up old man had been brought to by his comradeship with youth. -His old head was not able to resist its wine like the young and robust: -he was painfully drunk. With glazed eyes, a cigarette between his -trembling fingers, he stood in one place, swaying backwards and forwards -from giddiness, and balancing himself laboriously. Since he would have -fallen at the first step, he did not trust himself from the spot--yet he -showed a deplorable insolence, buttonholed everyone who came near him, -stammered, winked, and tittered, lifted his wrinkled, ornamented index -finger in a stupid attempt at bantering, while he licked the corers of -his mouth with his tongue in the most abominably suggestive manner. -Aschenbach observed him darkly, and a feeling of numbness came over him -again, as though the world were displaying a faint but irresistible -tendency to distort itself into the peculiar and the grotesque: a -feeling which circumstances prevented him from surrendering himself to -completely, for just then the pounding activity of the engines commenced -again, and the ship, resuming a voyage which had been interrupted so -near its completion, passed through the San Marco canal. - -So he saw it again, the most remarkable of landing places, that blinding -composition of fantastic buildings which the Republic lays out before -the eyes of approaching seafarers: the soft splendour of the palace, the -Bridge of Sighs, on the bank the columns with lion and saint, the -advancing, showy flank of the enchanted temple, the glimpse through to -the archway, and the huge giant clock. And as he looked on he thought -that to reach Venice by land, on the rail-road, was like entering a -palace from the rear, and that the most unreal of cities should not be -approached except as he was now doing, by ship, over the high seas. - -The engine stopped, gondolas pressed in, the gangway was let down, -customs officials climbed on board and discharged their duties -perfunctorily; the disembarking could begin. Aschenbach made it -understood that he wanted a gondola to take him and his luggage to the -dock of those little steamers which ply between the city and the Lido, -since he intended to locate near the sea. His plans were complied with, -his wants were shouted down to the water, where the gondoliers were -wrangling with one another in dialect. He was still hindered from -descending; he was hindered by his trunk, which was being pulled and -dragged with difficulty down the ladder-like steps. So that for some -minutes he was not able to avoid the importunities of the atrocious old -man, whose drunkenness gave him a sinister desire to do the foreigner -parting honours. "We wish you a very agreeable visit," he bleated as he -made an awkward bow. "We leave with pleasant recollections! _Au revoir, -excusez_, and _bon jour_, your excellency!" His mouth watered, he -pressed his eyes shut, he licked the corners of his mouth, and the dyed -imperial turned up about his senile lips. "Our compliments," he mumbled, -with two fingertips on his mouth, "our compliments to our sweetheart, -the dearest prettiest sweetheart . . ." And suddenly his false upper -teeth fell down on his lower lip. Aschenbach was able to escape. "To our -sweetheart, our handsome sweetheart," he heard the cooing, hollow, -stuttering voice behind him, while supporting himself against the -handrail, he went down the gang-way. - -Who would not have to suppress a fleeting shudder, a vague timidity and -uneasiness, if it were a matter of boarding a Venetian gondola for the -first time or after several years? The strange craft, an entirely -unaltered survival from the times of balladry, with that peculiar -blackness which is found elsewhere only in coffins--it suggests silent, -criminal adventures in the rippling night, it suggests even more -strongly death itself, the bier and the mournful funeral, and the last -silent journey. And has it been observed that the seat of such a barque, -this arm-chair of coffin-black veneer and dull black upholstery, is the -softest, most luxuriant, most lulling seat in the world? Aschenbach -noted this when he had relaxed at the feet of the gondolier, opposite -his luggage, which lay neatly assembled on the prow. The rowers were -still wrangling, harshly, incomprehensibly, with threatening gestures. -But the strange silence of this canal city seemed to soften their -voices, to disembody them, and dissipate them over the water. It was -warm here in the harbour. Touched faintly by the warm breeze of the -sirocco, leaning back against the limber portions of the cushions, the -traveller closed his eyes in the enjoyment of a lassitude which was as -unusual with him as it was sweet. The trip would be short, he thought; -if only it went on for ever! He felt himself glide with a gentle motion -away from the crowd and the confusion of voices. - -It became quieter and quieter around him! There was nothing to be heard -but the splashing of the oar, the hollow slapping of the waves against -the prow of the boat as it stood above the water black and bold and -armed with its halberd-like tip, and a third sound, of speaking, of -whispering--the whispering of the gondolier, who was talking to himself -between his teeth, fitfully, in words that were pressed out by the -exertion of his arms. Aschenbach looked up, and was slightly astonished -to discover that the lagoon was widening, and he was headed for the open -sea. This seemed to indicate that he ought not to rest too much, but -should see to it that his wishes were carried out. - -"To the steamer dock!" he repeated, turning around completely and -looking into the face of the gondolier who stood behind on a raised -platform and towered up between him and the dun-coloured sky. He was a -man of unpleasant, even brutal, appearance, dressed in sailor blue, with -a yellow sash; a formless straw hat, its weave partially unravelled, was -tilted insolently on his head. The set of his face, the blond curly -moustache beneath a curtly turned-up nose, undoubtedly meant that he was -not Italian. Although of somewhat frail build, so that one would not -have thought him especially well suited to his trade, he handled the oar -with great energy, throwing his entire body into each stroke. -Occasionally, he drew back his lips from the exertion, and disclosed his -white teeth. Wrinkling his reddish brows, he gazed on past his -passenger, as he answered deliberately, almost gruffly: "You are going -to the Lido." Aschenbach replied: "Of course. But I have just taken the -gondola to get me across to San Marco. I want to use the _vaporetto._" - -"You cannot use the _vaporetto_, sir." - -"And why not?" - -"Because the _vaporetto_ will not haul luggage." - -That was so; Aschenbach remembered. He was silent. But the fellow's -harsh, presumptuous manner, so unusual towards a foreigner here, seemed -unbearable. He said: "That is my affair. Perhaps I want to put my things -in storage. You will turn back." There was silence. The oar splashed, -the water thudded against the bow. And the talking and whispering began -again. The gondolier was talking to himself between his teeth. - -What was to be done? This man was strangely insolent, and had an uncanny -decisiveness; the traveller, alone with him on the water, saw no way of -getting what he wanted. And besides, how softly he could rest, if only -he did not become excited! Hadn't he wanted the trip to go on and on for -ever? It was wisest to let things take their course, and the main thing -was that he was comfortable. The poison of inertia seemed to be issuing -from the seat, from this low, black-upholstered arm-chair, so gently -cradled by the oar strokes of the imperious gondolier behind him. The -notion that he had fallen into the hands of a criminal passed dreamily -across Aschenbach's mind--without the ability to summon his thoughts to -an active defence. The possibility that it was all simply a plan for -cheating him seemed more abhorrent. A feeling of duty or pride, a kind -of recollection that one should prevent such things, gave him the -strength to arouse himself once more. He asked: "What are you asking for -the trip?" - -Looking down upon him, the gondolier answered: "You will pay." - -It was plain how this should be answered. Aschenbach said mechanically: -"I shall pay nothing, absolutely nothing, if you don't take me where I -want to go." - -"You want to go to the Lido." - -"But not with you." - -"I am rowing you well." - -That is so, Aschenbach thought, and relaxed. That is so; you are rowing -me well. Even if you do have designs on my cash, and send me down to -Pluto with a blow of your oar from behind, you will have rowed me well. - -But nothing like that happened. They were even joined by others: a -boatload of musical brigands, men and women, who sang to guitar and -mandolin, riding persistently side by side with the gondola and filling -the silence over the water with their covetous foreign poetry. A hat was -held out, and Aschenbach threw in money. Then they stopped singing, and -rowed away. And again the muttering of the gondolier could be heard as -he talked fitfully and jerkily to himself. - -So they arrived, tossed in the wake of a steamer plying towards the -city. Two municipal officers, their hands behind their backs, their -faces turned in the direction of the lagoon, were walking back and forth -on the bank. Aschenbach left the gondola at the dock, supported by that -old man who is stationed with his grappling hook at each one of Venice's -landing-places. And since he had no small money, he crossed over to the -hotel by the steamer wharf to get change and pay the rower what was due -him. He got what he wanted in the lobby, he returned and found his -travelling bags in a cart on the dock, and gondola and gondolier had -vanished. - -"He got out in a hurry," said the old man with the grappling hook. "A -bad man, a man without a license, sir. He is the only gondolier who -doesn't have a license. The others telephoned here." - -Aschenbach shrugged his shoulders. - -"The gentleman rode for nothing," the old man said, and held out his -hat. Aschenbach tossed in a coin. He gave instructions to have his -luggage taken to the beach hotel, and followed the cart through the -avenue, the white-blossomed avenue which, lined on both sides with -taverns, shops, and boarding houses, runs across the island to the -shore. - -He entered the spacious hotel from the rear, by the terraced garden, and -passed through the vestibule and the lobby until he reached the desk. -Since he had been announced, he was received with obliging promptness. A -manager, a small frail flatteringly polite man with a black moustache -and a French style frock coat, accompanied him to the third floor in the -lift, and showed him his room, an agreeable place furnished in cherry -wood. It was decorated with strong-smelling flowers, and its high -windows afforded a view out across the open sea. He stepped up to one of -them after the employee had left; and while his luggage was being -brought up and placed in the room behind him, he looked down on the -beach (it was comparatively deserted in the afternoon) and on the -sunless ocean which was at flood tide and was sending long low waves -against the bank in a calm regular rhythm. - -The experiences of a man who lives alone and in silence are both vaguer -and more penetrating than those of people in society; his thoughts are -heavier, more odd, and touched always with melancholy. Images and -observations which could easily be disposed of by a glance, a smile, an -exchange of opinion, will occupy him unbearably, sink deep into the -silence, become full of meaning, become life, adventure, emotion. -Loneliness ripens the eccentric, the daringly and estrangingly -beautiful, the poetic. But loneliness also ripens the perverse, the -disproportionate, the absurd, and the illicit.--So, the things he had -met with on the trip, the ugly old fop with his twaddle about -sweethearts, the lawbreaking gondolier who was cheated of his pay, still -left the traveller uneasy. Without really providing any resistance to -the mind, without offering any solid stuff to think over, they were -nevertheless profoundly strange, as it seemed to him, and disturbing -precisely because of this contradiction. In the meanwhile, he greeted -the sea with his eyes, and felt pleasure at the knowledge that Venice -was so conveniently near. Finally he turned away, bathed his face, left -orders to the chambermaid for a few things he still needed done to make -his comfort complete, and let himself be taken to the ground floor by -the green-uniformed Swiss who operated the lift. - -He took his tea on the terrace facing the ocean, then descended and -followed the boardwalk for quite a way in the direction of the Hotel -Excelsior. When he returned it seemed time to dress for dinner. He did -this with his usual care and slowness, since he was accustomed to -working over his toilette. And yet he came down a little early to the -lobby where he found a great many of the hotel guests assembled, mixing -distantly and with a show of mutual indifference to one another, but all -waiting for meal time. He took a paper from the table, dropped into a -leather chair, and observed the company; they differed agreeably from -the guests where he had first stopped. - -A wide and tolerantly inclusive horizon was spread out before him. -Sounds of all the principal languages formed a subdued murmur. The -accepted evening dress, a uniform of good manners, brought all human -varieties into a fitting unity. There were Americans with their long wry -features, large Russian families, English ladies, German children with -French nurses. The Slavic element seemed to predominate. Polish was -being spoken nearby. - -It was a group of children gathered around a little wicker table, under -the protection of a teacher or governess: three young girls, apparently -fifteen to seventeen, and a long-haired boy about fourteen years old. -With astonishment Aschenbach noted that the boy was absolutely -beautiful. His face, pale and reserved, framed with honey-coloured hair, -the straight sloping nose, the lovely mouth, the expression of sweet and -godlike seriousness, recalled Greek sculpture of the noblest period; -and the complete purity of the forms was accompanied by such a rare -personal charm that, as he watched, he felt that he had never met with -anything equally felicitous in nature or the plastic arts. He was -further struck by the obviously intentional contrast with the principles -of upbringing which showed in the sisters' attire and bearing. The three -girls, the eldest of whom could be considered grown up, were dressed -with a chasteness and severity bordering on disfigurement. Uniformly -cloister-like costumes, of medium length, slate-coloured, sober, and -deliberately unbecoming in cut, with white turned-down collars as the -only relief, suppressed every possible appeal of shapeliness. Their -hair, brushed down flat and tight against the head, gave their faces a -nunlike emptiness and lack of character. Surely this was a mother's -influence, and it had not even occurred to her to apply the pedagogical -strictness to the boy which she seemed to find necessary for her girls. -It was clear that in his existence the first factors were gentleness and -tenderness. The shears had been resolutely kept from his beautiful hair; -like a Prince Charming's, it fell in curls over his forehead, his ears, -and still deeper, across his neck. The English sailor suit, with its -braids, stitchings, and embroideries, its puffy sleeves narrowing at the -ends and fitting snugly about the fine wrists of his still childish but -slender hands, gave the delicate figure something rich and luxurious. He -was sitting, half profile to the observer, one foot in its black -patent-leather shoe placed before the other, an elbow resting on the arm -of his wicker chair, a cheek pressed against his fist, in a position of -negligent good manners, entirely free of the almost subservient -stiffness to which his sisters seemed accustomed. Did he have some -illness? For his skin stood out as white as ivory against the golden -darkness of the surrounding curls. Or was he simply a pampered favourite -child, made this way by a doting and moody love? Aschenbach inclined to -believe the latter. Almost every artist is born with a rich and -treacherous tendency to recognize injustices which have created beauty, -and to meet aristocratic distinction with sympathy and reverence. - -A waiter passed through and announced in English that the meal was -ready. Gradually the guests disappeared through the glass door into the -dining hall. Stragglers crossed, coming from the entrance, or the lifts. -Inside, they had already begun serving, but the young Poles were still -waiting around the little wicker table; and Aschenbach, comfortably -propped in his deep chair, and with this beauty before his eyes, stayed -with them. - -The governess, a small corpulent middle-class woman with a red face, -finally gave the sign to rise. With lifted brows, she pushed back her -chair and bowed, as a large woman dressed in grey and richly jewelled -with pearls entered the lobby. This woman was advancing with coolness -and precision; her lightly powdered hair and the lines of her dress were -arranged with the simplicity which always signifies taste in those -quarters where devoutness is taken as one element of dignity. She might -have been the wife of some high German official. Except that her -jewellery added something fantastically lavish to her appearance; -indeed, it was almost priceless, and consisted of ear pendants and a -very long triple chain of softly glowing pearls, as large as cherries. - -The children had risen promptly. They bent over to kiss the hand of -their mother who, with a distant smile on her well preserved though -somewhat tired and peaked features, looked over their heads and directed -a few words to the governess in French. Then she walked to the glass -door. The children followed her: the girls in the order of their age, -after them the governess, the boy last. For some reason or other he -turned around before crossing the sill, and since no one else was in the -lobby his strange dusky eyes met those of Aschenbach who, his newspaper -on his knees, lost in thought, was gazing after the group. - -What he saw had not been unusual in the slightest detail. They had not -preceded the mother to the table; they had waited, greeted her with -respect, and observed the customary forms on entering the room. But it -had taken place so pointedly, with such an accent of training, duty, and -self-respect, that Aschenbach felt peculiarly touched by it all. He -delayed for a few moments, then he too crossed into the dining-room, and -was assigned to his table, which, as he noted with a brief touch of -regret, was very far removed from that of the Polish family. - -Weary, and yet intellectually active, he entertained himself during the -lengthy meal with abstract, or even transcendental things; he thought -over the secret union which the lawful must enter upon with the -individual for human beauty to result, from this he passed into general -problems of form and art, and at the end he found that his thoughts and -discoveries were like the seemingly felicitous promptings of a dream -which, when the mind is sobered, are seen to be completely empty and -unfit. After the meal, smoking, sitting, taking an occasional turn in -the park with its smell of nightfall, he went to bed early and spent the -night in a sleep deep and unbroken, but often enlivened with the -apparitions of dreams. - - - - -III (continued) - - -The weather did not improve any the following day. A land breeze was -blowing. Under a cloudy ashen sky, the sea lay in dull peacefulness; it -seemed shrivelled up, with a close dreary horizon, and it had retreated -from the beach, baring the long ribs of several sandbanks. As Aschenbach -opened his window he thought that he could detect the foul smell of the -lagoon. - -He felt depressed. He thought already of leaving. Once, years ago, after -several weeks of spring here, this same weather had afflicted him, and -impaired his health so seriously that he had to abandon Venice like a -fugitive. Was not this old feverish unrest again setting in, the -pressure in the temples, the heaviness of the eyelids? It would be -annoying to change his residence still another time; but if the wind did -not turn, he could not stay here. To be safe, he did not unpack -completely. He breakfasted at nine in the buffet-room provided for this -purpose between the lobby and the dining-room. - -That formal silence reigned here which is the ambition of large hotels. -The waiters who were serving walked about on soft soles. Nothing was -audible but the tinkling of the tea-things, a word half-whispered. In -one corner, obliquely across from the door, and two tables removed from -his own, Aschenbach observed the Polish girls with their governess. -Erect and red-eyed, their ash-blond hair freshly smoothed down, dressed -in stiff blue linen with little white cuffs and turned-down -collars--they were sitting there, handing around a glass of marmalade. -They had almost finished their breakfast. The boy was missing. - -Aschenbach smiled. "Well, little Phaeacian!" he thought. "You seem to be -enjoying the pleasant privilege of having your sleep out." And suddenly -exhilarated, he recited to himself the line: "A frequent change of -dress; warm baths, and rest." - -He breakfasted without haste. From the porter, who entered the hall -holding his braided cap in his hand, he received some forwarded mail; -and while he smoked a cigarette he opened a few letters. In this way it -happened that he was present at the entrance of the late sleeper who was -being waited for over yonder. - -He came through the glass door and crossed the room in silence to his -sisters' table. His approach--the way he held the upper part of his -body, and bent his knees, the movement of his white-shod feet--had an -extraordinary charm; he walked very lightly, at once timid and proud, -and this became still more lovely through the childish embarrassment -with which, twice as he proceeded, he turned his face towards the centre -of the room, raising and lowering his eyes. Smiling, with something -half-muttered in his soft vague tongue, he took his place; and now, as -he turned his full profile to the observer, Aschenbach was again -astonished, terrified even, by the really godlike beauty of this human -child. To-day the boy was wearing a light blouse of blue and white -striped cotton goods, with a red silk tie in front, and closed at the -neck by a plain white high collar. This collar lacked the -distinctiveness of the blouse, but above it the flowering head was -poised with an incomparable seductiveness--the head of an Eros, in -blended yellows of Parian marble, with fine serious brows, the temples -and ears covered softly by the abrupt encroachment of his curls. - -"Good, good!" Aschenbach thought, with that deliberate expert appraisal -which artists sometimes employ as a subterfuge when they have been -carried away with delight before a masterwork. And he thought further: -"Really, if the sea and the beach weren't waiting for me, I should stay -here as long as you stayed!" But he went then, passed through the lobby -under the inspection of the servants, down the wide terrace, and -straight across the boardwalk to the section of the beach reserved for -the hotel guests. The barefoot old man in dungarees and straw hat who -was functioning here as bathing master assigned him to the bath house he -had rented; a table and a seat were placed on the sandy board platform, -and he made himself comfortable in the lounge chair which he had drawn -closer to the sea, out into the waxen yellow sand. - -More than ever before he was entertained and amused by the sights on the -beach, this spectacle of carefree, civilized people getting sensuous -enjoyment at the very edge of the elements. The grey flat sea was -already alive with wading children, swimmers, a motley of figures lying -on the sandbanks with arms bent behind their heads. Others were rowing -about in little red and blue striped boats without keels; they were -continually upsetting, amid laughter. Before the long stretches of -bathing houses, where people were sitting on the platforms as though on -small verandahs, there was a play of movement against the line of rest -and inertness behind--visits and chatter, fastidious morning elegance -alongside the nakedness which, boldly at ease, was enjoying the freedom -which the place afforded. Further in front, on the damp firm sand, -people were parading about in white bathing cloaks, in ample, -brilliantly coloured wrappers. An elaborate sand pile to the right, -erected by children, had flags in the colours of all nations planted -around it. Venders of shells, cakes, and fruit spread out their wares, -kneeling. To the left, before one of the bathing houses which stood at -right angles to the others and to the sea, a Russian family was -encamped: men with beards and large teeth, slow delicate women, a Baltic -girl sitting by an easel and painting the sea amidst exclamations of -despair, two ugly good-natured children, an old maid-servant who wore a -kerchief on her head and had the alert scraping manners of a slave. -Delighted and appreciative, they were living there, patiently calling -the names of the two rowdy disobedient children, using their scanty -Italian to joke with the humorous old man from whom they were buying -candy, kissing one another on the cheek, and not in the least concerned -with any one who might be observing their community. - -"Yes, I shall stay," Aschenbach thought. "Where would things be better?" -And his hands folded in his lap, he let his eyes lose themselves in the -expanses of the sea, his gaze gliding, swimming, and failing in the -monotone mist of the wilderness of space. He loved the ocean for -deep-seated reasons: because of that yearning for rest, when the -hard-pressed artist hungers to shut out the exacting multiplicities of -experience and hide himself on the breast of the simple, the vast; and -because of a forbidden hankering--seductive, by virtue of its being -directly opposed to his obligations--after the incommunicable, the -incommensurate, the eternal, the non-existent. To be at rest in the face -of perfection is the hunger of everyone who is aiming at excellence; and -what is the non-existent but a form of perfection? But now, just as his -dreams were so far out in vacancy, suddenly the horizontal fringe of the -sea was broken by a human figure; and as he brought his eyes back from -the unbounded, and focussed them, it was the lovely boy who was there, -coming from the left and passing him on the sand. He was barefooted, -ready for wading, his slender legs exposed above the knees; he walked -slowly, but as lightly and proudly as though it were the customary thing -for him to move about without shoes; and he was looking around him -towards the line of bathing houses opposite. But as soon as he had -noticed the Russian family, occupied with their own harmony and -contentment, a cloud of scorn and detestation passed over his face. His -brow darkened, his mouth was compressed, he gave his lips an embittered -twist to one side so that the cheek was distorted, and the forehead -became so heavily furrowed that the eyes seemed sunken beneath its -pressure: malicious and glowering, they spoke the language of hate. He -looked down, looked back once more threateningly, then with his shoulder -made an abrupt gesture of disdain and dismissal, and left the enemy -behind him. - -A kind of pudency or confusion, something like respect and shyness, -caused Aschenbach to turn away as though he had seen nothing. For the -earnest-minded who have been casual observers of some passion, struggle -against making use, even to themselves, of what they have seen. But he -was both cheered and unstrung--which is to say, he was happy. This -childish fanaticism, directed against the most good-natured possible -aspect of life--it brought the divinely arbitrary into human -relationships; it made a delightful natural picture which had appealed -only to the eye now seem worthy of a deeper sympathy; and it gave the -figure of this half-grown boy, who had already been important enough by -his sheer beauty, something to offset him still further, and to make one -take him more seriously than his years justified. Still looking away, -Aschenbach could hear the boy's voice, the shrill, somewhat weak voice -with which, in the distance now, he was trying to call hello to his -playfellows busied around the sand pile. They answered him, shouting -back his name, or some affectionate nickname; and Aschenbach listened -with a certain curiosity, without being able to catch anything more -definite than two melodic syllables like "Adgio," or still more -frequently "Adgiu," with a ringing u-sound prolonged at the end. He was -pleased with the resonance of this; he found it adequate to the subject. -He repeated it silently and, satisfied, turned to his letters and -manuscripts. - -His small portable writing-desk on his knees he began writing with his -fountain pen an answer to this or that bit of correspondence. But after -the first fifteen minutes he found it a pity to abandon the -situation--the most enjoyable he could think of--in this manner and -waste it in activities which did not interest him. He tossed the writing -materials to one side, and he faced the ocean again; soon afterwards, -diverted by the childish voices around the sand heap, he revolved his -head comfortably along the back of the chair towards the right, to -discover where that excellent little Adgio might be and what he was -doing. - -He was found at a glance; the red tie on his breast was not to be -overlooked. Busied with the others in laying an old plank across the -damp moat of the sand castle, he was nodding, and shouting instructions -for this work. There were about ten companions with him, boys and girls -of his age, and a few younger ones who were chattering with one another -in Polish, French, and in several Balkan tongues. But it was his name -which rang out most often. He was openly in demand, sought after, -admired. One boy especially, like him a Pole, a stocky fellow who was -called something like "Jaschu," with sleek black hair and a belted linen -coat, seemed to be his closest vassal and friend. When the work on the -sand structure was finished for the time being, they walked aim in arm -along the beach, and the boy who was called "Jaschu" kissed the beauty. - -Aschenbach was half minded to raise a warning finger. "I advise you, -Cristobulus," he thought, smiling, "to travel for a year! For you need -that much time at least to get over it." And then he breakfasted on -large ripe strawberries which he got from a peddler. It had become very -warm, although the sun could no longer penetrate the blanket of mist in -the sky. Laziness clogged his brain, even while his senses delighted in -the numbing, drugging distractions of the ocean's stillness. To guess, -to puzzle out just what name it was that sounded something like "Adgio," -seemed to the sober man an appropriate ambition, a thoroughly -comprehensive pursuit. And with the aid of a few scrappy recollections -of Polish he decided that they must mean Tadzio, the shortened form of -Tadeusz, and sounding like Tadziu when it is called. - -Tadzio was bathing. Aschenbach, who had lost sight of him, spied his -head and the arm with which he was propelling himself, far out in the -water; for the sea must have been smooth for a long distance out. But -already people seemed worried about him; women's voices were calling -after him from the bathing houses, uttering this name again and again. -It almost dominated the beach like a battle-cry, and with its soft -consonants, its long drawn u-note at the end, it had something at once -sweet and wild about it: "Tadziu! Tadziu!" He turned back; beating the -resistent water into a foam with his legs he hurried, his head bent down -over the waves. And to see how this living figure, graceful and -clean-cut in its advance, with dripping curls, and lovely as some frail -god, came up out of the depths of sky and sea, rose and separated from -the elements--this spectacle aroused a sense of myth, it was like some -poet's recovery of time at its beginning, of the origin of forms and the -birth of gods. Aschenbach listened with closed eyes to this song ringing -within him, and he thought again that it was pleasant here, and that he -would like to remain. - -Later Tadzio was resting from his bath; he lay in the sand, wrapped in -his white robe, which was drawn under the right shoulder, his head -supported on his bare arm. And even when Aschenbach was not observing -him, but was reading a few pages in his book, he hardly ever forgot that -this boy was lying there and that it would cost him only a slight turn -of his head to the right to behold the mystery. It seemed that he was -sitting here just to keep watch over his repose--busied with his own -concerns, and yet constantly aware of this noble picture at his right, -not far in the distance. And he was stirred by a paternal affection, the -profound leaning which those who have devoted their thoughts to the -creation of beauty feel towards those who possess beauty itself. - -A little past noon he left the beach, returned to the hotel, and was -taken up to his room. He stayed there for some time in front of the -mirror, looking at his grey hair, his tired sharp features. At this -moment he thought of his reputation, and of the fact that he was often -recognized on the streets and observed with respect, thanks to the sure -aim and the appealing finish of his words. He called up all the exterior -successes of his talent which he could think of, remembering also his -elevation to the knighthood. Then he went down to the dining-hall for -lunch, and ate at his little table. As he was riding up in the lift, -after the meal was ended, a group of young people just coming from -breakfast pressed into the swaying cage after him, and Tadzio entered -too. He stood quite near to Aschenbach, for the first time so near that -Aschenbach could see him, not with the aloofness of a picture, but in -minute detail, in all his human particularities. The boy was addressed -by someone or other, and as he was answering with an indescribably -agreeable smile he stepped out again, on the second floor, walking -backwards, and with his eyes lowered. "Beauty makes modest," Aschenbach -thought, and he tried insistently to explain why this was so. But he had -noticed that Tadzio's teeth were not all they should be; they were -somewhat jagged and pale. The enamel did not look healthy; it had a -peculiar brittleness and transparency, as is often the case with -anaemics. "He is very frail, he is sickly," Aschenbach thought. "In all -probability he will not grow old." And he refused to reckon with the -feeling of gratification or reassurance which accompanied this notion. - -He spent two hours in his room, and in the afternoon he rode in the -_vaporetto_ across the foul-smelling lagoon to Venice. He got off at San -Marco, took tea on the Piazza, and then, in accord with his schedule for -the day, he went for a walk through the streets. Yet it was this walk -which produced a complete reversal in his attitudes and his plans. - -An offensive sultriness lay over the streets. The air was so heavy that -the smells pouring out of homes, stores, and eating houses became mixed -with oil, vapours, clouds of perfume, and still other odours--and these -would not blow away, but hung in layers. Cigarette smoke remained -suspended, disappearing very slowly. The crush of people along the -narrow streets irritated rather than entertained the walker. The farther -he went, the more he was depressed by the repulsive condition resulting -from the combination of sea air and sirocco, which was at the same time -both stimulating and enervating. He broke into an uncomfortable sweat. -His eyes failed him, his chest became tight, he had a fever, the blood -was pounding in his head. He fled from the crowded business streets -across a bridge into the walks of the poor. On a quiet square, one of -those forgotten and enchanting places which lie in the interior of -Venice, he rested at the brink of a well, dried his forehead, and -realized that he would have to leave here. - -For the second and last time it had been demonstrated that this city in -this kind of weather was decidedly unhealthy for him. It seemed foolish -to attempt a stubborn resistance, while the prospects for a change of -wind were completely uncertain. A quick decision was called for. It was -not possible to go home this soon. Neither summer nor winter quarters -were prepared to receive him. But this was not the only place where -there were sea and beach; and elsewhere these could be found without the -lagoon and its malarial mists. He remembered a little watering place not -far from Trieste which had been praised to him. Why not there? And -without delay, so that this new change of location would still have time -to do him some good. He pronounced this as good as settled, and stood -up. At the next gondola station he took a boat back to San Marco, and -was led through the dreary labyrinth of canals, under fancy marble -balconies flanked with lions, around the corners of smooth walls, past -the sorrowing façades of palaces which mirrored large dilapidated -business-signs in the pulsing water. He had trouble arriving there, for -the gondolier, who was in league with lace-makers and glass-blowers, was -always trying to land him for inspections and purchases; and just as the -bizarre trip through Venice would begin to cast its spell, the greedy -business sense of the sunken Queen did all it could to destroy the -illusion. - -When he had returned to the hotel he announced at the office before -dinner that unforeseen developments necessitated his departure the -following morning. He was assured of their regrets. He settled his -accounts. He dined, and spent the warm evening reading the newspapers in -a rocking-chair on the rear terrace. Before going to bed he got his -luggage all ready for departure. - -He did not sleep so well as he might, since the impending break-up made -him restless. When he opened the window in the morning the sky was as -overcast as ever, but the air seemed fresher, and he was already -beginning to repent. Hadn't his decision been somewhat hasty and -uncalled for, the result of a passing diffidence and indisposition? If -he had delayed a little, if, instead of surrendering so easily, he had -made some attempt to adjust himself to the air of Venice or to wait for -an improvement in the weather, he would not be so rushed and -inconvenienced, but could anticipate another forenoon on the beach like -yesterday's. Too late. Now he would have to go on wanting what he had -wanted yesterday. He dressed, and at about eight o'clock rode down to -the ground floor for breakfast. - -As he entered, the buffet-room was still empty of guests. A few came in -while he sat waiting for his order. With his tea cup to his lips, he saw -the Polish girls and their governess appear: rigid, with morning -freshness, their eyes still red, they walked across to their table in -the corner by the window. Immediately afterwards, the porter approached -him, cap in hand, and warned him that it was time to go. The automobile -is ready to take him and the other passengers to the Hotel Excelsior, -and from here the motorboat will bring the ladies and gentlemen -to the station through the company's private canal. Time is -pressing.--Aschenbach found that it was doing nothing of the sort. It -was still over an hour before his train left. He was irritated by this -hotel custom of hustling departing guests out of the house, and -indicated to the porter that he wished to finish his breakfast in peace. -The man retired hesitatingly, to appear again five minutes later. It is -impossible for the car to wait any longer. Then he would take a cab, and -carry his trunk with him, Aschenbach replied in anger. He would use the -public steamboat at the proper time, and he requested that it be left to -him personally to worry about his departure. The employee bowed himself -away. Pleased with the way he had warded off these importunate warnings, -Aschenbach finished his meal at leisure; in fact, he even let the waiter -bring him a newspaper. The time had become quite short when he finally -arose. It was fitting that at the same moment Tadzio should come through -the glass door. - -On the way to his table he walked in the opposite direction to -Aschenbach, lowering his eyes modestly before the man with the grey hair -and high forehead, only to raise them again, in his delicious manner, -soft and full upon him--and he had passed. "Good-bye, Tadzio!" -Aschenbach thought. "I did not see much of you." He did what was unusual -with him, really formed the words on his lips and spoke them to himself; -then he added, "God bless you!"--After this he left, distributed tips, -was ushered out by the small gentle manager in the French frock coat, -and made off from the hotel on foot, as he had come, going along the -white blossoming avenue which crossed the island to the steamer bridge, -accompanied by the house servant carrying his hand luggage. He arrived, -took his place--and then followed a painful journey through all the -depths of regret. - -It was the familiar trip across the lagoon, past San Marco, up the Grand -Canal. Aschenbach sat on the circular bench at the bow, his arm -supported against the railing, shading his eyes with his hand. The -public gardens were left behind, the Piazzetta opened up once more in -princely splendour and was gone, then came the great flock of palaces, -and as the channel made a turn the magnificently slung marble arch of -the Rialto came into view. The traveller was watching; his emotions were -in conflict. The atmosphere of the city, this slightly foul smell of sea -and swamp which he had been so anxious to avoid--he breathed it now in -deep, exquisitely painful draughts. Was it possible that he had not -known, had not considered, just how much he was attached to all this? -What had been a partial misgiving this morning, a faint doubt as to the -advisability of his move, now became a distress, a positive misery, a -spiritual hunger, and so bitter that it frequently brought tears to his -eyes, while he told himself that he could not possibly have foreseen it. -Hardest of all to bear, at times completely insufferable, was the -thought that he would never see Venice again, that this was a -leave-taking for ever. Since it had been shown for the second time that -the city affected his health, since he was compelled for the second time -to get away in all haste, from now on he would have to consider it a -place impossible and forbidden to him, a place which he was not equal -to, and which it would be foolish for him to visit again. Yes, he felt -that if he left now, he would be shamefaced and defiant enough never to -see again the beloved city which had twice caused him a physical -break-down. And of a sudden this struggle between his desires and his -physical strength seemed to the aging man so grave and important, his -physical defeat seemed so dishonourable, so much a challenge to hold out -at any cost, that he could not understand the ready submissiveness of -the day before, when he had decided to give in without attempting any -serious resistance. - -Meanwhile the steamboat was nearing the station; pain and perplexity -increased, he became distracted. In his affliction, he felt that it was -impossible to leave, and just as impossible to turn back. The conflict -was intense as he entered the station. It was very late; there was not a -moment to lose if he was to catch the train. He wanted to, and he did -not want to. But time was pressing; it drove him on. He hurried to get -his ticket, and looked about in the tumult of the hall for the officer -on duty here from the hotel. The man appeared and announced that the -large trunk had been transferred. Transferred already? Yes, thank -you--to Como. To Como? And in the midst of hasty running back and forth, -angry questions and confused answers, it came to light that the trunk -had already been sent with other foreign baggage from the express office -of the Hotel Excelsior in a completely wrong direction. - -Aschenbach had difficulty in preserving the expression which was -required under these circumstances. He was almost convulsed with an -adventurous delight, an unbelievable hilarity. The employee rushed off -to see if it were still possible to stop the trunk, and as was to be -expected he returned with nothing accomplished. Aschenbach declared that -he did not want to travel without his trunk, but had decided to go back -and wait at the beach hotel for its return. Was the company's motorboat -still at the station? The man assured him that it was lying at the door. -With Italian volubility he persuaded the clerk at the ticket window to -redeem the cancelled ticket, he swore that they would act speedily, that -no time or money would be spared in recovering the trunk promptly, -and--so the strange thing happened that, twenty minutes after his -arrival at the station, the traveller found himself again on the Grand -Canal, returning to the Lido. - -Here was an adventure, wonderful, abashing, and comically dreamlike -beyond belief: places which he had just bid farewell to for ever in the -most abject misery--yet he had been turned and driven back by fate, and -was seeing them again in the same hour! The spray from the bow, washing -between gondolas and steamers with an absurd agility, shot the speedy -little craft ahead to its goal, while the one passenger was hiding the -nervousness and ebullience of a truant boy under the mask of resigned -anger. From time to time he shook with laughter at this mishap which, as -he told himself, could not have turned out better for a child of -destiny. There were explanations to be given, expressions of -astonishment to be faced--and then, he told himself, everything would be -all right; then a misfortune would be avoided, a grave error rectified. -And all that he had thought he was leaving behind him would be open to -him again, there at his disposal. . . . And to cap it all, was the -rapidity of the ride deceiving him, or was the wind really coming from -the sea? - -The waves beat against the walls of the narrow canal which runs through -the island to the Hotel Excelsior. An automobile omnibus was awaiting -his return there, and took him above the rippling sea straight to the -beach hotel. The little manager with moustache and long-tailed frock -coat came down the stairs to meet him. - -He ingratiatingly regretted the episode, spoke of it as highly painful -to him and the establishment, but firmly approved of Aschenbach's -decision to wait here for the baggage. Of course his room had been given -up, but there was another one, just as good, which he could occupy -immediately. "_Pas de chance, Monsieur_," the Swiss elevator boy smiled -as they were ascending. And so the fugitive was established again, in a -room almost identical to the other in its location and furnishings. - -Tired out by the confusion of this strange forenoon, he distributed the -contents of his hand-bag about the room and dropped into an arm-chair by -the open window. The sea had become a pale green, the air seemed thinner -and purer; the beach, with its cabins and boats, seemed to have colour, -although the sky was still grey. Aschenbach looked out, his hands folded -in his lap; he was content to be back, but shook his head disapprovingly -at his irresolution, his failure to know his own mind. He sat here for -the better part of an hour, resting and dreaming vaguely. About noon he -saw Tadzio in a striped linen suit with a red tie, coming back from the -sea across the private beach and along the boardwalk to the hotel. -Aschenbach recognized him from this altitude before he had actually set -eyes on him; he was about to think some such words as "Well, Tadzio, -there you are again!" but at the same moment he felt this careless -greeting go dumb before the truth in his heart. He felt the exhilaration -of his blood, a conflict of pain and pleasure, and he realized that it -was Tadzio who had made it so difficult for him to leave. - -He sat very still, entirely unobserved from this height, and looked -within himself. His features were alert, his eyebrows raised, and an -attentive, keenly inquisitive smile distended his mouth. Then he raised -his head; lifted both hands, which had hung relaxed over the arms of the -chair, and in a slow twisting movement turned the palms downward--as -though to suggest an opening and spreading outward of his arms. It was a -spontaneous act of welcome, of calm acceptance. - - - - -IV - - -Day after day now the naked god with the hot cheeks drove his -fire-breathing quadriga across the expanses of the sky, and his yellow -locks fluttered in the assault of the east wind. A white silk sheen -stretched over the slowly simmering Ponto. The sand glowed. Beneath the -quaking silver blue of the ether rust-coloured canvasses were spread in -front of the beach bathing houses, and the afternoons were spent in the -sharply demarcated spots of shade which they cast. But it was also -delightful in the evening, when the vegetation in the park had the smell -of balsam, and the stars were working through their courses above, and -the soft persistent murmur of the sea came up enchantingly through the -night. Such evenings contained the cheering promise that more sunny days -of casual idleness would follow, dotted with countless closely -interspersed possibilities of well-timed accidents. - -The guest who was detained here by such an accommodating mishap did not -consider the return of his property as sufficient grounds for another -departure. He suffered some inconvenience for two days, and had to -appear for meals in the large dining-room in his travelling clothes. -When the strayed luggage was finally deposited in his room again, he -unpacked completely and filled the closet and drawers with his -belongings; he had decided to remain here indefinitely, content now that -he could pass the hours on the beach in a silk suit and appear for -dinner at his little table again in appropriate evening dress. - -The comfortable rhythm of this life had already cast its spell over him; -he was soon enticed by the ease, the mild splendour, of his programme. -Indeed, what a place to be in, when the usual allurement of living in -watering places on southern shores was coupled with the immediate -nearness of the most wonderful of all cities! Aschenbach was not a lover -of pleasure. Whenever that was some call for him to take a holiday, to -indulge himself, to have a good time--and this was especially true at an -earlier age--restlessness and repugnance soon drove him back to his -rigorous toil, the faithful sober efforts of his daily routine. Except -that this place was bewitching him, relaxing his will, making him happy. -In the mornings, under the shelter of his bathing house, letting his -eyes roam dreamily in the blue of the southern sea; or on a warm night -as he leaned back against the cushions of the gondola carrying him under -the broad starry sky home to the Lido from the Piazza di San Marco after -long hours of idleness--and the brilliant lights, the melting notes of -the serenade were being left behind--he often recalled his place in the -mountains, the scene of his battles in the summer, where the clouds blew -low across his garden, and terrifying storms put out the lamps at night, -and the crows which he fed were swinging in the tops of the pine trees. -Then everything seemed just right to him, as though he were lifted into -the Elysian fields, on the borders of the earth, where man enjoys the -easiest life, where there is no snow or winter, nor storms and pouring -rains, but where Oceanus continually sends forth gentle cooling breezes, -and the days pass in a blessed inactivity, without work, without effort, -devoted wholly to the sun and to the feast days of the sun. - -Aschenbach saw the boy Tadzio frequently, almost constantly. Owing to -the limited range of territory and the regularity of their lives, the -beauty was near him at short intervals throughout the day. He saw him, -met him, everywhere: in the lower rooms of the hotel, on the cooling -water trips to the city and back, in the arcades of the square, and at -times when he was especially lucky ran across him on the streets. But -principally, and with the most gratifying regularity, the forenoon on -the beach allowed him to admire and study this rare spectacle at his -leisure. Yes, it was this guaranty of happiness, this daily recurrence -of good fortune, which made his stay here so precious, and gave him such -pleasure in the constant procession of sunny days. - -He was up as early as he used to be when under the driving pressure of -work, and was on the beach before most people, when the sun was still -mild and the sea lay blinding white in the dreaminess of morning. He -spoke amiably to the guard of the private beach, and also spoke -familiarly to the barefoot, white-bearded old man who had prepared his -place for him, stretching the brown canopy and bringing the furniture of -the cabin out on the platform. Then he took his seat. There would now be -three or four hours in which the sun mounted and gained terrific -strength, the sea a deeper and deeper blue, and he might look at Tadzio. - -He saw him approaching from the left, along the edge of the sea; he saw -him as he stepped out backwards from among the cabins; or he would -suddenly find, with a shock of pleasure, that he had missed his coming, -that he was already here in the blue and white bathing suit which was -his only garment now while on the beach, that he had already commenced -his usual activities in the sun and the sand--a pleasantly trifling, -idle, and unstable manner of living, a mixture of rest and play. Tadzio -would saunter about, wade, dig, catch things, lie down, go for a swim, -all the while being kept under surveillance by the women on the platform -who made his name ring out in their falsetto voices: "Tadziu! Tadziu!" -Then he would come running to them with a look of eagerness, to tell -them what he had seen, what he had experienced, or to show them what he -had found or caught: mussels, sea-horses, jelly-fish, and crabs that ran -sideways. Aschenbach did not understand a word he said, and though it -might have been the most ordinary thing in the world, it was a vague -harmony in his ear. So the foreignness of the boy's speech turned it -into music, a wanton sun poured its prodigal splendour down over him, -and his figure was always set off against the background of an intense -sea-blue. - -This piquant body was so freely exhibited that his eyes soon knew every -line and posture. He was continually rediscovering with new pleasure all -this familiar beauty, and his astonishment at its delicate appeal to his -senses was unending. The boy was called to greet a guest who was paying -his respects to the ladies at the bathing house. He came running, -running wet perhaps out of the water, tossed back his curls, and as he -held out his hand, resting on one leg and raising his other foot on the -toes, the set of his body was delightful; it had a charming expectancy -about it, a well-meaning shyness, a winsomeness which showed his -aristocratic training. . . . He lay stretched full length, his bath -towel slung across his shoulders, his delicately chiselled arm supported -in the sand, his chin in his palm; the boy called Jaschu was squatting -near him and making up to him--and nothing could be more enchanting than -the smile of his eyes and lips when the leader glanced up at his -inferior, his servant. . . . He stood on the edge of the sea, alone, -apart from his people, quite near to Aschenbach--erect, his hands locked -across the back of his neck, he swayed slowly on the balls of his feet, -looked dreamily into the blueness of sea and sky, while tiny waves -rolled up and bathed his feet. His honey-coloured hair clung in rings -about his neck and temples. The sun made the down on his back glitter; -the fine etching of the ribs, the symmetry of the chest, were emphasized -by the tightness of the suit across the buttocks. His arm-pits were -still as smooth as those of a statue; the hollows of his knees -glistened, and their bluish veins made his body seem built of some -clearer stuff. What rigour, what precision of thought, were expressed in -this erect, youthfully perfect body! Yet the pure and strenuous will -which, darkly at work, could bring such godlike sculpture to the -light--was not he, the artist, familiar with this? Did it not operate in -him too when he, under the press of frugal passions, would free from the -marble mass of speech some slender form which he had seen in the mind -and which he put before his fellows as a statue and a mirror of -intellectual beauty? - -Statue and mirror! His eyes took in the noble form there bordered with -blue; and with a rush of enthusiasm he felt that in this spectacle he -was catching the beautiful itself, form as the thought of God, the one -pure perfection which lives in the mind, and which, in this symbol and -likeness, had been placed here quietly and simply as an object of -devotion. That was drunkenness; and eagerly, without thinking, the aging -artist welcomed it. His mind was in travail; all that he had learned, -dropped back into flux; his understanding threw up age-old thoughts -which he had inherited with youth though they had never before lived -with their own fire. Is it not written that the sun diverts our -attention from intellectual to sensual things? Reason and understanding, -it is said, become so numbed and enchanted that the soul forgets -everything out of delight with its immediate circumstances, and in -astonishment becomes attached to the most beautiful object shined on by -the sun; indeed, only with the aid of a body is it capable then of -raising itself to higher considerations. To be sure, Amor did as the -instructors of mathematics who show backward children tangible -representations of the pure forms--similarly the god, in order to make -the spiritual visible for us, readily utilized the form and colour of -man's youth, and as a reminder he adorned these with the reflected -splendour of beauty which, when we behold it, makes us flare up in pain -and hope. - -His enthusiasm suggested these things, put him in the mood for them. And -from the noise of the sea and the lustre of the sun he wove himself a -charming picture. Here was the old plane-tree, not far from the walls of -Athens--a holy, shadowy place filled with the smell of _agnus castus_ -blossoms and decorated with ornaments and images sacred to Achelous and -the Nymphs. Clear and pure, the brook at the foot of the spreading tree -fell across the smooth pebbles; the cicadas were fiddling. But on the -grass, which was like a pillow gently sloping to the head, two people -were stretched out, in hiding from the heat of the day: an older man and -a youth, one ugly and one beautiful, wisdom next to loveliness. And amid -gallantries and skilfully engaging banter, Socrates was instructing -Phaedrus in matters of desire and virtue. He spoke to him of the hot -terror which the initiate suffer when their eyes light on an image of -the eternal beauty; spoke of the greed of the impious and the wicked who -cannot think beauty when they see its likeness, and who are incapable of -reverence; spoke of the holy distress which befalls the noble-minded -when a godlike countenance, a perfect body, appears before them; they -tremble and grow distracted, and hardly dare to raise their eyes, and -they honour the man who possesses this beauty, yes, if they were not -afraid of being thought downright madmen they would sacrifice to the -beloved as to the image of a god. For beauty, my Phaedrus, beauty alone -is both lovely and visible at once; it is, mark me, the only form of the -spiritual which we can receive through the senses. Else what would -become of us if the divine, if reason and virtue and truth, should -appear to us through the senses? Should we not perish and be consumed -with love, as Semele once was with Zeus? Thus, beauty is the sensitive -man's access to the spirit--but only a road, a means simply, little -Phaedrus. . . . And then this crafty suitor made the neatest remark of -all; it was this, that the lover is more divine than the beloved, since -the god is in the one, but not in the other--perhaps the most delicate, -the most derisive thought which has ever been framed, and the one from -which spring all the cunning and the profoundest pleasures of desire. - -Writers are happiest with an idea which can become all emotion, and an -emotion all idea. Just such a pulsating idea, such a precise emotion, -belonged to the lonely man at this moment, was at his call. Nature, it -ran, shivers with ecstasy when the spirit bows in homage before beauty. -Suddenly he wanted to write. Eros loves idleness, they say, and he is -suited only to idleness. But at this point in the crisis the affliction -became a stimulus towards productivity. The incentive hardly mattered. A -request, an agitation for an open statement on a certain large burning -issue of culture and taste, was going about the intellectual world, and -had finally caught up with the traveller here. He was familiar with the -subject, it had touched his own experience; and suddenly he felt an -irresistible desire to display it in the light of his own version. And -he even went so far as to prefer working in Tadzio's presence, taking -the scope of the boy as a standard for his writing, making his style -follow the lines of this body which seemed godlike to him, and carrying -his beauty over into the spiritual just as the eagle once carried the -Trojan stag up into the ether. Never had his joy in words been more -sweet. He had never been so aware that Eros is in the word as during -those perilously precious hours when, at his crude table under the -canopy, facing the idol and listening to the music of his voice, he -followed Tadzio's beauty in the forming of his little tract, a page and -a half of choice prose which was soon to excite the admiration of many -through its clarity, its poise, and the vigorous curve of its emotion. -Certainly it is better for people to know only the beautiful product as -finished, and not in its conception, its conditions of origin. For -knowledge of the sources from which the artist derives his inspiration -would often confuse and alienate, and in this way detract from the -effects of his mastery. Strange hours! Strangely enervating efforts! -Rare creative intercourse between the spirit and a body! When Aschenbach -put away his work and started back from the beach be felt exhausted, or -in dispersion even; and it was as though his conscience were complaining -after some transgression. - -The following morning, as he was about to leave the hotel, he looked off -from the steps and noticed that Tadzio, who was alone and was already on -his way towards the sea, was just approaching the private beach. He was -half tempted by the simple notion of seizing this opportunity to strike -up a casual friendly acquaintanceship with the boy who had been the -unconscious source of so much agitation and upheaval; he wanted to -address him, and enjoy the answering look in his eyes. The boy was -sauntering along, he could be overtaken; and Aschenbach quickened his -pace. He reached him on the boardwalk behind the bathing houses; was -about to lay a hand on his head and shoulders; and some word or other, -an amiable phrase in French, was on the tip of his tongue. But he felt -that his heart, due also perhaps to his rapid stride, was beating like a -hammer; and he was so short of breath that his voice would have been -tight and trembling. He hesitated, he tried to get himself under -control. Suddenly he became afraid that he had been walking too long so -close behind the boy. He was afraid of arousing curiosity and causing -him to look back questioningly. He made one more spurt, failed, -surrendered, and passed with bowed head. - -"Too late!" he thought immediately. Too late! Yet was it too late? This -step which he had just been on the verge of taking would very possibly -have put things on a sound, free and easy basis, and would have restored -him to wholesome soberness. But the fact was that Aschenbach did not -want soberness: his intoxication was too precious. Who can explain the -stamp and the nature of the artist! Who can understand this deep -instinctive welding of discipline and licence? For to be unable to want -wholesome soberness, is licence. Aschenbach was no longer given to -self-criticism. His tastes, the mental caliber of his years, his -self-respect, ripeness, and a belated simplicity made him unwilling to -dismember his motives and to debate whether his impulses were the result -of conscientiousness or of dissolution and weakness. He was embarrassed, -as he feared that someone or other, if only the guard on the beach, must -have observed his pursuit and defeat. He was very much afraid of the -ridiculous. Further, he joked with himself about his comically pious -distress. "Downed," he thought, "downed like a rooster, with his wings -hanging miserably in the battle. It really is a god who can, at one -sight of his loveliness, break our courage this way and force down our -pride so thoroughly. . . ." He toyed and skirmished with his emotions, -and was far too haughty to be afraid of them. - -He had already ceased thinking about the time when the vacation period -which he had fixed for himself would expire; the thought of going home -never even suggested itself. He had sent for an ample supply of money. -His only concern was with the possible departure of the Polish family; -by a casual questioning of the hotel barber he had contrived to learn -that these people had come here only a short time before his own -arrival. The sun browned his face and hands, the invigorating salt -breezes made him feel fresher. Once he had been in the habit of -expending on his work every bit of nourishment which food, sleep, or -nature could provide him; and similarly now he was generous and -uneconomical, letting pass off as elation and emotion all the daily -strengthening derived from sun, idleness, and sea air. - -His sleep was fitful; the preciously uniform days were separated by -short nights of happy unrest. He did retire early, for at nine o'clock, -when Tadzio had disappeared from the scene, the day seemed over. But at -the first grey of dawn he was awakened by a gently insistent shock; he -suddenly remembered his adventure, he could no longer remain in bed; he -arose, and clad lightly against the chill of morning, he sat down by the -open window to await the rising of the sun. Revived by his sleep, he -watched this miraculous event with reverence. Sky, earth, and sea still -lay in glassy, ghost-like twilight; a dying star still floated in the -emptiness of space But a breeze started up, a winged message from -habitations beyond reach, telling that Eros was rising from beside her -husband. And that first sweet reddening in the farthest stretches of sky -and sea took place by which the sentiency of creation is announced. The -goddess was approaching, the seductress of youth who stole Cleitus and -Cephalus, and despite the envy of all the Olympians enjoyed the love of -handsome Orion. A strewing of roses began there on the edge of the -world, an unutterably pure glowing and blooming. Childish clouds, -lighted and shined through, floated like busy little Cupids in the rosy, -bluish mist. Purple fell upon the sea, which seemed to be simmering, and -washing the colour towards him. Golden spears shot up into the sky from -behind. The splendour caught fire, silently, and with godlike power an -intense flame of licking tongues broke out--and with rattling hoofs the -brother's sacred chargers mounted the horizon. Lighted by the god's -brilliance, he sat there, keeping watch alone. He closed his eyes, -letting this glory play against the lids. Past emotions, precious early -afflictions and yearnings which had been stifled by his rigorous -programme of living, were now returning in such strange new forms. With -an embarrassed, astonished smile, he recognized them. He was thinking, -dreaming; slowly his lips formed a name. And still smiling, with his -face turned upwards, hands folded in his lap, he fell asleep again in -his chair. - -But the day which began with such fiery solemnity underwent a strange -mythical transformation. Where did the breeze originate which suddenly -began playing so gently and insinuatingly, like some whispered -suggestion, about his ears and temples? Little white choppy clouds stood -in the sky in scattered clumps, like the pasturing herds of the gods. A -stronger wind arose, and the steeds of Poseidon came prancing up, and -along with them the steers which belonged to the blue-locked god, -bellowing and lowering their horns as they ran. Yet among the detritus -of the more distant beach waves were hopping forward like agile goats. -He was caught in the enchantment of a sacredly distorted world full of -Panic life--and he dreamed delicate legends. Often, when the sun was -sinking behind Venice, he would sit on a bench in the park observing -Tadzio who was dressed in a white suit with a coloured sash and was -playing ball on the smooth gravel--and it was Hyacinth that he seemed to -be watching. Hyacinth who was to die because two gods loved him. Yes, he -felt Zephyr's aching jealousy of the rival who forgot the oracle, the -bow, and the lyre, in order to play for ever with this beauty. He saw -the discus, guided by a pitiless envy, strike the lovely head; he too, -growing pale, caught the drooping body--and the flower, sprung from this -sweet blood, bore the inscription of his unending grief. - -Nothing is more unusual and strained than the relationship between -people who know each other only with their eyes, who meet daily, even -hourly, and yet are compelled, by force of custom or their own caprices, -to say no word or make no move of acknowledgement, but to maintain the -appearance of an aloof unconcern. There is a restlessness and a -surcharged curiosity existing between them, the hysteria of an -unsatisfied, unnaturally repressed desire for acquaintanceship and -intercourse; and especially there is a kind of tense respect. For one -person loves and honours another so long as he cannot judge him, and -desire is an evidence of incomplete knowledge. - -Some kind of familiarity had necessarily to form itself between -Aschenbach and young Tadzio; and it gave the elderly man keen pleasure -to see that his sympathies and interests were not left completely -unanswered. For example, when the boy appeared on the beach in the -morning and was going towards his family's bathing house, what had -induced him never to use the boardwalk on the far side of it any more, -but to stroll along the front path, through the sand, past Aschenbach's -habitual place, and often unnecessarily close to him, almost touching -his table, or his chair even? Did the attraction, the fascination of an -overpowering emotion have such an effect upon the frail unthinking -object of it? Aschenbach watched daily for Tadzio to approach; and -sometimes he acted as though he were occupied when this event was taking -place, and he let the boy pass unobserved. But at other times he would -look up, and their glances met. They were both in deep earnest when this -occurred. Nothing in the elderly man's cultivated and dignified -expression betrayed any inner movement; but there was a searching look -in Tadzio's eyes, a thoughtful questioning--he began to falter, looked -down, then looked up again charmingly, and when he had passed something -in his bearing seemed to indicate that it was only his breeding which -kept him from turning around. - -Once, however, one evening, things turned out differently. The Polish -children and their governess had been missing at dinner in the large -hall; Aschenbach had noted this uneasily. After the meal, disturbed by -their absence, Aschenbach was walking in evening dress and straw hat in -front of the hotel at the foot of the terrace, when suddenly he saw the -nunlike sisters appear in the light of the arc-lamp, accompanied by -their governess and with Tadzio a few steps behind. Evidently they were -coming from the steamer pier after having dined for some reason in the -city. It must have been cool on the water; Tadzio was wearing a dark -blue sailor overcoat with gold buttons, and on his head he had a cap to -match. The sun and sea air had not browned him; his skin still had the -same yellow marble colour as at first. It even seemed paler to-day than -usual, whether from the coolness or from the blanching moonlight of the -lamps. His regular eyebrows showed up more sharply, the darkness of his -eyes was deeper. It is hard to say how beautiful he was; and Aschenbach -was distressed, as he had often been before, by the thought that words -can only evaluate sensuous beauty, but not re-give it. - -He had not been prepared for this rich spectacle; it came unhoped for. -He had no time to entrench himself behind an expression of repose and -dignity. Pleasure, surprise, admiration must have shown on his face as -his eyes met those of the boy--and at this moment it happened that -Tadzio smiled, smiled to him, eloquently, familiarly, charmingly, -without concealment; and during the smile his lips slowly opened. It was -the smile of Narcissus bent over the reflecting water, that deep, -fascinated, magnetic smile with which he stretches out his arms to the -image of his own beauty--a smile distorted ever so little, distorted at -the hopelessness of his efforts to kiss the pure lips of the shadow. It -was coquettish, inquisitive, and slightly tortured. It was infatuated, -and infatuating. - -He had received this smile, and he hurried away as though he carried a -fatal gift. He was so broken up that he was compelled to escape the -light of the terrace and the front garden; he hastily hunted out the -darkness of the park in the rear. Strangely indignant and tender -admonitions wrung themselves out of him: "You dare not smile like that! -Listen, no one dare smile like that to another!" He threw himself down -on a bench; in a frenzy he breathed the night smell of the vegetation. -And leaning back, his arms loose, overwhelmed, with frequent -chills running through him, he whispered the fixed formula of -desire--impossible in this case, absurd, abject, ridiculous, and yet -holy, even in this case venerable: "I love you!" - - - - -V - - -During his fourth week at the Lido Gustav von Aschenbach made several -sinister observations touching on the world about him. First, it seemed -to him that as the season progressed the number of guests at the hotel -was diminishing rather than increasing; and German especially seemed to -be dropping away, so that finally he heard nothing but foreign sounds at -table and on the beach. Then one day in conversation with the barber, -whom he visited often, he caught a word which startled him. The man had -mentioned a German family that left soon after their arrival; he added -glibly and flatteringly, "But you are staying, sir. You have no fear of -the plague." Aschenbach looked at him. "The plague?" he repeated. The -gossiper was silent, made out as though busy with other things, ignored -the question. When it was put more insistently, he declared that he knew -nothing, and with embarrassing volubility he tried to change the -subject. - -That was about noon. In the afternoon there was a calm, and Aschenbach -rode to Venice under an intense sun. For he was driven by a mania to -follow the Polish children whom he had seen with their governess taking -the road to the steamer pier. He did not find the idol at San Marco. But -while sitting over his tea at his little round iron table on the shady -side of the square, he suddenly detected a peculiar odour in the air -which, it seemed to him now, he had noticed for days without being -consciously aware of it. The smell was sweetish and drug-like, -suggesting sickness, and wounds, and a suspicious cleanliness. He tested -and examined it thoughtfully, finished his luncheon, and left the square -on the side opposite the church. The smell was stronger where the street -narrowed. On the corners printed posters were hung, giving municipal -warnings against certain diseases of the gastric system liable to occur -at this season, against the eating of oysters and clams, and also -against the water of the canals. The euphemistic nature of the -announcement was palpable. Groups of people had collected in silence on -the bridges and squares; and the foreigner stood among them, scenting -and investigating. - -At a little shop he inquired about the fatal smell, asking the -proprietor, who was leaning against his door surrounded by coral chains -and imitation amethyst jewellery. The man measured him with heavy eyes, -and brightened up hastily. "A matter of precaution, sir!" he answered -with a gesture. "A regulation of the police which must be taken for what -it is worth. This weather is oppressive, the sirocco is not good for the -health. In short, you understand--an exaggerated prudence perhaps." -Aschenbach thanked him and went on. Also on the steamer back to the Lido -he caught the smell of the disinfectant. - -Returning to the hotel, he went immediately to the periodical stand in -the lobby and ran through the papers. He found nothing in the foreign -language press. The domestic press spoke of rumours, produced hazy -statistics, repeated official denials and questioned their truthfulness. -This explained the departure of the German and Austrian guests. -Obviously, the subjects of the other nations knew nothing, suspected -nothing, were not yet uneasy. "To keep it quiet!" Aschenbach thought -angrily, as he threw the papers back on the table. "To keep that quiet!" -But at the same moment he was filled with satisfaction over the -adventure that was to befall the world about him. For passion, like -crime, is not suited to the secure daily rounds of order and well-being; -and every slackening in the bourgeois structure, every disorder and -affliction of the world, must be held welcome, since they bring with -them a vague promise of advantage. So Aschenbach felt a dark contentment -with what was taking place, under cover of the authorities, in the dirty -alleys of Venice. This wicked secret of the city was welded with his own -secret, and he too was involved in keeping it hidden. For in his -infatuation he cared about nothing but the possibility of Tadzio's -leaving, and he realized with something like terror that he would not -know how to go on living if this occurred. - -Lately he had not been relying simply on good luck and the daily routine -for his chances to be near the boy and look at him. He pursued him, -stalked him. On Sundays, for instance, the Poles never appeared on the -beach. He guessed that they must be attending mass at San Marco. He -hurried there; and stepping from the heat of the square into the golden -twilight of the church, he found the boy he was hunting, bowed over a -_prie-dieu_, praying. Then he stood in the background, on the cracked -mosaic floor, with people on all sides kneeling, murmuring, and making -the sign of the cross. And the compact grandeur of this oriental temple -weighed heavily on his senses. In front, the richly ornamented priest -was conducting the office, moving about and singing; incense poured -forth, clouding the weak little flame of the candle on the altar--and -with the sweet, stuffy sacrificial odour another seemed to commingle -faintly: the smell of the infested city. But through the smoke and the -sparkle Aschenbach saw how the boy there in front turned his head, -hunted him out, and looked at him. - -When the crowd was streaming out through the opened portals into the -brilliant square with its swarms of pigeons, the lover hid in the -vestibule; he kept trader cover, he lay in wait. He saw the Poles quit -the church, saw how the children took ceremonious leave of their mother, -and how she turned towards the Piazzetta on her way home. He made sure -that the boy, the nunlike sisters, and the governess took the road to -the right through the gateway of the dock tower and into the Merceria. -And after giving them a slight start, he followed, followed them -furtively on their walk through Venice. He had to stand still when they -stopped, had to take flight in shops and courts to let them pass when -they turned back. He lost them; hot and exhausted, he hunted them over -bridges and down dirty blind-alleys--and he underwent minutes of deadly -agony when suddenly he saw them coming towards him in a narrow passage -where escape was impossible. Yet it could not be said that he suffered. -He was drunk, and his steps followed the promptings of the demon who -delights in treading human reason and dignity under foot. - -In one place Tadzio and his companions took a gondola; and shortly after -they had pushed off from the shore, Aschenbach, who had hidden behind -some structure, a well, while they were climbing in, now did the same. -He spoke in a hurried undertone as he directed the rower, with the -promise of a generous tip, to follow unnoticed and at a distance that -gondola which was just rounding the corner. And he thrilled when the -man, with the roguish willingness of an accomplice, assured him in the -same tone that his wishes would be carried out, carried out faithfully. - -Leaning back against the soft black cushions, he rocked and glided -towards the other black-beaked craft where his passion was drawing him. -At times it escaped; then he felt worried and uneasy. But his pilot, as -though skilled in such commissions, was always able through sly -manoeuvres, speedy diagonals and shortcuts, to bring the quest into view -again. The air was quiet and smelly, the sun burned down strong through -the slate-coloured mist. Water slapped against the wood and stone. The -call of the gondolier, half warning, half greeting, was answered with a -strange obedience far away in the silence of the labyrinth. White and -purple umbels with the scent of almonds hung down from little elevated -gardens over crumbling walls. Arabian window-casings were outlined -through the murkiness. The marble steps of a church descended into the -water; a beggar squatted there, protesting his misery, holding out his -hat, and showing the whites of his eyes as though he were blind. An -antiquarian in front of his den fawned on the passer-by and invited him -to stop in the hopes of swindling him. That was Venice, the flatteringly -and suspiciously beautiful--this city, half legend, half snare for -strangers; in its foul air art once flourished gluttonously, and had -suggested to its musicians seductive notes which cradle and lull. The -adventurer felt as though his eyes were taking in this same luxury, as -though his ears were being won by just such melodies. He recalled too -that the city was diseased and was concealing this through greed--and he -peered more eagerly after the retreating gondola. - -Thus, in his infatuation, he wanted simply to pursue uninterrupted the -object that aroused him, to dream of it when it was not there, and, -after the fashion of lovers, to speak softly to its mere outline. -Loneliness, strangeness, and the joy of a deep belated intoxication -encouraged him and prompted him to accept even the remotest things -without reserve or shame--with the result that as he returned late in -the evening from Venice, he stopped on the second floor of the hotel -before the door of the boy's room, laid his head in utter drunkenness -against the hinge of the door, and for a long time could not drag -himself away despite the danger of being caught and embarrassed in such -a mad situation. - -Yet there were still moments of relief when he came partly to his -senses. "Where to!" he would think, alarmed. "Where to!" Like every man -whose natural abilities stimulate an aristocratic interest in his -ancestry, he was accustomed to think of his forbears in connexion with -the accomplishments and successes of his life, to assure himself of -their approval, their satisfaction, their undeniable respect. He thought -of them now, entangled as he was in such an illicit experience, caught -in such exotic transgressions. He thought of their characteristic -rigidity of principle, their scrupulous masculinity--and he smiled -dejectedly. What would they say? But then, what would they have said to -his whole life, which was almost degenerate in its departure from -theirs, this life under the bane of art--a life against which he himself -had once issued such youthful mockeries out of loyalty to his fathers, -but which at bottom had been so much like theirs! He too had served, he -too had been a soldier and a warrior like many of them--for art was a -war, a destructive battle, and one was not equal to it for long these -days. A life of self-conquest and of in-spite-offs, a rigid, sober, and -unyielding life which he had formed into the symbol of a delicate and -timely heroism. He might well call it masculine, or brave; and it almost -seemed as though the Eros mastering him were somehow peculiarly adapted -and inclined to such a life. Had not this Eros stood in high repute -among the bravest of peoples; was it not true that precisely through -bravery he had flourished in their cities? Numerous war heroes of -antiquity had willingly borne his yoke, for nothing was deemed a -disgrace which the god imposed; and acts which would Have been rebuked -as the sign of cowardice if they had been done for other -purposes--prostrations, oaths, entreaties, abjectness--such things did -not bring shame upon the lover, but rather he reaped praise for them. - -In this way his infatuation determined the course of his thoughts, in -this way he tried to uphold himself, to preserve his respect. But at the -same time, selfish and calculating, he turned his attention to the -unclean transactions here in Venice, this adventure of the outer world -which conspired darkly with his own and which fed his passion with vague -lawless hopes. - -Bent on getting reliable news of the condition and progress of the -pestilence, he ransacked the local papers in the city cafés, as they -had been missing from the reading table of the hotel lobby for several -days now. Statements alternated with disavowals. The number of the sick -and dead was supposed to reach twenty, forty, or even a hundred and -more--and immediately afterwards every instance of the plague would be -either flatly denied or attributed to completely isolated cases which -had crept in from the outside. There were scattered admonitions, -protests against the dangerous conduct of foreign authorities. Certainty -was impossible. Nevertheless the lone man felt especially entitled to -participate in the secret; and although he was excluded, he derived a -grotesque satisfaction from putting embarrassing questions to those who -did know, and as they were pledged to silence, forcing them into -deliberate lies. One day at breakfast in the large dining-hall he -entered into a conversation with the manager, that softly-treading -little man in the French frock coat who was moving amiably and -solicitously about among the diners and had stopped at Aschenbach's -table for a few passing words. Just why, the guest asked negligently and -casually, had disinfectants become so prevalent in Venice recently? "It -has to do," was the evasive answer, "with a police regulation, and is -intended to prevent any inconveniences or disturbances to the public -health which might result from the exceptionally warm and threatening -weather." . . . "The police are to be congratulated," Aschenbach -answered; and after the exchange of a few remarks on the weather, the -manager left. - -Yet that same day, in the evening, after dinner, it happened that a -little band of strolling singers from the city gave a performance in the -front garden of the hotel. Two men and two women, they stood by the iron -post of an arc-lamp and turned their whitened faces up towards the large -terrace where the guests were enjoying this folk-recital over their -coffee and cooling drinks. The hotel personnel, bell boys, waiters, and -clerks from the office, could be seen listening by the doors of the -vestibule. The Russian family, eager and precise in their amusements, -had had wicker chairs placed in the garden in order to be nearer the -performers; and they were sitting here in an appreciative semi-circle. -Behind the ladies and gentlemen, in her turban-like kerchief, stood the -old slave. - -Mandolin, guitar, harmonica, and a squeaky violin were responding to the -touch of the virtuoso beggars. Instrumental numbers alternated with -songs, as when the younger of the women, with a sharp trembling voice, -joined with the sweetly falsetto tenor in a languishing love duet. But -the real talent and leader of the group was undoubtedly the other of the -two men, the one with the guitar. He was a kind of _buffo_ baritone, -with not much of a voice, although he did have a gift for pantomime, and -a remarkable comic energy. Often, with his large instrument under his -arm, he would leave the rest of the group and, still acting, would -intrude on the platform, where his antics were rewarded with encouraging -laughter. Especially the Russians in their seats down front seemed to be -enchanted with so much southern mobility, and their applause incited him -to let himself out more and more boldly and assertively. - -Aschenbach sat on the balustrade, cooling his lips now and then with a -mixture of pomegranate juice and soda which glowed ruby red in his glass -in front of him. His nerves took in the miserable notes, the vulgar -crooning melodies; for passion lames the sense of discrimination, and -surrenders in all seriousness to appeals which, in sober moments, are -either humorously allowed for or rejected with annoyance. At the clown's -antics his features bad twisted into a set painful smile. He sat there -relaxed, although inwardly he was intensely awake; for six paces from -him Tadzio was leaning against the stone hand-rail. - -In the white belted coat which he often wore at meal times, he was -standing in a position of spontaneous and inborn gracefulness, his left -forearm on the railing, feet crossed, the right hand on a supporting -hip; and he looked down at the street-singers with an expression which -was hardly a smile, but only an aloof curiosity, a polite amiability. -Often he would stand erect and, expanding his chest, would draw the -white smock down under his leather belt with a beautiful gesture. And -then too, the aging man observed with a tumult of fright and triumph how -he would often turn his head over the left shoulder in the direction of -his admirer, carefully and hesitatingly, or even with abruptness as -though to attack by surprise. He did not meet Aschenbach's eyes, for a -mean precaution compelled the transgressor to keep from staring at him: -in the background of the terrace the women who guarded Tadzio were -sitting, and things had reached a point where the lover had to fear that -he might be noticed and suspected. Yes, he had often observed with a -kind of numbness how, when Tadzio was near him, on the beach, in the -hotel lobby, in the Piazza San Marco, they called him back, they were -set on keeping him at a distance--and this wounded him frightfully, -causing his pride unknown tortures which his conscience would not permit -him to evade. - -Meanwhile the guitar-player had begun a solo to his own accompaniment, -a street-ballad popular throughout Italy. It had several strophes, and -the entire company joined each time in the refrain, all singing and -playing, while he managed to give a plastic and dramatic twist to the -performance. Of slight build, with thin and impoverished features, he -stood on the gravel, apart from his companions, in an attitude of -insolent bravado, his shabby felt hat on the back of his head so that a -bunch of his red hair jutted out from under the brim. And to the -thrumming of the strings he flung his jokes up at the terrace in a -penetrating recitative; while the veins were swelling on his forehead -from the exertion of his performance. He did not seem of Venetian stock, -but rather of the race of Neapolitan comedians, half pimp, half -entertainer, brutal and audacious, dangerous and amusing. His song was -stupid enough so far as the words went; but in his mouth, by his -gestures, the movements of his body, his way of blinking significantly -and letting the tongue play across his lips, it acquired something -ambiguous, something vaguely repulsive. In addition to the customary -civilian dress, he was wearing a sport shirt; and his skinny neck -protruded above the soft collar, baring a noticeably large and active -Adam's-apple. He was pale and snub-nosed. It was hard to fix an age to -his beardless features, which seemed furrowed with grimaces and -depravity; and the two wrinkles standing arrogantly, harshly, almost -savagely between his reddish eyebrows were strangely suited to the smirk -on his mobile lips. Yet what really prompted the lonely man to pay him -keen attention was the observation that the questionable figure seemed -also to provide its own questionable atmosphere. For each time they came -to the refrain the singer, amid buffoonery and familiar handshakes, -began a grotesque circular march which brought him immediately beneath -Aschenbach's place; and each time this happened there blew up to the -terrace from his clothes and body a strong carbolic smell. - -After the song was ended, he began collecting money. He started with the -Russians, who were evidently willing to spend, and then came up the -stairs. Up here he showed himself just as humble as he had been bold -during the performance. Cringing and bowing, he stole about among the -tables, and a smile of obsequious cunning exposed his strong teeth, -while the two wrinkles still stood ominously between his red eyebrows. -This singular character collecting money to live on--they eyed him with -a curiosity and a kind of repugnance, they tossed coins into his felt -hat with the tips of their fingers, and were careful not to touch him. -The elimination of the physical distance between the comedian and the -audience, no matter how great the enjoyment may have been, always causes -a certain uneasiness. He felt it, and tried to excuse it by grovelling. -He came up to Aschenbach, and along with him the smell, which no one -else seemed concerned about. - -"Listen!" the recluse said in an undertone, almost mechanically. "They -are disinfecting Venice. Why?" The jester answered hoarsely, "On account -of the police. That is a precaution, sir, with such heat, and the -sirocco. The sirocco is oppressive. It is not good for the health." He -spoke as though astonished that any one could ask such things, and -demonstrated with his open hand how oppressive the sirocco was. "Then -there is no plague in Venice?" Aschenbach asked quietly, between his -teeth. The clown's muscular features fell into a grimace of comical -embarrassment. "A plague? What kind of plague? Perhaps our police are a -plague? You like to joke! A plague! Of all things! A precautionary -measure, you understand! A police regulation against the effects of the -oppressive weather." He gesticulated. "Very well," Aschenbach said -several times curtly and quietly; and he quickly dropped an unduly large -coin into the hat. Then with his eyes he signalled the man to leave. He -obeyed, smirking and bowing. But he had not reached the stairs before -two hotel employees threw themselves upon him, and with their faces -close to his began a whispered cross-examination. He shrugged his -shoulders; he gave assurances, he swore that he had kept quiet--that was -evident. He was released, and he returned to the garden; then after a -short conference with his companions, he stepped out once more for a -final song of thanks and leave-taking. - -It was a rousing song which the recluse never recalled having heard -before, a "big number" in incomprehensible dialect, with a laugh refrain -in which the troupe joined regularly at the tops of their voices. At -this point both the words and the accompaniment of the instruments -stopped, with nothing left but a laugh which was somehow arranged -rhythmically although very naturally done--and the soloist especially -showed great talent in giving it a most deceptive vitality. At the -renewal of his professional distance from the audience he had recovered -all his boldness again, and the artificial laugh that he directed up -towards the terrace was derisive. Even before the end of the articulate -portion of the strophe, he seemed to struggle against an irresistible -tickling. He gulped, his voice trembled, he pressed his hand over his -mouth, he contorted his shoulders; and at the proper moment the -ungovernable laugh broke out of him, burst into such real cackles that -it was infectious and communicated itself to the audience, so that on -the terrace also an unfounded hilarity, living off itself alone, started -up. But this seemed to double the singer's exuberance. He bent his -knees, he slapped his thighs, he nearly split himself; he no longer -laughed, he shrieked. He pointed up with his finger, as though nothing -were more comic than the laughing guests there, and finally everyone in -the garden and on the verandah was laughing, even to the waiters, bell -boys, and house-servants in the doorways. - -Aschenbach was no longer resting in his chair; he sat upright, as if -attempting to defend himself, or to escape. But the laughter, the whiffs -of the hospital smell, and the boy's nearness combined to put him into a -trance that held his mind and his senses hopelessly captive. In the -general movement and distraction he ventured to glance across at Tadzio, -and as he did so he dared observe that the boy, in reply to his glance, -was equally serious, much as though he had modelled his conduct and -expression after those of one man, and the prevalent mood had no effect -on him since this one man was not part of it. This portentous childish -obedience had something so disarming and overpowering about it that the -grey-haired man could hardly restrain himself from burying his face in -his hands. It had also seemed to him that Tadzio's occasional stretching -and quick breathing indicated a complaint, a congestion, of the lungs. -"He is sickly, he will probably not grow old," he thought repeatedly -with that positiveness which is often a peculiar relief to desire and -passion. And along with pure solitude he had a feeling of rakish -gratification. - -Meanwhile the Venetians had ended and were leaving. Applause accompanied -them, and their leader did not miss the opportunity to cover his retreat -with further jests. His bows, the kisses he blew, were laughed at--and -so he doubled them. When his companions were already gone, he acted as -though he had hurt himself by backing into a lamp-post, and he crept -through the gate seemingly crippled with pain. Then he suddenly threw -off the mask of comic hard luck, stood upright, hurried away jauntily, -stuck out his tongue insolently at the guests on the terrace, and -slipped into the darkness. The company was breaking up; Tadzio had been -missing from the balustrade for some time. But, to the displeasure of -the waiters, the lonely man sat for a long while over the remains of his -pomegranate drink. Night advanced. Time was crumbling. In the house of -his parents many years back there had been an hour glass--of a sudden he -saw the fragile and expressive instrument again, as though it were -standing in front of him. Fine and noiseless the rust-red sand was -running through the glass neck; and since it was getting low in the -upper half, a speedy little vortex had been formed there. - -As early as the following day, in the afternoon, he had made new -progress in his obstinate baiting of the people he met--and this time he -had all possible success. He walked from the Piazza of St. Mark's into -the English travelling bureau located there; and after changing some -money at the cash desk, he put on the expression of a distrustful -foreigner and launched his fatal question at the attendant clerk. He was -a Britisher; he wore a woollen suit, and was still young, with close-set -eyes, and had that characteristic stolid reliability which is so -peculiarly and strikingly appealing in the tricky, nimble-witted South. -He began, "No reason for alarm, sir. A regulation without any serious -significance. Such measures are often taken to anticipate the unhealthy -effects of the heat and the sirocco . . ." But as he raised his blue -eyes, he met the stare of the foreigner, a tired and somewhat unhappy -stare focussed on his lips with a touch of scorn. Then the Englishman -blushed. "At least," he continued in an emotional undertone, "that is -the official explanation which people here are content to accept. I will -admit that there is something more behind it." And then in his frank and -leisurely manner he told the truth. - -For several years now Indian cholera had shown a heightened tendency to -spread and migrate. Hatched in the warm swamps of the Ganges delta, -rising with the noxious breath of that luxuriant, unfit primitive world -and island wilderness which is shunned by humans and where the tiger -crouches in the bamboo thickets, the plague had raged continuously and -with unusual strength in Hindustan, had reached eastwards to China, -westwards to Afghanistan and Persia, and following the chief caravan -routes, had carried its terrors to Astrachan, and even to Moscow. But -while Europe was trembling lest the spectre continue its advance from -there across the country, it had been transported over the sea by Syrian -merchantmen, and had turned up almost simultaneously in several -Mediterranean ports, had raised its head in Toulon and Malaga, had -showed its mask several times in Palermo and Naples, and seemed -permanently entrenched through Calabria and Apulia. The north of the -peninsula had been spared. Yet in the middle of this May in Venice the -frightful vibrions were found on one and the same day in the blackish -wasted bodies of a cabin boy and a woman who sold greengroceries. The -cases were kept secret. But within a week there were ten, twenty, thirty -more, and in various sections. A man from the Austrian provinces who had -made a pleasure trip to Venice for a few days, returned to his home town -and died with unmistakable symptoms--and that is how the first reports -of the pestilence in the lagoon city got into the German newspapers. The -Venetian authorities answered that the city's health conditions had -never been better, and took the most necessary preventive measures. But -probably the food supply had been infected. Denied and glossed over, -death was eating its way along the narrow streets, and its dissemination -was especially favoured by the premature summer heat which made the -water of the canals lukewarm. Yes, it seemed as though the plague had -got renewed strength, as though the tenacity and fruitfulness of its -stimuli had doubled. Cases of recovery were rare. Out of a hundred -attacks, eighty were fatal, and in the most horrible manner. For the -plague moved with utter savagery, and often showed that most dangerous -form, which is called "the drying." Water from the blood vessels -collected in pockets, and the blood was unable to carry this off. Within -a few hours the victim was parched, his blood became as thick as glue, -and he stifled amid cramps and hoarse groans. Lucky for him if, as -sometimes happened, the attack took the form of a light discomfiture -followed by a profound coma from which he seldom or never awakened. At -the beginning of June the pesthouse of the Ospedale Civico had quietly -filled; there was not much room left in the two orphan asylums, and a -frightfully active commerce was kept up between the wharf of the -Fondamenta Nuove and San Michele, the burial island. But there was the -fear of a general drop in prosperity. The recently opened art exhibit in -the public gardens was to be considered, along with the heavy losses -which in case of panic or unfavourable rumours, would threaten business, -the hotels, the entire elaborate system for exploiting foreigners--and -as these considerations evidently carried more weight than love of truth -or respect for international agreements, the city authorities upheld -obstinately their policy of silence and denial. The chief health officer -had resigned from his post in indignation, and been promptly replaced by -a more tractable personality. The people knew this; and the corruption -of their superiors, together with the predominating insecurity, the -exceptional condition into which the prevalence of death had plunged the -city, induced a certain demoralization of the lower classes, encouraging -shady and anti-social impulses which manifested themselves in licence, -profligacy, and a rising crime wave. Contrary to custom, many drunkards -were seen in the evenings; it was said that at night nasty mobs made the -streets unsafe. Burglaries and even murders became frequent, for it had -already been proved on two occasions that persons who had presumably -fallen victim to the plague had in reality been dispatched with poison -by their own relatives. And professional debauchery assumed abnormal and -obtrusive proportions such as had never been known here before, and to -an extent which is usually found only in the southern parts of the -country and in the Orient. - -The Englishman pronounced the final verdict on these facts. "You would -do well," he concluded, "to leave to-day rather than to-morrow. It -cannot be much more than a couple of days before a quarantine zone is -declared." "Thank you," Aschenbach said, and left the office. - -The square lay sunless and stifling. Unsuspecting foreigners sat in -front of the cafés, or stood among the pigeons in front of the church -and watched the swarms of birds flapping their wings, crowding one -another, and pecking at grains of corn offered them in open palms. The -recluse was feverishly excited, triumphant in his possession of the -truth. But it had left him with a bad taste in his mouth, and a weird -horror in his heart. As he walked up and down the flagstones of the -gorgeous court he was weighing an action which would meet the situation -and would absolve him. This evening after dinner he could approach the -woman with the pearls and make her a speech; he had figured it out word -for word: "Permit a foreigner, madam, to give you some useful advice, a -warning, which is being withheld from you through self-interest. Leave -immediately with Tadzio and your daughters! Venice is full of the -plague." Then he could lay a farewell hand on the head of this tool of a -mocking divinity, turn away, and flee this morass. But he felt at the -same time that he was very far from seriously desiring such a move. He -would retract it, would disengage himself from it. . . . But when we are -distracted we loathe most the thought of retracing our steps. He -recalled a white building, ornamented with inscriptions which glistened -in the evening and in whose transparent mysticism his mind's eye had -lost itself--and then that strange wanderer's form which had awakened in -the aging man the roving hankerings of youth after the foreign and the -remote. And the thought of return, the thought of prudence and -soberness, effort, mastery, disgusted him to such an extent that his -face was distorted with an expression of physical nausea. "It must be -kept silent!" he whispered heavily. And: "I will keep silent!" The -consciousness of his share in the facts and the guilt intoxicated him, -much as a little wine intoxicates a tired brain. The picture of the -diseased and neglected city hovering desolately before him aroused vague -hopes beyond the bounds of reason, but with an egregious sweetness. What -was the scant happiness he had dreamed of a moment ago, compared with -these expectations? What were art and virtue worth to him, over against -the advantages of chaos? He kept silent, and remained in Venice. - -This same night he had a frightful dream, if one can designate as a -dream a bodily and mental experience which occurred to him in the -deepest sleep, completely independent of him, and with a physical -realness, although he never saw himself present or moving about among -the incidents; but their stage rather was his soul itself, and they -broke in from without, trampling down his resistance--a profound and -spiritual resistance--by sheer force; and when they had passed through, -they left his substance, the culture of his lifetime, crushed and -annihilated behind them. - -It began with anguish, anguish and desire, and a frightened curiosity as -to what was coming. It was night, and his senses were on the watch. From -far off a grumble, an uproar, was approaching, a jumble of noises. -Clanking, blaring, and dull thunder, with shrill shouts and a definite -whine in a long drawn out u-sound--all this was sweetly, ominously -interspersed and dominated by the deep cooing of wickedly persistent -flutes which charmed the bowels in a shamelessly penetrative manner. But -he knew one word; it was veiled, and yet would name what was -approaching: "The foreign god!" Vaporous fire began to glow; then he -recognized mountains like those about his summer house. And in the -scattered light, from high up in the woods, among tree trunks and -crumbling moss-grown rocks--people, beasts, a throng, a raging mob -plunged twisting and whirling downwards, and made the hill swarm with -bodies, flames, tumult, and a riotous round dance. Women, tripped by -over-long fur draperies which hung from their waists, were holding up -tambourines and beating on them, their groaning heads flung back. Others -swung sparking firebrands and bare daggers, or wore hissing snakes about -the middle of their bodies, or shrieking held their breasts in their two -hands. Men with horns on their foreheads, shaggy-haired, girded with -hides, bent back their necks and raised their arms and thighs, clashed -brass cymbals and beat furiously at kettledrums, while smooth boys -prodded he-goats with wreathed sticks, climbing on their horns and -falling off with shouts when they bounded. And the bacchantes wailed the -word with the soft consonants and the drawn out u-sound, at once sweet -and savage, like nothing ever heard before. In one place it rang out as -though piped into the air by stags, and it was echoed in another by many -voices, in wild triumph--with it they incited one another to dance and -to fling out their arms and legs, and it was never silent. But -everything was pierced and dominated by the deep coaxing flute. He who -was fighting against this experience--did it not coax him too with its -shameless penetration, into the feast and the excesses of the extreme -sacrifice? His repugnance, his fear, were keen--he was honourably set on -defending himself to the very last against the barbarian, the foe to -intellectual poise and dignity. But the noise, the howling, multiplied -by the resonant walls of the hills, grew, took the upper hand, swelled -to a fury of rapture. Odours oppressed the senses, the pungent smell of -the bucks, the scent of moist bodies, and a waft of stagnant water, with -another smell, something familiar, the smell of wounds and prevalent -disease. At the beating of the drum his heart fluttered, his head was -spinning, he was caught in a frenzy, in a blinding deafening -lewdness--and he yearned to join the ranks of the god. The obscene -symbol, huge, wooden, was uncovered and raised up; then they howled the -magic word with more abandon. Foaming at the mouth, they raged, teased -one another with ruttish gestures and caressing hands; laughing and -groaning, they stuck the goads into one another's flesh and licked the -blood from their limbs. But the dreamer now was with them, in them, and -he belonged to the foreign god. Yes, they were he himself, as they -hurled themselves biting and tearing upon the animals, got entangled in -steaming rags, and fell in promiscuous unions on the torn moss, in -sacrifice to their god. And his soul tasted the unchastity and fury of -decay. - -When he awakened from the affliction of this dream he was unnerved, -shattered, and hopelessly under the power of the demon. He no longer -avoided the inquisitive glances of other people; he did not care if he -was exciting their suspicions. And as a matter of fact they were -fleeing, travelling elsewhere. Numerous bathing houses stood empty, the -occupants of the dining-hall became more and more scattered, and in the -city now one rarely saw a foreigner. The truth seemed to have leaked -out; the panic, despite the reticence of those whose interests were -involved, seemed no longer avoidable. But the woman with the pearls -remained with her family, either because the rumours had not yet reached -her, or because she was too proud and fearless to heed them. Tadzio -remained. And to Aschenbach, in his infatuation, it seemed at times as -though flight and death might remove all the disturbing elements of life -around them, and he stay here alone with the boy. Yes, by the sea in the -forenoon when his eyes rested heavily, irresponsibly, unwaveringly on -the thing he coveted, or when, as the day was ending, he followed -shamelessly after him through streets where the hideous death lurked in -secret--at such times the atrocious seemed to him rich in possibilities, -and laws of morality had dropped away. - -Like any lover, he wanted to please; and he felt a bitter anguish lest -it might not be possible. He added bright youthful details to his dress, -he put on jewels, and used perfumes. During the day he often spent much -time over his toilet, and came to the table strikingly dressed, excited, -and in suspense. In the light of the sweet youthfulness which had done -this to him, he detested his aging body. The sight of his grey hair, his -sharp features, plunged him into shame and hopelessness. It induced him -to attempt rejuvenating his body and appearance. He often visited the -hotel barber. - -Beneath the barber's apron, leaning back in the chair under the -gossiper's expert hands, he winced to observe his reflection in the -mirror. - -"Grey," he said, making a wry face. - -"A little," the man answered. "Due entirely to a slight neglect, an -indifference to outward things, which is conceivable in people of -importance, but it is not exactly praiseworthy. And all the less so -since such persons are above prejudice in matters of nature or art. If -the moral objections of certain people to the art of cosmetics were to -be logically extended to the care of the teeth, they would give no -slight offence. And after all, we are just as old as we feel, and under -some circumstances grey hair would actually stand for more of an untruth -than the despised correction. In your case, sir, you are entitled to the -natural colour of your hair. Will you permit me simply to return what -belongs to you?" - -"How is that?" Aschenbach asked. - -Then the orator washed his client's hair with two kinds of water, one -clear and one dark, and it was as black as in youth. Following this, he -curled it with irons into soft waves, stepped back, and eyed his work. - -"All that is left now," he said, "would be to freshen up the skin a -little." - -And like someone who cannot finish, cannot satisfy himself, he passed -with quickening energy from one manipulation to another. Aschenbach -rested comfortably, incapable of resistance, or rather his hopes aroused -by what was taking place. In the glass he saw his brows arch more evenly -and decisively. His eyes became longer; their brilliance was heightened -by a light touching-up of the lids. A little lower, where the skin had -been a leatherish brown, he saw a delicate crimson tint grow beneath a -deft application of colour. His lips, bloodless a little while past, -became full, and as red as raspberries. The furrows in the cheeks and -about the mouth, the wrinkles of the eyes, disappeared beneath lotions -and cream. With a knocking heart he beheld a blossoming youth. Finally -the beauty specialist declared himself content, after the manner of such -people, by obsequiously thanking the man he had been serving. "A -trifling assistance," he said, as he applied one parting touch. "Now the -gentleman can fall in love unhesitatingly." He walked away, fascinated; -he was happy as in a dream, timid and bewildered. His necktie was red, -his broad-brimmed straw hat was trimmed with a variegated band. - -A tepid storm wind had risen. It was raining sparsely and at intervals, -but the air was damp, thick, and filled with the smell of things -rotting. All around him he heard a fluttering, pattering, and swishing; -and under the fever of his cosmetics it seemed to him as though evil -wind-spirits were haunting the place, impure sea birds which rooted and -gnawed at the food of the condemned and befouled it with their -droppings. For the sultriness destroyed his appetite, and the fancy -suggested itself that the foods were poisoned with contaminating -substances. Tracking the boy one afternoon, Aschenbach had plunged deep -into the tangled centre of the diseased city. He was becoming uncertain -of where he was, since the alleys, waterways, bridges, and little -squares of the labyrinth were all so much alike, and he was no longer -even sure of directions. He was absorbed with the problem of keeping the -pursued figure in sight. And, driven to disgraceful subterfuges, -flattening himself against walls, hiding behind the backs of other -people, for a long time he did not notice the weariness, the exhaustion, -with which emotion and the continual suspense had taxed his mind and his -body. Tadzio walked behind his companions. He always allowed the -governess and the nunlike sisters to precede him in the narrow places; -and loitering behind alone, he would turn his head occasionally to look -over his shoulder and make sure by a glance of his peculiarly dark-grey -eyes that his admirer was following. He saw him, and did not betray him. -Drunk with the knowledge of this, lured forward by those eyes, led -meekly by his passion, the lover stole after his unseemly hope--but -finally he was cheated and lost sight of him. The Poles had crossed a -short arching bridge; the height of the curve hid them from the pursuer, -and when he himself had arrived there he no longer saw them. He hunted -for them vainly in three directions, straight ahead and to either side -along the narrow dirty wharf. In the end he was so tired and unnerved -that he had to give up the search. - -His head was on fire, his body was covered with a sticky sweat, his -knees trembled. He could no longer endure the thirst that was torturing -him, and he looked around for some immediate relief. From a little -vegetable store he bought some fruit--strawberries, soft and overly -ripe--and he ate them as he walked. A very charming, forsaken little -square opened up before him. He recognized it; here he had made his -frustrated plans for flight weeks ago. He let himself sink down on the -steps of the cistern in the middle of the square, and laid his head -against the stone cylinder. It was quiet; grass was growing up through -the pavement; refuse was scattered about. Among the weather-beaten, -unusually tall houses surrounding him there was one like a palace, with -little lion-covered balconies, and Gothic windows with blank emptiness -behind them. On the ground floor of another house was a drug store. Warm -gusts of wind occasionally carried the smell of carbolic acid. - -He sat there, he, the master, the artist of dignity, the author of The -Wretch, a work which had, in such accurate symbols, renounced -vagabondage and the depths of misery, had denied all sympathy with the -engulfed, and had cast out the outcast; the man who had arrived and, -victor over his own knowledge, had outgrown all irony and acclimatized -himself to the obligations of public confidence; whose reputation was -official, whose name had been knighted, and on whose style boys were -urged to pattern themselves--he sat there. His eyelids were shut; only -now and then a mocking uneasy side-glance slipped out from beneath them. -And his loose lips, set off by the cosmetics, formed isolated words of -the strange dream-logic created by his half-slumbering brain. - -"For beauty, Phaedrus, mark me, beauty alone is both divine and visible -at once; and thus it is the road of the sensuous; it is, little -Phaedrus, the road of the artist to the spiritual. But do you now -believe, my dear, that they can ever attain wisdom and true human -dignity for whom the road to the spiritual leads through the senses? Or -do you believe rather (I leave the choice to you) that this is a -pleasant but perilous road, a really wrong and sinful road, which -necessarily leads astray? For you must know that we poets cannot take -the road of beauty without having Eros join us and set himself up as our -leader. Indeed, we may even be heroes after our fashion, and hardened -warriors, though we be like women, for passion is our exaltation, and -our desire must remain love--that is our pleasure and our disgrace. You -now see, do you not, that we poets cannot be wise and dignified? That we -necessarily go astray, necessarily remain lascivious, and adventurers in -emotion? The mastery of our style is all lies and foolishness, our -renown and honour are a farce, the confidence of the masses in us is -highly ridiculous, and the training of the public and of youth through -art is a precarious undertaking which should be forbidden. For how -indeed could he be a fit instructor who is born with a natural leaning -towards the precipice? We might well disavow it and reach after dignity, -but wherever we turn it attracts us. Let us, say, renounce the -dissolvent of knowledge, since knowledge, Phaedrus, has no dignity or -strength. It is aware, it understands and pardons, but without reserve -and form. It feels sympathy with the precipice, it is the precipice. -This then we abandon with firmness, and from now on our efforts matter -only by their yield of beauty, or in other words, simplicity, greatness, -and new rigour, form, and a second type of openness. But form and -openness, Phaedrus, lead to intoxication and to desire, lead the noble -perhaps into sinister revels of emotion which his own beautiful rigour -rejects as infamous, lead to the precipice, yes they too lead to the -precipice. They lead us poets there, I say, since we cannot force -ourselves, since we can merely let ourselves out And now I am going, -Phaedrus. You stay here; and when you no longer see me, then you go -too." - - -A few days later, as Gustav von Aschenbach was not feeling well, he left -the beach hotel at a later hour in the morning than usual. He had to -fight against certain attacks of vertigo which were only partially -physical and were accompanied by a pronounced malaise, a feeling of -bafflement and hopelessness--while he was not certain whether this had -to do with conditions outside him or with his own nature. In the lobby -he noticed a large pile of luggage ready for shipment; he asked the -door-keeper who it was that was leaving, and heard in answer the Polish -title which he had learned secretly. He accepted this without any -alteration of his sunken features, with that curt elevation of the head -by which one acknowledges something he does not need to know. Then he -asked, "When?" The answer was, "After lunch." He nodded, and went to the -beach. - -It was not very inviting. Rippling patches of rain retreated across the -wide flat water separating the beach from the first long sand-bank. An -air of autumn, of things past their prime, seemed to lie over the -pleasure spot which had once been so alive with colour and was now -almost abandoned. The sand was no longer kept clean. A camera, seemingly -without an owner, stood on its tripod by the edge of the sea; and a -black cloth thrown over it was flapping noisily in the wind. - -Tadzio, with the three or four companions still left, was moving about -to the right in front of his family's cabin. And midway between the sea -and the row of bathing houses, lying back in his chair with a robe over -his knees, Aschenbach looked at him once more. The game, which was not -being supervised since the women were probably occupied with -preparations for the journey, seemed to have no rules, and it was -degenerating. The stocky boy with the sleek black hair who was called -Jaschu had been angered and blinded by sand flung in his face. He forced -Tadzio into a wrestling match which quickly ended in the fall of the -beauty, who was weaker. But as though in the hour of parting the servile -feelings of the inferior had turned to merciless brutality and were -trying to get vengeance for a long period of slavery, the victor did not -let go of the boy underneath, but knelt on his back and pressed his face -so persistently into the sand that Tadzio, already breathless from the -struggle, was in danger of strangling. His attempts to shake off the -weight were fitful; for moments they stopped entirely and were resumed -again as mere twitchings. Enraged, Aschenbach was about to spring to the -rescue, when the torturer finally released his victim. Tadzio, very -pale, raised himself halfway and sat motionless for several minutes, -resting on one arm, with rumpled hair and glowering eyes. Then he stood -up completely, and moved slowly away. They called him, cheerfully at -first, then anxiously and imploringly; he did not listen. The swarthy -boy, who seemed to regret his excesses immediately afterwards, caught up -with him and tried to placate him. A movement of the shoulder put him at -his distance. Tadzio went down obliquely to the water. He was barefoot, -and wore his striped linen suit with the red bow. - -He lingered on the edge of the water with his head down, drawing figures -in the wet sand with one toe; then he went into the shallows, which did -not cover his knees in the deepest place, crossed them leisurely, and -arrived at the sand-bank. He stood there a moment, his face turned to -the open sea; soon after, he began stepping slowly to the left along the -narrow stretch of exposed ground. Separated from the mainland by the -expanse of water, separated from his companions by a proud moodiness, he -moved along, a strongly isolated and unrelated figure with fluttering -hair--placed out there in the sea, the wind, against the vague mists. He -stopped once more to look around. And suddenly, as though at some -recollection, some impulse, with one hand on his hip he turned the upper -part of his body in a beautiful twist which began from the base--and he -looked over his shoulder towards the shore. The watcher sat there, as he -had sat once before when for the first time these twilight-grey eyes had -turned at the doorway and met his own. His head, against the back of the -chair, had slowly followed the movements of the boy walking yonder. Now, -simultaneously with this glance it rose and sank on his breast, so that -his eyes looked out from underneath, while his face took on the loose, -inwardly relaxed expression of deep sleep. But it seemed to him as -though the pale and lovely lure out there were smiling to him, nodding -to him; as though, removing his hand from his hip, he were signalling to -come out, were vaguely guiding towards egregious promises. And, as often -before, he stood up to follow him. - -Some minutes passed before any one hurried to the aid of the man who had -collapsed into one corner of his chair. He was brought to his room. And -on the same day a respectfully shocked world received the news of his -death. - - - - -_The End_ - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH IN VENICE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Death in Venice</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Thomas Mann</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Kenneth Burke</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 16, 2021 [eBook #66073]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Images generously made available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH IN VENICE ***</div> - - -<h2>THE<br /> -<br /> -DIAL</h2> - - - - -<h4>VOLUME LXXVI</h4> - - - - -<h5><i>January to June, 1924</i></h5> - - - - -<h4>THE DIAL PUBLISHING COMPANY</h4> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h4>MARCH 1924</h4> - - - - -<h2>DEATH IN VENICE</h2> - -<h3>BY THOMAS MANN</h3> - - - - -<h4><i>Translated From the German by Kenneth Burke</i></h4> - - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -<p class="nind">CHAPTER <a href="#I">I</a><br /> -CHAPTER <a href="#II">II</a><br /> -CHAPTER <a href="#III">III</a><br /> -CHAPTER <a href="#IV">IV</a><br /> -CHAPTER <a href="#V">V</a></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="I">I</a></h4> - -<p> -On a spring afternoon of the year 19—, when our continent lay -under such threatening weather for whole months, Gustav Aschenbach, or -von Aschenbach as his name read officially after his fiftieth birthday, -had left his apartment on the Prinzregentenstrasse in Munich and had -gone for a long walk. Overwrought by the trying and precarious work of -the forenoon—which had demanded a maximum wariness, prudence, -penetration, and rigour of the will—the writer had not been able -even after the noon meal to break the impetus of the productive -mechanism within him, that <i>motus animi continuus</i> which -constitutes, according to Cicero, the foundation of eloquence; and he -had not attained the healing sleep which—what with the increasing -exhaustion of his strength—he needed in the middle of each day. So -he had gone outdoors soon after tea, in the hopes that air and movement -would restore him and prepare him for a profitable evening. -</p> - -<p> -It was the beginning of May, and after cold, damp weeks a false -midsummer had set in. The English Gardens, although the foliage was -still fresh and sparse, were as pungent as in August, and in the parts -nearer the city had been full of conveyances and promenaders. At the -Aumeister, which he had reached by quieter and quieter paths, Aschenbach -had surveyed for a short time the Wirtsgarten with its lively crowds and -its border of cabs and carriages. From here, as the sun was sinking, he -had started home, outside the park, across the open fields; and since he -felt tired and a storm was threatening from the direction of Föhring, -he waited at the North Cemetery for the tram which would take him -directly back to the city. -</p> - -<p> -It happened that he found no one in the station or its vicinity. There -was not a vehicle to be seen, either on the paved Ungererstrasse, with -its solitary glistening rails stretching out towards Schwabing, or on -the Föhringer Chaussee. Behind the fences of the stone-masons' -establishments, where the crosses, memorial tablets, and monuments -standing for sale formed a second, uninhabited burial ground, there was -no sign of life; and opposite him the Byzantine structure of the Funeral -Hall lay silent in the reflection of the departing day; its façade, -ornamented in luminous colours with Greek crosses and hieratic -paintings, above which were displayed inscriptions symmetrically -arranged in gold letters, and texts chosen to bear on the life beyond; -such as, "They enter into the dwelling of the Lord," or, "The light of -eternity shall shine upon them." And for some time as he stood waiting -he found a grave diversion in spelling out the formulas and letting his -mind's eye lose itself in their transparent mysticism, when, returning -from his reveries, he noticed in the portico, above the two apocalyptic -animals guarding the steps, a man whose somewhat unusual appearance gave -his thoughts an entirely new direction. -</p> - -<p> -Whether he had just now come out from the inside through the bronze -door, or had approached and mounted from the outside unobserved, -remained uncertain. Aschenbach, without applying himself especially to -the matter, was inclined to believe the former. Of medium height, thin, -smooth-shaven, and noticeably pug-nosed, the man belonged to the -red-haired type and possessed the appropriate fresh milky complexion. -Obviously, he was not of Bavarian extraction, since at least the white -and straight-brimmed straw hat that covered his head gave his appearance -the stamp of a foreigner, of someone who had come from a long distance. -To be sure, he was wearing the customary knapsack strapped across his -shoulders, and a belted suit of rough yellow wool; his left arm was -resting on his thigh, and his grey storm cape was thrown across it. In -his right hand he held a cane with an iron ferrule, which he had stuck -diagonally into the ground, and, with his feet crossed, was leaning his -hip against the crook. His head was raised so that the Adam's-apple -protruded hard and bare on a scrawny neck emerging from a loose -sport-shirt. And he was staring sharply off into the distance, with -colourless, red-lidded eyes between which stood two strong, vertical -wrinkles peculiarly suited to his short, turned-up nose. Thus—and -perhaps his elevated position helped to give the impression—his -bearing had something majestic and commanding about it, something bold, or -even savage. For whether he was grimacing because he was blinded by the -setting sun, or whether it was a case of a permanent distortion of the -physiognomy, his lips seemed too short, they were so completely pulled -back from his teeth that these were exposed even to the gums, and stood -out white and long. -</p> - -<p> -It is quite possible that Aschenbach, in his half-distracted, -half-inquisitive examination of the stranger, had been somewhat -inconsiderate, for he suddenly became aware that his look was being -answered, and indeed so militantly, so straight in the eye, so plainly -with the intention of driving the thing through to the very end and -compelling him to capitulate, that he turned away uncomfortably and -began walking along by the fences, deciding casually that he would pay -no further attention to the man. The next minute he had forgotten him. -But perhaps the exotic element in the stranger's appearance had worked -on his imagination; or a new physical or spiritual influence of some -sort had come into play. He was quite astonished to note a peculiar -inner expansion, a kind of roving unrest, a youthful longing after -far-off places: a feeling so vivid, so new, or so long dormant and -neglected, that, with his hands behind his back and his eyes on the -ground, he came to a sudden stop, and examined into the nature and -purport of this emotion. -</p> - -<p> -It was the desire for travel, nothing more; although, to be sure, it had -attacked him violently, and was heightened to a passion, even to the -point of an hallucination. His yearnings crystallized; his imagination, -still in ferment from his hours of work, actually pictured all the -marvels and terrors of a manifold world which it was suddenly struggling -to conceive. He saw a landscape, a tropical swampland under a heavy, -murky sky, damp, luxuriant, and enormous, a kind of prehistoric -wilderness of islands, bogs, and arms of water, sluggish with mud; he -saw, near him and in the distance, the hairy shafts of palms rising out -of a rank lecherous thicket, out of places where the plant-life was fat, -swollen, and blossoming exorbitantly; he saw strangely misshapen trees -sending their roots into the ground, into stagnant pools with greenish -reflections; and here, between floating flowers which were milk-white -and large as dishes, birds of a strange nature, high-shouldered, with -crooked bills, were standing in the muck, and looking motionlessly to -one side; between dense, knotted stalks of bamboo he saw the glint from -the eyes of a crouching tiger—and he felt his heart knocking with -fear and with puzzling desires. Then the image disappeared; and with a -shake of his head Aschenbach resumed his walk along past the fences of the -stone-masons' establishments. -</p> - -<p> -Since the time, at least, when he could command the means to enjoy the -advantages of moving about the world as he pleased, he had considered -travelling simply as an hygienic precaution which must be complied with -now and then despite one's feelings and one's preferences. Too busy with -the tasks arranged for him by his interest in his own ego and in the -problems of Europe, too burdened with the onus of production, too little -prone to diversion, and in no sense an amateur of the varied amusements -of the great world, he had been thoroughly satisfied with such knowledge -of the earth's surface as any one can get without moving far out of his -own circle; and he had never even been tempted to leave Europe. -Especially now that his life was slowly on the decline, and that the -artist's fear of not having finished—this uneasiness lest the -clock run down before he had done his part and given himself -completely—could no longer be waived aside as a mere whim, he had -confined his outer existence almost exclusively to the beautiful city -which had become his home and to the rough country house which he had -built in the mountains and where he spent the rainy summers. -</p> - -<p> -Further, this thing which had laid hold of him so belatedly, but with -such suddenness, was very readily moderated and adjusted by the force of -his reason and of a discipline which he had practised since youth. He -had intended carrying his life work forward to a certain point before -removing to the country. And the thought of knocking about the world for -months and neglecting his work during this time, seemed much too lax and -contrary to his plans; it really could not be considered seriously. Yet -he knew only too well what the reasons were for this unexpected -temptation. It was the urge to escape—he admitted to -himself—this yearning for the new and the remote, this appetite -for freedom, for unburdening, for forgetfulness; it was a pressure away -from his work, from the steady drudgery of a coldly passionate service. -To be sure, he loved this work and almost loved the enervating battle -that was fought daily between a proud tenacious will—so often -tested—and this growing weariness which no one was to suspect and -which must not betray itself in his productions by any sign of weakness -or negligence. But it seemed wise not to draw the bow overtightly, and -not to strangle by sheer obstinacy so strongly persistent an appetite. -He thought of his work, thought of the place at which yesterday and now -again to-day he had been forced to leave off, and which, it seemed, -would yield neither to patience and coaxing nor to a definite attack. He -examined it again, trying to break through or to circumvent the -deadlock, but he gave up with a shudder of repugnance. There was no -unusual difficulty here; what balked him were the scruples of aversion, -which took the form of a fastidious insatiability. Even as a young man -this insatiability had meant to him the very nature, the fullest -essence, of talent; and for that reason he had restrained and chilled -his emotions, since he was aware that they incline to content themselves -with a happy approximation, a state of semi-completion. Were these -enslaved emotions now taking their vengeance on him, by leaving him in -the lurch, by refusing to forward and lubricate his art; and were they -bearing off with them every enjoyment, every live interest in form and -expression? -</p> - -<p> -Not that he was producing anything bad; his years gave him at least this -advantage, that he felt himself at all times in full and easy possession -of his craftsmanship. But while the nation honoured him for this, he -himself was not content; and it seemed to him that his work lacked the -marks of that fiery and fluctuating emotionalism which is an enormous -thing in one's favour, and which, while it argues an enjoyment on the -part of the author, also constitutes, more than any depth of content, -the enjoyment of the amateur. He feared the summer in the country, alone -in the little house with the maid who prepared his meals, and the -servant who brought them to him. He feared the familiar view of the -mountain peaks and the slopes which would stand about him in his boredom -and his discontent. Consequently there was need of a break in some new -direction. If the summer was to be endurable and productive, he must -attempt something out of his usual orbit; he must relax, get a change of -air, bring an element of freshness into the blood. To travel, -then—that much was settled. Not far, not all the way to the -tigers. But one night on the sleeper, and a rest of three or four weeks -at some pleasant popular resort in the South. . . . -</p> - -<p> -He thought this out while the noise of the electric tram came nearer -along the Ungererstrasse; and as he boarded it he decided to devote the -evening to the study of maps and time-tables. On the platform it -occurred to him to look around for the man in the straw hat, his -companion during that most significant time spent waiting at the -station. But his whereabouts remained uncertain, as he was not to be -seen either at the place where he was formerly standing, or anywhere -else in the vicinity of the station, or on the car itself. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="II">II</a></h4> - -<p> -The author of that lucid and powerful prose epic built around the life -of Frederick of Prussia; the tenacious artist who, after long -application, wove rich, varied strands of human destiny together under -one single predominating theme in the fictional tapestry known as Maya; -the creator of that stark tale which is called The Wretch and which -pointed out for an entire oncoming generation the possibility of some -moral certainty beyond pure knowledge; finally, the writer (and this -sums up briefly the works of his mature period) of the impassioned -treatise on Art and the Spirit, whose capacity for mustering facts, and, -further, whose fluency in their presentation, led cautious judges to -place this treatise alongside Schiller's conclusions on naïve and -sentimental poetry—Gustav Aschenbach, then, was the son of a -higher law official, and was born in L——, a leading city in -the Province of Silesia. His forbears had been officers, magistrates, -government functionaries, men who had led severe, steady lives serving -their king, their state. A deeper strain of spirituality had been -manifest in them once, in the person of a preacher; the preceding -generation had brought a brisker, more sensuous blood into the family -through the author's mother, daughter of a Bohemian band-master. The -traces of foreignness in his features came from her. A marriage of sober -painstaking conscientiousness with impulses of a darker, more fiery -nature had had an artist as its result, and this particular artist. -</p> - -<p> -Since his whole nature was centred around acquiring a reputation, he -showed himself, if not exactly precocious, at least (thanks to the -firmness and pithiness of his personality, his accent) ripened and -adjusted to the public at an early age. Almost as a schoolboy he had -made a name for himself. Within ten years he had learned to face the -world through the medium of his writing-table, to discharge the -obligations of his fame in a correspondence which (since many claims are -pressed on the successful, the trustworthy) had to be brief as well as -pleasant and to the point. At forty, wearied by the vicissitudes and the -exertion of his own work, he had to manage a daily mail which bore the -postmarks of countries in all parts of the world. -</p> - -<p> -Equally removed from the banal and the eccentric, his talents were so -constituted as to gain both the confidence of the general public and the -stable admiration and sympathy of the critical. Thus even as a young man -continually devoted to the pursuit of craftsmanship—and that of no -ordinary kind—he had never known the careless freedom of youth. When, -around thirty-five years of age, he had been taken ill in Vienna, one -sharp observer said of him in company, "You see, Aschenbach has always -lived like this," and the speaker contracted the fingers of his left -hand into a fist; "never like this," and he let his open hand droop -comfortably from the arm of his chair. That hit the mark; and the -heroic, the ethical about it all was that he was not of a strong -constitution, and though he was pledged by his nature to these steady -efforts, he was not really born to them. -</p> - -<p> -Considerations of ill-health had kept him from attending school as a -boy, and had compelled him to receive instruction at home. He had grown -up alone, without comrades—and he was forced to realize soon enough -that he belonged to a race which often lacked, not talent, but that -physical substructure which talent relies on for its fullest fruition: a -race accustomed to giving its best early, and seldom extending its -faculties over the years. But his favourite phrase was "carrying -through"; in his novel on Frederick he saw the pure apotheosis of this -command, which struck him as the essential concept of the virtuous in -action and passion. Also, he wished earnestly to grow old, since he had -always maintained that the only artistry which can be called truly -great, comprehensive, yes even truly admirable, is that which is -permitted to bear fruits characteristic of each stage in human -development. -</p> - -<p> -Since he must carry the responsibilities of his talent on frail -shoulders, and wanted to go a long way, the primary requirement was -discipline—and fortunately discipline was his direct inheritance from -his father's side. By forty, fifty, or at an earlier age when others are -still slashing about with enthusiasm, and are contentedly putting off to -some later date the execution of plans on a large scale, he would start -the day early, dashing cold water over his chest and back, and then with -a couple of tall wax candles in silver candlesticks at the head of his -manuscript, he would pay out to his art, in two or three eager, -scrupulous morning hours, the strength which he had accumulated in -sleep. It was pardonable, indeed it was a direct tribute to the -effectiveness of his moral scheme, that the uninitiated took his Maya -world, and the massive epic machinery upon which the life of the hero -Frederick was unrolled, as evidence of long breath and sustaining power. -While actually they had been built up layer by layer, in small daily -allotments, through hundreds and hundreds of single inspirations. And if -they were so excellent in both composition and texture, it was solely -because their creator had held out for years under the strain of one -single work, with a steadiness of will and a tenacity comparable to that -which conquered his native province; and because, finally, he had turned -over his most vital and valuable hours to the problem of minute -revision. -</p> - -<p> -In order that a significant work of the mind may exert immediately some -broad and deep effect, a secret relationship, or even conformity, must -exist between the personal destiny of the author and the common destiny -of his contemporaries. People do not know why they raise a work of art -to fame. Far from being connoisseurs, they believe that they see in it -hundreds of virtues which justify so much interest; but the true reason -for their applause is an unconscious sympathy. Aschenbach had once -stated quite plainly in some remote place that nearly everything great -which comes into being does so in spite of something—in spite of -sorrow or suffering, poverty, destitution, physical weakness, depravity, -passion, or a thousand other handicaps. But that was not merely an -observation; it was a discovery, the formula of his life and reputation, -the key to his work. And what wonder then that it was also the -distinguishing moral trait, the dominating gesture, of his most -characteristic figures? -</p> - -<p> -Years before, one shrewd analyst had written of the new hero-type to -which this author gave preference, and which kept turning up in -variations of one sort or another: he called it the conception of "an -intellectual and youthful masculinity" which "stands motionless, -haughty, ashamed, with jaw set, while swords and spear-points beset the -body." That was beautiful and ingenious; and it was exact, although it -may have seemed to suggest too much passivity. For to be poised against -fatality, to meet adverse conditions gracefully, is more than simple -endurance; it is an act of aggression, a positive triumph—and the -figure of Sebastian is the most beautiful figure, if not of art as a -whole, at least of the art of literature. Looking into this fictional -world, one saw: a delicate self-mastery by which any inner -deterioration, any biological decay was kept concealed from the eyes of -the world; a crude, vicious sensuality capable of fanning its rising -passions into pure flame, yes, even of mounting to dominance in the -realm of beauty; a pallid weakness which draws from the glowing depths -of the soul the strength to bow whole arrogant peoples before the foot -of the cross, or before the feet of weakness itself; a charming manner -maintained in his cold, strict service to form; a false, precarious mode -of living, and the keenly enervating melancholy and artifice of the born -deceiver—to observe such trials as this was enough to make one -question whether there really was any heroism other than weakness. And in -any case, what heroism could be more in keeping with the times? Gustav -Aschenbach was the one poet among the many workers on the verge of -exhaustion: all those over-burdened, used-up, tenacious moralists of -production who, delicately built and destitute of means, can rely for a -time at least on will-power and the shrewd husbandry of their resources -to secure the effects of greatness. There are many such: they are the -heroes of the period. And they all found themselves in his works; here -they were indeed, upheld, intensified, applauded; they were grateful to -him, they acclaimed him. -</p> - -<p> -In his time he had been young and raw; and misled by his age he had -blundered in public. He had stumbled, had exposed himself; both in -writing and in talk he had offended against caution and tact. But he had -acquired the dignity which, as he insisted, is the innate goad and -craving of every great talent; in fact, it could be said that his entire -development had been a conscious undeviating progression away from the -embarrassments of scepticism and irony, and towards dignity. -</p> - -<p> -The general masses are satisfied by vigour and tangibility of treatment -rather than by any close intellectual processes; but youth, with its -passion for the absolute, can be arrested only by the problematical. And -Aschenbach had been absolute, problematical, as only a youth could be. -He had been a slave to the intellect, had played havoc with knowledge, -had ground up his seed crops, had divulged secrets, had discredited -talent, had betrayed art—yes, while his modellings were entertaining -the faithful votaries, filling them with enthusiasm, making their lives -more keen, this youthful artist was taking the breath away from the -generation then in its twenties by his cynicisms on the questionable -nature of art, and of artistry itself. -</p> - -<p> -But it seems that nothing blunts the edge of a noble, robust mind more -quickly and more thoroughly than the sharp and bitter corrosion of -knowledge; and certainly the moody radicalism of the youth, no matter -how conscientious, was shallow in comparison with his firm determination -as an older man and a master to deny knowledge, to reject it, to pass it -with raised head, in so far as it is capable of crippling, discouraging, -or degrading to the slightest degree, our will, acts, feelings, or even -passions. How else could the famous story of The Wretch be understood -than as an outburst of repugnance against the disreputable psychologism -of the times: embodied in the figure of that soft and stupid half-clown -who pilfers a destiny for himself by guiding his wife (from -powerlessness, from lasciviousness, from ethical frailty) into the arms -of an adolescent, and believes that he may through profundity commit -vileness? The verbal pressure with which he here cast out the outcast -announced the return from every moral scepticism, from all -fellow-feeling with the engulfed: it was the counter-move to the laxity -of the sympathetic principle that to understand all is to forgive -all—and the thing that was here well begun, even nearly completed, -was that "miracle of reborn ingenuousness" which was taken up a little -later in one of the author's dialogues expressly and not without a -certain discreet emphasis. Strange coincidences! Was it as a result of -this rebirth, this new dignity and sternness, that his feeling for -beauty—a discriminating purity, simplicity, and evenness of attack -which henceforth gave his productions such an obvious, even such a -deliberate stamp of mastery and classicism—showed an almost -excessive strengthening about this time? But ethical resoluteness -in the exclusion of science, of emancipatory and restrictive -knowledge—does this not in turn signify a simplification, a -reduction morally of the world to too limited terms, and thus also a -strengthened capacity for the forbidden, the evil, the morally -impossible? And does not form have two aspects? Is it not moral and -unmoral at once—moral in that it is the result and expression of -discipline, but unmoral, and even immoral, in that by nature it contains -an indifference to morality, is calculated, in fact, to make morality -bend beneath its proud and unencumbered sceptre? -</p> - -<p> -Be that as it may. An evolution is a destiny; and why should his -evolution, which had been upheld by the general confidence of a vast -public, not run through a different course from one accomplished outside -the lustre and the entanglements of fame? Only chronic vagabondage will -find it tedious and be inclined to scoff when a great talent outgrows -the libertine chrysalis-stage, learns to seize upon and express the -dignity of the mind, and superimposes a formal etiquette upon a solitude -which had been filled with unchastened and rigidly isolated sufferings -and struggles and had brought all this to a point of power and honour -among men. Further, how much sport, defiance, indulgence there is in the -self-formation of a talent! Gradually something official, didactic crept -into Gustav Aschenbach's productions, his style in later life fought shy -of any abruptness and boldness, any subtle and unexpected contrasts; he -inclined towards the fixed and standardized, the conventionally elegant, -the conservative, the formal, the formulated, nearly. And, as is -traditionally said of Louis XIV, with the advancing years he came to -omit every common word from his vocabulary. At about this time it -happened that the educational authorities included selected pages by him -in their prescribed school readers. This was deeply sympathetic to his -nature, and he did not decline when a German prince who had just mounted -to the throne raised the author of the Frederick to nobility on the -occasion of his fiftieth birthday. After a few years of unrest, a few -tentative stopping-places here and there, he soon chose Munich as his -permanent home, and lived there in a state of middle-class -respectability such as fits in with the life of the mind in certain -individual instances. The marriage which, when still young, he had -contracted with a girl of an educated family came to an end with her -death after a short period of happiness. He was left with a daughter, -now married. He had never had a son. -</p> - -<p> -Gustav von Aschenbach was somewhat below average height, dark, and -smooth-shaven. His head seemed a bit too large in comparison with his -almost dapper figure. His hair was brushed straight back, thinning out -towards the crown, but very full about the temples, and strongly marked -with grey; it framed a high, ridged forehead. Gold spectacles with -rimless lenses cut into the bridge of his bold, heavy nose. The mouth -was big, sometimes drooping, sometimes suddenly pinched and firm. His -cheeks were thin and wrinkled, his well-formed chin had a slight cleft. -This head, usually bent patiently to one side, seemed to have gone -through momentous experiences, and yet it was his art which had produced -those effects in his face, effects which are elsewhere the result of -hard and agitated living. Behind this brow the brilliant repartee of the -dialogue on war between Voltaire and the king had been born; these eyes, -peering steadily and wearily from behind their glasses, had seen the -bloody inferno of the lazaret in the Seven Years' War. Even as it -applies to the individual, art is a heightened mode of existence. It -gives deeper pleasures, it consumes more quickly. It carves into its -servants' faces the marks of imaginary and spiritual adventures, and -though their external activities may be as quiet as a cloister, it -produces a lasting voluptuousness, over-refinement, fatigue, and -curiosity of the nerves such as can barely result from a life filled -with illicit passions and enjoyments. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="III">III</a></h4> - -<p> -Various matters of a literary and social nature delayed his departure -until about two weeks after that walk in Munich. Finally he gave orders -to have his country house ready for occupancy within a month; and one -day between the middle and the end of May he took the night train for -Trieste, where he made a stop-over of only twenty-four hours, and -embarked the following morning for Pola. -</p> - -<p> -What he was hunting was something foreign and unrelated to himself which -would at the same time be quickly within reach; and so he stopped at an -island in the Adriatic which had become well-known in recent years. It -lay not far off the Istrian coast, with beautifully rugged cliffs -fronting the open sea, and natives who dressed in variegated tatters and -made strange sounds when they spoke. But rain and a heavy atmosphere, a -provincial and exclusively Austrian patronage at the hotel, and the lack -of that restfully intimate association with the sea which can be gotten -only by a soft, sandy beach, irritated him, and prevented him from -feeling that he had found the place he was looking for. Something within -was disturbing him, and drawing him he was not sure where. He studied -sailing dates, he looked about him questioningly, and of a sudden, as a -thing both astounding and self-evident, his goal was before him. If you -wanted to reach over night the unique, the fabulously different, where -did you go? But that was plain. What was he doing here? He had lost the -trail. He had wanted to go there. He did not delay in giving notice of -his mistake in stopping here. In the early morning mist, a week and a -half after his arrival on the island, a fast motorboat was carrying him -and his luggage back over the water to the naval port, and he landed -there just long enough to cross the gangplank to the damp deck of a ship -which was lying under steam ready for the voyage to Venice. -</p> - -<p> -It was an old hulk flying the Italian flag, decrepit, sooty, and -mournful. In a cave-like, artificially lighted inside cabin where -Aschenbach, immediately upon boarding the ship, was conducted by a dirty -hunchbacked sailor who smirked politely, there was sitting behind a -table, his hat cocked over his forehead and a cigarette stump in the -corner of his mouth, a man with a goatee, and with the face of an -old-style circus director, who was taking down the particulars of the -passengers with professional grimaces and distributing the tickets. "To -Venice!" he repeated Aschenbach's request, as he extended his arm and -plunged his pen into the pasty dregs of a precariously tilted inkwell. -"To Venice, first class! At your service, sir." And he wrote a generous -scrawl, sprinkled it with blue sand out of a box, let the sand run off -into a clay bowl, folded the paper with sallow, bony fingers, and began -writing again. "A happily chosen destination!" he chatted on. "Ah, -Venice! A splendid city! A city of irresistible attractiveness for the -educated on account of its history as well as its present-day charms!" -The smooth rapidity of his movements and the empty words accompanying -them had something anaesthetic and reassuring about them, much as though -he feared lest the traveller might still be vacillating in his decision -to go to Venice. He handled the cash briskly, and let the change fall on -the spotted table-cover with the skill of a croupier. "A pleasant -journey, sir!" he said with a theatrical bow. "Gentlemen, I have the -honour of serving you!" he called out immediately after, with his arm -upraised, and he acted as if business were in full swing, although no -one else was there to require his attention. Aschenbach returned to the -deck. -</p> - -<p> -With one arm on the railing, he watched the passengers on board and the -idlers who loitered around the dock waiting for the ship to sail. The -second class passengers, men and women, were huddled together on the -foredeck, using boxes and bundles as seats. A group of young people made -up the travellers on the first deck, clerks from Pola, it seemed, who -had gathered in the greatest excitement for an excursion to Italy. They -made a considerable fuss about themselves and their enterprise, -chattered, laughed, enjoyed their own antics self-contentedly, and, -leaning over the hand-rails, shouted flippantly and mockingly at their -comrades who, with portfolios under their arms, were going up and down -the waterfront on business and kept threatening the picnickers with -their canes. One, in a bright yellow summer suit of ultra-fashionable -cut, with a red necktie, and a rakishly tilted panama, surpassed all the -others in his crowing good humour. But as soon as Aschenbach looked at -him a bit more carefully, he discovered with a kind of horror that the -youth was a cheat. He was old, that was unquestionable. There were -wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. The faint crimson of the cheeks was -paint, the hair under his brilliantly decorated straw hat was a wig; his -neck was hollow and stringy, his turned-up moustache and the imperial on -his chin were dyed; the full set of yellow teeth which he displayed when -he laughed, a cheap artificial plate; and his hands, with signet rings -on both index fingers, were those of an old man. Fascinated with -loathing, Aschenbach watched him in his intercourse with his friends. -Did they not know, did they not observe that he was old, that he was not -entitled to wear their bright, foppish clothing, that he was not -entitled to play at being one of them? Unquestioningly, and as quite the -usual thing, it seemed, they allowed him among them, treating him as one -of their own kind and returning his jovial nudges in the ribs without -repugnance. How could that be? Aschenbach laid his hand on his forehead -and closed his eyes; they were hot, since he had had too little sleep. -He felt as though everything were not quite the same as usual, as though -some dream-like estrangement, some peculiar distortion of the world, -were beginning to take possession of him, and perhaps this could be -stopped if he hid his face for a time and then looked around him again. -Yet at this moment he felt as though he were swimming; and looking up -with an unreasoned fear, he discovered that the heavy, lugubrious body -of the ship was separating slowly from the walled bank. Inch by inch, -with the driving and reversing of the engine, the strip of dirty -glistening water widened between the dock and the side of the ship; and -after cumbersome manoeuvring, the steamer finally turned its nose -towards the open sea. Aschenbach crossed to the starboard side, where -the hunchback had set up a deck-chair for him, and a steward in a -spotted dress-coat asked after his wants. -</p> - -<p> -The sky was grey, the wind damp. Harbour and islands had been left -behind, and soon all land was lost in the haze. Flakes of coal dust, -bloated with moisture, fell over the washed deck, which would not dry. -After the first hour an awning was spread, since it had begun to rain. -</p> - -<p> -Bundled up in his coat, a book in his lap, the traveller rested, and the -hours passed unnoticed. It stopped raining; the canvas awning was -removed. The horizon was unbroken. The sea, empty, like an enormous -disk, lay stretched under the curve of the sky. But in empty -inarticulate space our senses lose also the dimensions of time, and we -slip into the incommensurate. As he rested, strange shadowy figures, the -old dandy, the goatee from the inside cabin, passed through his mind, -with vague gestures, muddled dream-words—and he was asleep. -</p> - -<p> -About noon he was called to a meal down in the corridor-like dining-hall -into which the doors opened from the sleeping-cabins; he ate near the -head of a long table, at the other end of which the clerks including the -old man had been drinking with the boisterous captain since ten o'clock. -The food was poor, and he finished rapidly. He felt driven outside to -look at the sky, to see if it showed signs of being brighter above -Venice. -</p> - -<p> -He had kept thinking that this had to occur, since the city had always -received him in full blaze. But sky and sea remained dreary and leaden, -at times a misty rain fell, and here he was reaching by water a -different Venice than he had ever found when approaching on land. He -stood by the forestays, looking in the distance, waiting for land. He -thought of the heavy-hearted, enthusiastic poet for whom the domes and -bell towers of his dreams had once risen out of these waters; he relived -in silence some of that reverence, happiness, and sorrow which had been -turned then into cautious song; and easily susceptible to sensations -already moulded, he asked himself wearily and earnestly whether some new -enchantment and distraction, some belated adventure of the emotions, -might still be held in store for this idle traveller. -</p> - -<p> -Then the flat coast emerged on the right; the sea was alive with fishing -smacks; the bathers' island appeared; it dropped behind to the left, the -steamer slowly entered the narrow port which is named after it; and on -the lagoon, facing gay ramshackle houses, it stopped completely, since -it had to wait for the barque of the health department. -</p> - -<p> -An hour passed before it appeared. He had arrived, and yet he had not; -no one was in any hurry, no one was driven by impatience. The young men -from Pola, patriotically attracted by the military bugle calls which -rang over the water from the vicinity of the public gardens, had come on -deck, and warmed by their Asti, they burst out with cheers for the -drilling <i>bersagliere.</i> But it was repulsive to see what a state the -primped-up old man had been brought to by his comradeship with youth. -His old head was not able to resist its wine like the young and robust: -he was painfully drunk. With glazed eyes, a cigarette between his -trembling fingers, he stood in one place, swaying backwards and forwards -from giddiness, and balancing himself laboriously. Since he would have -fallen at the first step, he did not trust himself from the spot—yet -he showed a deplorable insolence, buttonholed everyone who came near him, -stammered, winked, and tittered, lifted his wrinkled, ornamented index -finger in a stupid attempt at bantering, while he licked the corers of -his mouth with his tongue in the most abominably suggestive manner. -Aschenbach observed him darkly, and a feeling of numbness came over him -again, as though the world were displaying a faint but irresistible -tendency to distort itself into the peculiar and the grotesque: a -feeling which circumstances prevented him from surrendering himself to -completely, for just then the pounding activity of the engines commenced -again, and the ship, resuming a voyage which had been interrupted so -near its completion, passed through the San Marco canal. -</p> - -<p> -So he saw it again, the most remarkable of landing places, that blinding -composition of fantastic buildings which the Republic lays out before -the eyes of approaching seafarers: the soft splendour of the palace, the -Bridge of Sighs, on the bank the columns with lion and saint, the -advancing, showy flank of the enchanted temple, the glimpse through to -the archway, and the huge giant clock. And as he looked on he thought -that to reach Venice by land, on the rail-road, was like entering a -palace from the rear, and that the most unreal of cities should not be -approached except as he was now doing, by ship, over the high seas. -</p> - -<p> -The engine stopped, gondolas pressed in, the gangway was let down, -customs officials climbed on board and discharged their duties -perfunctorily; the disembarking could begin. Aschenbach made it -understood that he wanted a gondola to take him and his luggage to the -dock of those little steamers which ply between the city and the Lido, -since he intended to locate near the sea. His plans were complied with, -his wants were shouted down to the water, where the gondoliers were -wrangling with one another in dialect. He was still hindered from -descending; he was hindered by his trunk, which was being pulled and -dragged with difficulty down the ladder-like steps. So that for some -minutes he was not able to avoid the importunities of the atrocious old -man, whose drunkenness gave him a sinister desire to do the foreigner -parting honours. "We wish you a very agreeable visit," he bleated as he -made an awkward bow. "We leave with pleasant recollections! <i>Au revoir, -excusez</i>, and <i>bon jour</i>, your excellency!" His mouth watered, he -pressed his eyes shut, he licked the corners of his mouth, and the dyed -imperial turned up about his senile lips. "Our compliments," he mumbled, -with two fingertips on his mouth, "our compliments to our sweetheart, -the dearest prettiest sweetheart . . ." And suddenly his false upper -teeth fell down on his lower lip. Aschenbach was able to escape. "To our -sweetheart, our handsome sweetheart," he heard the cooing, hollow, -stuttering voice behind him, while supporting himself against the -handrail, he went down the gang-way. -</p> - -<p> -Who would not have to suppress a fleeting shudder, a vague timidity and -uneasiness, if it were a matter of boarding a Venetian gondola for the -first time or after several years? The strange craft, an entirely -unaltered survival from the times of balladry, with that peculiar blackness -which is found elsewhere only in coffins—it suggests silent, -criminal adventures in the rippling night, it suggests even more -strongly death itself, the bier and the mournful funeral, and the last -silent journey. And has it been observed that the seat of such a barque, -this arm-chair of coffin-black veneer and dull black upholstery, is the -softest, most luxuriant, most lulling seat in the world? Aschenbach -noted this when he had relaxed at the feet of the gondolier, opposite -his luggage, which lay neatly assembled on the prow. The rowers were -still wrangling, harshly, incomprehensibly, with threatening gestures. -But the strange silence of this canal city seemed to soften their -voices, to disembody them, and dissipate them over the water. It was -warm here in the harbour. Touched faintly by the warm breeze of the -sirocco, leaning back against the limber portions of the cushions, the -traveller closed his eyes in the enjoyment of a lassitude which was as -unusual with him as it was sweet. The trip would be short, he thought; -if only it went on for ever! He felt himself glide with a gentle motion -away from the crowd and the confusion of voices. -</p> - -<p> -It became quieter and quieter around him! There was nothing to be heard -but the splashing of the oar, the hollow slapping of the waves against -the prow of the boat as it stood above the water black and bold and -armed with its halberd-like tip, and a third sound, of speaking, of -whispering—the whispering of the gondolier, who was talking to -himself between his teeth, fitfully, in words that were pressed out by the -exertion of his arms. Aschenbach looked up, and was slightly astonished -to discover that the lagoon was widening, and he was headed for the open -sea. This seemed to indicate that he ought not to rest too much, but -should see to it that his wishes were carried out. -</p> - -<p> -"To the steamer dock!" he repeated, turning around completely and -looking into the face of the gondolier who stood behind on a raised -platform and towered up between him and the dun-coloured sky. He was a -man of unpleasant, even brutal, appearance, dressed in sailor blue, with -a yellow sash; a formless straw hat, its weave partially unravelled, was -tilted insolently on his head. The set of his face, the blond curly -moustache beneath a curtly turned-up nose, undoubtedly meant that he was -not Italian. Although of somewhat frail build, so that one would not -have thought him especially well suited to his trade, he handled the oar -with great energy, throwing his entire body into each stroke. -Occasionally, he drew back his lips from the exertion, and disclosed his -white teeth. Wrinkling his reddish brows, he gazed on past his -passenger, as he answered deliberately, almost gruffly: "You are going -to the Lido." Aschenbach replied: "Of course. But I have just taken the -gondola to get me across to San Marco. I want to use the -<i>vaporetto.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"You cannot use the <i>vaporetto</i>, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"And why not?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because the <i>vaporetto</i> will not haul luggage." -</p> - -<p> -That was so; Aschenbach remembered. He was silent. But the fellow's -harsh, presumptuous manner, so unusual towards a foreigner here, seemed -unbearable. He said: "That is my affair. Perhaps I want to put my things -in storage. You will turn back." There was silence. The oar splashed, -the water thudded against the bow. And the talking and whispering began -again. The gondolier was talking to himself between his teeth. -</p> - -<p> -What was to be done? This man was strangely insolent, and had an uncanny -decisiveness; the traveller, alone with him on the water, saw no way of -getting what he wanted. And besides, how softly he could rest, if only -he did not become excited! Hadn't he wanted the trip to go on and on for -ever? It was wisest to let things take their course, and the main thing -was that he was comfortable. The poison of inertia seemed to be issuing -from the seat, from this low, black-upholstered arm-chair, so gently -cradled by the oar strokes of the imperious gondolier behind him. The -notion that he had fallen into the hands of a criminal passed dreamily -across Aschenbach's mind—without the ability to summon his thoughts -to an active defence. The possibility that it was all simply a plan for -cheating him seemed more abhorrent. A feeling of duty or pride, a kind -of recollection that one should prevent such things, gave him the -strength to arouse himself once more. He asked: "What are you asking for -the trip?" -</p> - -<p> -Looking down upon him, the gondolier answered: "You will pay." -</p> - -<p> -It was plain how this should be answered. Aschenbach said mechanically: -"I shall pay nothing, absolutely nothing, if you don't take me where I -want to go." -</p> - -<p> -"You want to go to the Lido." -</p> - -<p> -"But not with you." -</p> - -<p> -"I am rowing you well." -</p> - -<p> -That is so, Aschenbach thought, and relaxed. That is so; you are rowing -me well. Even if you do have designs on my cash, and send me down to -Pluto with a blow of your oar from behind, you will have rowed me well. -</p> - -<p> -But nothing like that happened. They were even joined by others: a -boatload of musical brigands, men and women, who sang to guitar and -mandolin, riding persistently side by side with the gondola and filling -the silence over the water with their covetous foreign poetry. A hat was -held out, and Aschenbach threw in money. Then they stopped singing, and -rowed away. And again the muttering of the gondolier could be heard as -he talked fitfully and jerkily to himself. -</p> - -<p> -So they arrived, tossed in the wake of a steamer plying towards the -city. Two municipal officers, their hands behind their backs, their -faces turned in the direction of the lagoon, were walking back and forth -on the bank. Aschenbach left the gondola at the dock, supported by that -old man who is stationed with his grappling hook at each one of Venice's -landing-places. And since he had no small money, he crossed over to the -hotel by the steamer wharf to get change and pay the rower what was due -him. He got what he wanted in the lobby, he returned and found his -travelling bags in a cart on the dock, and gondola and gondolier had -vanished. -</p> - -<p> -"He got out in a hurry," said the old man with the grappling hook. "A -bad man, a man without a license, sir. He is the only gondolier who -doesn't have a license. The others telephoned here." -</p> - -<p> -Aschenbach shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"The gentleman rode for nothing," the old man said, and held out his -hat. Aschenbach tossed in a coin. He gave instructions to have his -luggage taken to the beach hotel, and followed the cart through the -avenue, the white-blossomed avenue which, lined on both sides with -taverns, shops, and boarding houses, runs across the island to the -shore. -</p> - -<p> -He entered the spacious hotel from the rear, by the terraced garden, and -passed through the vestibule and the lobby until he reached the desk. -Since he had been announced, he was received with obliging promptness. A -manager, a small frail flatteringly polite man with a black moustache -and a French style frock coat, accompanied him to the third floor in the -lift, and showed him his room, an agreeable place furnished in cherry -wood. It was decorated with strong-smelling flowers, and its high -windows afforded a view out across the open sea. He stepped up to one of -them after the employee had left; and while his luggage was being -brought up and placed in the room behind him, he looked down on the -beach (it was comparatively deserted in the afternoon) and on the -sunless ocean which was at flood tide and was sending long low waves -against the bank in a calm regular rhythm. -</p> - -<p> -The experiences of a man who lives alone and in silence are both vaguer -and more penetrating than those of people in society; his thoughts are -heavier, more odd, and touched always with melancholy. Images and -observations which could easily be disposed of by a glance, a smile, an -exchange of opinion, will occupy him unbearably, sink deep into the -silence, become full of meaning, become life, adventure, emotion. -Loneliness ripens the eccentric, the daringly and estrangingly -beautiful, the poetic. But loneliness also ripens the perverse, the -disproportionate, the absurd, and the illicit.—So, the things he had -met with on the trip, the ugly old fop with his twaddle about -sweethearts, the lawbreaking gondolier who was cheated of his pay, still -left the traveller uneasy. Without really providing any resistance to -the mind, without offering any solid stuff to think over, they were -nevertheless profoundly strange, as it seemed to him, and disturbing -precisely because of this contradiction. In the meanwhile, he greeted -the sea with his eyes, and felt pleasure at the knowledge that Venice -was so conveniently near. Finally he turned away, bathed his face, left -orders to the chambermaid for a few things he still needed done to make -his comfort complete, and let himself be taken to the ground floor by -the green-uniformed Swiss who operated the lift. -</p> - -<p> -He took his tea on the terrace facing the ocean, then descended and -followed the boardwalk for quite a way in the direction of the Hotel -Excelsior. When he returned it seemed time to dress for dinner. He did -this with his usual care and slowness, since he was accustomed to -working over his toilette. And yet he came down a little early to the -lobby where he found a great many of the hotel guests assembled, mixing -distantly and with a show of mutual indifference to one another, but all -waiting for meal time. He took a paper from the table, dropped into a -leather chair, and observed the company; they differed agreeably from -the guests where he had first stopped. -</p> - -<p> -A wide and tolerantly inclusive horizon was spread out before him. -Sounds of all the principal languages formed a subdued murmur. The -accepted evening dress, a uniform of good manners, brought all human -varieties into a fitting unity. There were Americans with their long wry -features, large Russian families, English ladies, German children with -French nurses. The Slavic element seemed to predominate. Polish was -being spoken nearby. -</p> - -<p> -It was a group of children gathered around a little wicker table, under -the protection of a teacher or governess: three young girls, apparently -fifteen to seventeen, and a long-haired boy about fourteen years old. -With astonishment Aschenbach noted that the boy was absolutely -beautiful. His face, pale and reserved, framed with honey-coloured hair, -the straight sloping nose, the lovely mouth, the expression of sweet and -godlike seriousness, recalled Greek sculpture of the noblest period; -and the complete purity of the forms was accompanied by such a rare -personal charm that, as he watched, he felt that he had never met with -anything equally felicitous in nature or the plastic arts. He was -further struck by the obviously intentional contrast with the principles -of upbringing which showed in the sisters' attire and bearing. The three -girls, the eldest of whom could be considered grown up, were dressed -with a chasteness and severity bordering on disfigurement. Uniformly -cloister-like costumes, of medium length, slate-coloured, sober, and -deliberately unbecoming in cut, with white turned-down collars as the -only relief, suppressed every possible appeal of shapeliness. Their -hair, brushed down flat and tight against the head, gave their faces a -nunlike emptiness and lack of character. Surely this was a mother's -influence, and it had not even occurred to her to apply the pedagogical -strictness to the boy which she seemed to find necessary for her girls. -It was clear that in his existence the first factors were gentleness and -tenderness. The shears had been resolutely kept from his beautiful hair; -like a Prince Charming's, it fell in curls over his forehead, his ears, -and still deeper, across his neck. The English sailor suit, with its -braids, stitchings, and embroideries, its puffy sleeves narrowing at the -ends and fitting snugly about the fine wrists of his still childish but -slender hands, gave the delicate figure something rich and luxurious. He -was sitting, half profile to the observer, one foot in its black -patent-leather shoe placed before the other, an elbow resting on the arm -of his wicker chair, a cheek pressed against his fist, in a position of -negligent good manners, entirely free of the almost subservient -stiffness to which his sisters seemed accustomed. Did he have some -illness? For his skin stood out as white as ivory against the golden -darkness of the surrounding curls. Or was he simply a pampered favourite -child, made this way by a doting and moody love? Aschenbach inclined to -believe the latter. Almost every artist is born with a rich and -treacherous tendency to recognize injustices which have created beauty, -and to meet aristocratic distinction with sympathy and reverence. -</p> - -<p> -A waiter passed through and announced in English that the meal was -ready. Gradually the guests disappeared through the glass door into the -dining hall. Stragglers crossed, coming from the entrance, or the lifts. -Inside, they had already begun serving, but the young Poles were still -waiting around the little wicker table; and Aschenbach, comfortably -propped in his deep chair, and with this beauty before his eyes, stayed -with them. -</p> - -<p> -The governess, a small corpulent middle-class woman with a red face, -finally gave the sign to rise. With lifted brows, she pushed back her -chair and bowed, as a large woman dressed in grey and richly jewelled -with pearls entered the lobby. This woman was advancing with coolness -and precision; her lightly powdered hair and the lines of her dress were -arranged with the simplicity which always signifies taste in those -quarters where devoutness is taken as one element of dignity. She might -have been the wife of some high German official. Except that her -jewellery added something fantastically lavish to her appearance; -indeed, it was almost priceless, and consisted of ear pendants and a -very long triple chain of softly glowing pearls, as large as cherries. -</p> - -<p> -The children had risen promptly. They bent over to kiss the hand of -their mother who, with a distant smile on her well preserved though -somewhat tired and peaked features, looked over their heads and directed -a few words to the governess in French. Then she walked to the glass -door. The children followed her: the girls in the order of their age, -after them the governess, the boy last. For some reason or other he -turned around before crossing the sill, and since no one else was in the -lobby his strange dusky eyes met those of Aschenbach who, his newspaper -on his knees, lost in thought, was gazing after the group. -</p> - -<p> -What he saw had not been unusual in the slightest detail. They had not -preceded the mother to the table; they had waited, greeted her with -respect, and observed the customary forms on entering the room. But it -had taken place so pointedly, with such an accent of training, duty, and -self-respect, that Aschenbach felt peculiarly touched by it all. He -delayed for a few moments, then he too crossed into the dining-room, and -was assigned to his table, which, as he noted with a brief touch of -regret, was very far removed from that of the Polish family. -</p> - -<p> -Weary, and yet intellectually active, he entertained himself during the -lengthy meal with abstract, or even transcendental things; he thought -over the secret union which the lawful must enter upon with the -individual for human beauty to result, from this he passed into general -problems of form and art, and at the end he found that his thoughts and -discoveries were like the seemingly felicitous promptings of a dream -which, when the mind is sobered, are seen to be completely empty and -unfit. After the meal, smoking, sitting, taking an occasional turn in -the park with its smell of nightfall, he went to bed early and spent the -night in a sleep deep and unbroken, but often enlivened with the -apparitions of dreams. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>III (continued)</h4> - -<p> -The weather did not improve any the following day. A land breeze was -blowing. Under a cloudy ashen sky, the sea lay in dull peacefulness; it -seemed shrivelled up, with a close dreary horizon, and it had retreated -from the beach, baring the long ribs of several sandbanks. As Aschenbach -opened his window he thought that he could detect the foul smell of the -lagoon. -</p> - -<p> -He felt depressed. He thought already of leaving. Once, years ago, after -several weeks of spring here, this same weather had afflicted him, and -impaired his health so seriously that he had to abandon Venice like a -fugitive. Was not this old feverish unrest again setting in, the -pressure in the temples, the heaviness of the eyelids? It would be -annoying to change his residence still another time; but if the wind did -not turn, he could not stay here. To be safe, he did not unpack -completely. He breakfasted at nine in the buffet-room provided for this -purpose between the lobby and the dining-room. -</p> - -<p> -That formal silence reigned here which is the ambition of large hotels. -The waiters who were serving walked about on soft soles. Nothing was -audible but the tinkling of the tea-things, a word half-whispered. In -one corner, obliquely across from the door, and two tables removed from -his own, Aschenbach observed the Polish girls with their governess. -Erect and red-eyed, their ash-blond hair freshly smoothed down, dressed -in stiff blue linen with little white cuffs and turned-down -collars—they were sitting there, handing around a glass of -marmalade. They had almost finished their breakfast. The boy was missing. -</p> - -<p> -Aschenbach smiled. "Well, little Phaeacian!" he thought. "You seem to be -enjoying the pleasant privilege of having your sleep out." And suddenly -exhilarated, he recited to himself the line: "A frequent change of -dress; warm baths, and rest." -</p> - -<p> -He breakfasted without haste. From the porter, who entered the hall -holding his braided cap in his hand, he received some forwarded mail; -and while he smoked a cigarette he opened a few letters. In this way it -happened that he was present at the entrance of the late sleeper who was -being waited for over yonder. -</p> - -<p> -He came through the glass door and crossed the room in silence to his -sisters' table. His approach—the way he held the upper part of his -body, and bent his knees, the movement of his white-shod feet—had an -extraordinary charm; he walked very lightly, at once timid and proud, -and this became still more lovely through the childish embarrassment -with which, twice as he proceeded, he turned his face towards the centre -of the room, raising and lowering his eyes. Smiling, with something -half-muttered in his soft vague tongue, he took his place; and now, as -he turned his full profile to the observer, Aschenbach was again -astonished, terrified even, by the really godlike beauty of this human -child. To-day the boy was wearing a light blouse of blue and white -striped cotton goods, with a red silk tie in front, and closed at the -neck by a plain white high collar. This collar lacked the -distinctiveness of the blouse, but above it the flowering head was -poised with an incomparable seductiveness—the head of an Eros, in -blended yellows of Parian marble, with fine serious brows, the temples -and ears covered softly by the abrupt encroachment of his curls. -</p> - -<p> -"Good, good!" Aschenbach thought, with that deliberate expert appraisal -which artists sometimes employ as a subterfuge when they have been -carried away with delight before a masterwork. And he thought further: -"Really, if the sea and the beach weren't waiting for me, I should stay -here as long as you stayed!" But he went then, passed through the lobby -under the inspection of the servants, down the wide terrace, and -straight across the boardwalk to the section of the beach reserved for -the hotel guests. The barefoot old man in dungarees and straw hat who -was functioning here as bathing master assigned him to the bath house he -had rented; a table and a seat were placed on the sandy board platform, -and he made himself comfortable in the lounge chair which he had drawn -closer to the sea, out into the waxen yellow sand. -</p> - -<p> -More than ever before he was entertained and amused by the sights on the -beach, this spectacle of carefree, civilized people getting sensuous -enjoyment at the very edge of the elements. The grey flat sea was -already alive with wading children, swimmers, a motley of figures lying -on the sandbanks with arms bent behind their heads. Others were rowing -about in little red and blue striped boats without keels; they were -continually upsetting, amid laughter. Before the long stretches of -bathing houses, where people were sitting on the platforms as though on -small verandahs, there was a play of movement against the line of rest -and inertness behind—visits and chatter, fastidious morning elegance -alongside the nakedness which, boldly at ease, was enjoying the freedom -which the place afforded. Further in front, on the damp firm sand, -people were parading about in white bathing cloaks, in ample, -brilliantly coloured wrappers. An elaborate sand pile to the right, -erected by children, had flags in the colours of all nations planted -around it. Venders of shells, cakes, and fruit spread out their wares, -kneeling. To the left, before one of the bathing houses which stood at -right angles to the others and to the sea, a Russian family was -encamped: men with beards and large teeth, slow delicate women, a Baltic -girl sitting by an easel and painting the sea amidst exclamations of -despair, two ugly good-natured children, an old maid-servant who wore a -kerchief on her head and had the alert scraping manners of a slave. -Delighted and appreciative, they were living there, patiently calling -the names of the two rowdy disobedient children, using their scanty -Italian to joke with the humorous old man from whom they were buying -candy, kissing one another on the cheek, and not in the least concerned -with any one who might be observing their community. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I shall stay," Aschenbach thought. "Where would things be better?" -And his hands folded in his lap, he let his eyes lose themselves in the -expanses of the sea, his gaze gliding, swimming, and failing in the -monotone mist of the wilderness of space. He loved the ocean for -deep-seated reasons: because of that yearning for rest, when the -hard-pressed artist hungers to shut out the exacting multiplicities of -experience and hide himself on the breast of the simple, the vast; and -because of a forbidden hankering—seductive, by virtue of its being -directly opposed to his obligations—after the incommunicable, the -incommensurate, the eternal, the non-existent. To be at rest in the face -of perfection is the hunger of everyone who is aiming at excellence; and -what is the non-existent but a form of perfection? But now, just as his -dreams were so far out in vacancy, suddenly the horizontal fringe of the -sea was broken by a human figure; and as he brought his eyes back from -the unbounded, and focussed them, it was the lovely boy who was there, -coming from the left and passing him on the sand. He was barefooted, -ready for wading, his slender legs exposed above the knees; he walked -slowly, but as lightly and proudly as though it were the customary thing -for him to move about without shoes; and he was looking around him -towards the line of bathing houses opposite. But as soon as he had -noticed the Russian family, occupied with their own harmony and -contentment, a cloud of scorn and detestation passed over his face. His -brow darkened, his mouth was compressed, he gave his lips an embittered -twist to one side so that the cheek was distorted, and the forehead -became so heavily furrowed that the eyes seemed sunken beneath its -pressure: malicious and glowering, they spoke the language of hate. He -looked down, looked back once more threateningly, then with his shoulder -made an abrupt gesture of disdain and dismissal, and left the enemy -behind him. -</p> - -<p> -A kind of pudency or confusion, something like respect and shyness, -caused Aschenbach to turn away as though he had seen nothing. For the -earnest-minded who have been casual observers of some passion, struggle -against making use, even to themselves, of what they have seen. But he -was both cheered and unstrung—which is to say, he was happy. This -childish fanaticism, directed against the most good-natured possible -aspect of life—it brought the divinely arbitrary into human -relationships; it made a delightful natural picture which had appealed -only to the eye now seem worthy of a deeper sympathy; and it gave the -figure of this half-grown boy, who had already been important enough by -his sheer beauty, something to offset him still further, and to make one -take him more seriously than his years justified. Still looking away, -Aschenbach could hear the boy's voice, the shrill, somewhat weak voice -with which, in the distance now, he was trying to call hello to his -playfellows busied around the sand pile. They answered him, shouting -back his name, or some affectionate nickname; and Aschenbach listened -with a certain curiosity, without being able to catch anything more -definite than two melodic syllables like "Adgio," or still more -frequently "Adgiu," with a ringing u-sound prolonged at the end. He was -pleased with the resonance of this; he found it adequate to the subject. -He repeated it silently and, satisfied, turned to his letters and -manuscripts. -</p> - -<p> -His small portable writing-desk on his knees he began writing with his -fountain pen an answer to this or that bit of correspondence. But after -the first fifteen minutes he found it a pity to abandon the -situation—the most enjoyable he could think of—in this manner -and waste it in activities which did not interest him. He tossed the -writing materials to one side, and he faced the ocean again; soon -afterwards, diverted by the childish voices around the sand heap, he -revolved his head comfortably along the back of the chair towards the -right, to discover where that excellent little Adgio might be and what he -was doing. -</p> - -<p> -He was found at a glance; the red tie on his breast was not to be -overlooked. Busied with the others in laying an old plank across the -damp moat of the sand castle, he was nodding, and shouting instructions -for this work. There were about ten companions with him, boys and girls -of his age, and a few younger ones who were chattering with one another -in Polish, French, and in several Balkan tongues. But it was his name -which rang out most often. He was openly in demand, sought after, -admired. One boy especially, like him a Pole, a stocky fellow who was -called something like "Jaschu," with sleek black hair and a belted linen -coat, seemed to be his closest vassal and friend. When the work on the -sand structure was finished for the time being, they walked aim in arm -along the beach, and the boy who was called "Jaschu" kissed the beauty. -</p> - -<p> -Aschenbach was half minded to raise a warning finger. "I advise you, -Cristobulus," he thought, smiling, "to travel for a year! For you need -that much time at least to get over it." And then he breakfasted on -large ripe strawberries which he got from a peddler. It had become very -warm, although the sun could no longer penetrate the blanket of mist in -the sky. Laziness clogged his brain, even while his senses delighted in -the numbing, drugging distractions of the ocean's stillness. To guess, -to puzzle out just what name it was that sounded something like "Adgio," -seemed to the sober man an appropriate ambition, a thoroughly -comprehensive pursuit. And with the aid of a few scrappy recollections -of Polish he decided that they must mean Tadzio, the shortened form of -Tadeusz, and sounding like Tadziu when it is called. -</p> - -<p> -Tadzio was bathing. Aschenbach, who had lost sight of him, spied his -head and the arm with which he was propelling himself, far out in the -water; for the sea must have been smooth for a long distance out. But -already people seemed worried about him; women's voices were calling -after him from the bathing houses, uttering this name again and again. -It almost dominated the beach like a battle-cry, and with its soft -consonants, its long drawn u-note at the end, it had something at once -sweet and wild about it: "Tadziu! Tadziu!" He turned back; beating the -resistent water into a foam with his legs he hurried, his head bent down -over the waves. And to see how this living figure, graceful and -clean-cut in its advance, with dripping curls, and lovely as some frail -god, came up out of the depths of sky and sea, rose and separated from the -elements—this spectacle aroused a sense of myth, it was like some -poet's recovery of time at its beginning, of the origin of forms and the -birth of gods. Aschenbach listened with closed eyes to this song ringing -within him, and he thought again that it was pleasant here, and that he -would like to remain. -</p> - -<p> -Later Tadzio was resting from his bath; he lay in the sand, wrapped in -his white robe, which was drawn under the right shoulder, his head -supported on his bare arm. And even when Aschenbach was not observing -him, but was reading a few pages in his book, he hardly ever forgot that -this boy was lying there and that it would cost him only a slight turn -of his head to the right to behold the mystery. It seemed that he was -sitting here just to keep watch over his repose—busied with his own -concerns, and yet constantly aware of this noble picture at his right, -not far in the distance. And he was stirred by a paternal affection, the -profound leaning which those who have devoted their thoughts to the -creation of beauty feel towards those who possess beauty itself. -</p> - -<p> -A little past noon he left the beach, returned to the hotel, and was -taken up to his room. He stayed there for some time in front of the -mirror, looking at his grey hair, his tired sharp features. At this -moment he thought of his reputation, and of the fact that he was often -recognized on the streets and observed with respect, thanks to the sure -aim and the appealing finish of his words. He called up all the exterior -successes of his talent which he could think of, remembering also his -elevation to the knighthood. Then he went down to the dining-hall for -lunch, and ate at his little table. As he was riding up in the lift, -after the meal was ended, a group of young people just coming from -breakfast pressed into the swaying cage after him, and Tadzio entered -too. He stood quite near to Aschenbach, for the first time so near that -Aschenbach could see him, not with the aloofness of a picture, but in -minute detail, in all his human particularities. The boy was addressed -by someone or other, and as he was answering with an indescribably -agreeable smile he stepped out again, on the second floor, walking -backwards, and with his eyes lowered. "Beauty makes modest," Aschenbach -thought, and he tried insistently to explain why this was so. But he had -noticed that Tadzio's teeth were not all they should be; they were -somewhat jagged and pale. The enamel did not look healthy; it had a -peculiar brittleness and transparency, as is often the case with -anaemics. "He is very frail, he is sickly," Aschenbach thought. "In all -probability he will not grow old." And he refused to reckon with the -feeling of gratification or reassurance which accompanied this notion. -</p> - -<p> -He spent two hours in his room, and in the afternoon he rode in the -<i>vaporetto</i> across the foul-smelling lagoon to Venice. He got off at -San Marco, took tea on the Piazza, and then, in accord with his schedule -for the day, he went for a walk through the streets. Yet it was this walk -which produced a complete reversal in his attitudes and his plans. -</p> - -<p> -An offensive sultriness lay over the streets. The air was so heavy that -the smells pouring out of homes, stores, and eating houses became mixed -with oil, vapours, clouds of perfume, and still other odours—and -these would not blow away, but hung in layers. Cigarette smoke remained -suspended, disappearing very slowly. The crush of people along the -narrow streets irritated rather than entertained the walker. The farther -he went, the more he was depressed by the repulsive condition resulting -from the combination of sea air and sirocco, which was at the same time -both stimulating and enervating. He broke into an uncomfortable sweat. -His eyes failed him, his chest became tight, he had a fever, the blood -was pounding in his head. He fled from the crowded business streets -across a bridge into the walks of the poor. On a quiet square, one of -those forgotten and enchanting places which lie in the interior of -Venice, he rested at the brink of a well, dried his forehead, and -realized that he would have to leave here. -</p> - -<p> -For the second and last time it had been demonstrated that this city in -this kind of weather was decidedly unhealthy for him. It seemed foolish -to attempt a stubborn resistance, while the prospects for a change of -wind were completely uncertain. A quick decision was called for. It was -not possible to go home this soon. Neither summer nor winter quarters -were prepared to receive him. But this was not the only place where -there were sea and beach; and elsewhere these could be found without the -lagoon and its malarial mists. He remembered a little watering place not -far from Trieste which had been praised to him. Why not there? And -without delay, so that this new change of location would still have time -to do him some good. He pronounced this as good as settled, and stood -up. At the next gondola station he took a boat back to San Marco, and -was led through the dreary labyrinth of canals, under fancy marble -balconies flanked with lions, around the corners of smooth walls, past -the sorrowing façades of palaces which mirrored large dilapidated -business-signs in the pulsing water. He had trouble arriving there, for -the gondolier, who was in league with lace-makers and glass-blowers, was -always trying to land him for inspections and purchases; and just as the -bizarre trip through Venice would begin to cast its spell, the greedy -business sense of the sunken Queen did all it could to destroy the -illusion. -</p> - -<p> -When he had returned to the hotel he announced at the office before -dinner that unforeseen developments necessitated his departure the -following morning. He was assured of their regrets. He settled his -accounts. He dined, and spent the warm evening reading the newspapers in -a rocking-chair on the rear terrace. Before going to bed he got his -luggage all ready for departure. -</p> - -<p> -He did not sleep so well as he might, since the impending break-up made -him restless. When he opened the window in the morning the sky was as -overcast as ever, but the air seemed fresher, and he was already -beginning to repent. Hadn't his decision been somewhat hasty and -uncalled for, the result of a passing diffidence and indisposition? If -he had delayed a little, if, instead of surrendering so easily, he had -made some attempt to adjust himself to the air of Venice or to wait for -an improvement in the weather, he would not be so rushed and -inconvenienced, but could anticipate another forenoon on the beach like -yesterday's. Too late. Now he would have to go on wanting what he had -wanted yesterday. He dressed, and at about eight o'clock rode down to -the ground floor for breakfast. -</p> - -<p> -As he entered, the buffet-room was still empty of guests. A few came in -while he sat waiting for his order. With his tea cup to his lips, he saw -the Polish girls and their governess appear: rigid, with morning -freshness, their eyes still red, they walked across to their table in -the corner by the window. Immediately afterwards, the porter approached -him, cap in hand, and warned him that it was time to go. The automobile -is ready to take him and the other passengers to the Hotel Excelsior, -and from here the motorboat will bring the ladies and gentlemen -to the station through the company's private canal. Time is -pressing.—Aschenbach found that it was doing nothing of the sort. It -was still over an hour before his train left. He was irritated by this -hotel custom of hustling departing guests out of the house, and -indicated to the porter that he wished to finish his breakfast in peace. -The man retired hesitatingly, to appear again five minutes later. It is -impossible for the car to wait any longer. Then he would take a cab, and -carry his trunk with him, Aschenbach replied in anger. He would use the -public steamboat at the proper time, and he requested that it be left to -him personally to worry about his departure. The employee bowed himself -away. Pleased with the way he had warded off these importunate warnings, -Aschenbach finished his meal at leisure; in fact, he even let the waiter -bring him a newspaper. The time had become quite short when he finally -arose. It was fitting that at the same moment Tadzio should come through -the glass door. -</p> - -<p> -On the way to his table he walked in the opposite direction to -Aschenbach, lowering his eyes modestly before the man with the grey hair -and high forehead, only to raise them again, in his delicious manner, -soft and full upon him—and he had passed. "Good-bye, Tadzio!" -Aschenbach thought. "I did not see much of you." He did what was unusual -with him, really formed the words on his lips and spoke them to himself; -then he added, "God bless you!"—After this he left, distributed -tips, was ushered out by the small gentle manager in the French frock -coat, and made off from the hotel on foot, as he had come, going along the -white blossoming avenue which crossed the island to the steamer bridge, -accompanied by the house servant carrying his hand luggage. He arrived, -took his place—and then followed a painful journey through all the -depths of regret. -</p> - -<p> -It was the familiar trip across the lagoon, past San Marco, up the Grand -Canal. Aschenbach sat on the circular bench at the bow, his arm -supported against the railing, shading his eyes with his hand. The -public gardens were left behind, the Piazzetta opened up once more in -princely splendour and was gone, then came the great flock of palaces, -and as the channel made a turn the magnificently slung marble arch of -the Rialto came into view. The traveller was watching; his emotions were -in conflict. The atmosphere of the city, this slightly foul smell of sea -and swamp which he had been so anxious to avoid—he breathed it now in -deep, exquisitely painful draughts. Was it possible that he had not -known, had not considered, just how much he was attached to all this? -What had been a partial misgiving this morning, a faint doubt as to the -advisability of his move, now became a distress, a positive misery, a -spiritual hunger, and so bitter that it frequently brought tears to his -eyes, while he told himself that he could not possibly have foreseen it. -Hardest of all to bear, at times completely insufferable, was the -thought that he would never see Venice again, that this was a -leave-taking for ever. Since it had been shown for the second time that -the city affected his health, since he was compelled for the second time -to get away in all haste, from now on he would have to consider it a -place impossible and forbidden to him, a place which he was not equal -to, and which it would be foolish for him to visit again. Yes, he felt -that if he left now, he would be shamefaced and defiant enough never to -see again the beloved city which had twice caused him a physical -break-down. And of a sudden this struggle between his desires and his -physical strength seemed to the aging man so grave and important, his -physical defeat seemed so dishonourable, so much a challenge to hold out -at any cost, that he could not understand the ready submissiveness of -the day before, when he had decided to give in without attempting any -serious resistance. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the steamboat was nearing the station; pain and perplexity -increased, he became distracted. In his affliction, he felt that it was -impossible to leave, and just as impossible to turn back. The conflict -was intense as he entered the station. It was very late; there was not a -moment to lose if he was to catch the train. He wanted to, and he did -not want to. But time was pressing; it drove him on. He hurried to get -his ticket, and looked about in the tumult of the hall for the officer -on duty here from the hotel. The man appeared and announced that the -large trunk had been transferred. Transferred already? Yes, thank -you—to Como. To Como? And in the midst of hasty running back and -forth, angry questions and confused answers, it came to light that the -trunk had already been sent with other foreign baggage from the express -office of the Hotel Excelsior in a completely wrong direction. -</p> - -<p> -Aschenbach had difficulty in preserving the expression which was -required under these circumstances. He was almost convulsed with an -adventurous delight, an unbelievable hilarity. The employee rushed off -to see if it were still possible to stop the trunk, and as was to be -expected he returned with nothing accomplished. Aschenbach declared that -he did not want to travel without his trunk, but had decided to go back -and wait at the beach hotel for its return. Was the company's motorboat -still at the station? The man assured him that it was lying at the door. -With Italian volubility he persuaded the clerk at the ticket window to -redeem the cancelled ticket, he swore that they would act speedily, that -no time or money would be spared in recovering the trunk promptly, -and—so the strange thing happened that, twenty minutes after his -arrival at the station, the traveller found himself again on the Grand -Canal, returning to the Lido. -</p> - -<p> -Here was an adventure, wonderful, abashing, and comically dreamlike -beyond belief: places which he had just bid farewell to for ever in the -most abject misery—yet he had been turned and driven back by fate, -and was seeing them again in the same hour! The spray from the bow, -washing between gondolas and steamers with an absurd agility, shot the -speedy little craft ahead to its goal, while the one passenger was -hiding the nervousness and ebullience of a truant boy under the mask of -resigned anger. From time to time he shook with laughter at this mishap -which, as he told himself, could not have turned out better for a child -of destiny. There were explanations to be given, expressions of -astonishment to be faced—and then, he told himself, everything -would be all right; then a misfortune would be avoided, a grave error -rectified. And all that he had thought he was leaving behind him would -be open to him again, there at his disposal. . . . And to cap it all, -was the rapidity of the ride deceiving him, or was the wind really -coming from the sea? -</p> - -<p> -The waves beat against the walls of the narrow canal which runs through -the island to the Hotel Excelsior. An automobile omnibus was awaiting -his return there, and took him above the rippling sea straight to the -beach hotel. The little manager with moustache and long-tailed frock -coat came down the stairs to meet him. -</p> - -<p> -He ingratiatingly regretted the episode, spoke of it as highly painful -to him and the establishment, but firmly approved of Aschenbach's -decision to wait here for the baggage. Of course his room had been given -up, but there was another one, just as good, which he could occupy -immediately. "<i>Pas de chance, Monsieur</i>," the Swiss elevator boy -smiled as they were ascending. And so the fugitive was established again, -in a room almost identical to the other in its location and furnishings. -</p> - -<p> -Tired out by the confusion of this strange forenoon, he distributed the -contents of his hand-bag about the room and dropped into an arm-chair by -the open window. The sea had become a pale green, the air seemed thinner -and purer; the beach, with its cabins and boats, seemed to have colour, -although the sky was still grey. Aschenbach looked out, his hands folded -in his lap; he was content to be back, but shook his head disapprovingly -at his irresolution, his failure to know his own mind. He sat here for -the better part of an hour, resting and dreaming vaguely. About noon he -saw Tadzio in a striped linen suit with a red tie, coming back from the -sea across the private beach and along the boardwalk to the hotel. -Aschenbach recognized him from this altitude before he had actually set -eyes on him; he was about to think some such words as "Well, Tadzio, -there you are again!" but at the same moment he felt this careless -greeting go dumb before the truth in his heart. He felt the exhilaration -of his blood, a conflict of pain and pleasure, and he realized that it -was Tadzio who had made it so difficult for him to leave. -</p> - -<p> -He sat very still, entirely unobserved from this height, and looked -within himself. His features were alert, his eyebrows raised, and an -attentive, keenly inquisitive smile distended his mouth. Then he raised -his head; lifted both hands, which had hung relaxed over the arms of the -chair, and in a slow twisting movement turned the palms downward—as -though to suggest an opening and spreading outward of his arms. It was a -spontaneous act of welcome, of calm acceptance. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="IV">IV</a></h4> - -<p> -Day after day now the naked god with the hot cheeks drove his -fire-breathing quadriga across the expanses of the sky, and his yellow -locks fluttered in the assault of the east wind. A white silk sheen -stretched over the slowly simmering Ponto. The sand glowed. Beneath the -quaking silver blue of the ether rust-coloured canvasses were spread in -front of the beach bathing houses, and the afternoons were spent in the -sharply demarcated spots of shade which they cast. But it was also -delightful in the evening, when the vegetation in the park had the smell -of balsam, and the stars were working through their courses above, and -the soft persistent murmur of the sea came up enchantingly through the -night. Such evenings contained the cheering promise that more sunny days -of casual idleness would follow, dotted with countless closely -interspersed possibilities of well-timed accidents. -</p> - -<p> -The guest who was detained here by such an accommodating mishap did not -consider the return of his property as sufficient grounds for another -departure. He suffered some inconvenience for two days, and had to -appear for meals in the large dining-room in his travelling clothes. -When the strayed luggage was finally deposited in his room again, he -unpacked completely and filled the closet and drawers with his -belongings; he had decided to remain here indefinitely, content now that -he could pass the hours on the beach in a silk suit and appear for -dinner at his little table again in appropriate evening dress. -</p> - -<p> -The comfortable rhythm of this life had already cast its spell over him; -he was soon enticed by the ease, the mild splendour, of his programme. -Indeed, what a place to be in, when the usual allurement of living in -watering places on southern shores was coupled with the immediate -nearness of the most wonderful of all cities! Aschenbach was not a lover -of pleasure. Whenever that was some call for him to take a holiday, to -indulge himself, to have a good time—and this was especially true at -an earlier age—restlessness and repugnance soon drove him back to his -rigorous toil, the faithful sober efforts of his daily routine. Except -that this place was bewitching him, relaxing his will, making him happy. -In the mornings, under the shelter of his bathing house, letting his -eyes roam dreamily in the blue of the southern sea; or on a warm night -as he leaned back against the cushions of the gondola carrying him under -the broad starry sky home to the Lido from the Piazza di San Marco after -long hours of idleness—and the brilliant lights, the melting notes of -the serenade were being left behind—he often recalled his place in -the mountains, the scene of his battles in the summer, where the clouds -blew low across his garden, and terrifying storms put out the lamps at -night, and the crows which he fed were swinging in the tops of the pine -trees. Then everything seemed just right to him, as though he were lifted -into the Elysian fields, on the borders of the earth, where man enjoys the -easiest life, where there is no snow or winter, nor storms and pouring -rains, but where Oceanus continually sends forth gentle cooling breezes, -and the days pass in a blessed inactivity, without work, without effort, -devoted wholly to the sun and to the feast days of the sun. -</p> - -<p> -Aschenbach saw the boy Tadzio frequently, almost constantly. Owing to -the limited range of territory and the regularity of their lives, the -beauty was near him at short intervals throughout the day. He saw him, -met him, everywhere: in the lower rooms of the hotel, on the cooling -water trips to the city and back, in the arcades of the square, and at -times when he was especially lucky ran across him on the streets. But -principally, and with the most gratifying regularity, the forenoon on -the beach allowed him to admire and study this rare spectacle at his -leisure. Yes, it was this guaranty of happiness, this daily recurrence -of good fortune, which made his stay here so precious, and gave him such -pleasure in the constant procession of sunny days. -</p> - -<p> -He was up as early as he used to be when under the driving pressure of -work, and was on the beach before most people, when the sun was still -mild and the sea lay blinding white in the dreaminess of morning. He -spoke amiably to the guard of the private beach, and also spoke -familiarly to the barefoot, white-bearded old man who had prepared his -place for him, stretching the brown canopy and bringing the furniture of -the cabin out on the platform. Then he took his seat. There would now be -three or four hours in which the sun mounted and gained terrific -strength, the sea a deeper and deeper blue, and he might look at Tadzio. -</p> - -<p> -He saw him approaching from the left, along the edge of the sea; he saw -him as he stepped out backwards from among the cabins; or he would -suddenly find, with a shock of pleasure, that he had missed his coming, -that he was already here in the blue and white bathing suit which was -his only garment now while on the beach, that he had already commenced -his usual activities in the sun and the sand—a pleasantly trifling, -idle, and unstable manner of living, a mixture of rest and play. Tadzio -would saunter about, wade, dig, catch things, lie down, go for a swim, -all the while being kept under surveillance by the women on the platform -who made his name ring out in their falsetto voices: "Tadziu! Tadziu!" -Then he would come running to them with a look of eagerness, to tell -them what he had seen, what he had experienced, or to show them what he -had found or caught: mussels, sea-horses, jelly-fish, and crabs that ran -sideways. Aschenbach did not understand a word he said, and though it -might have been the most ordinary thing in the world, it was a vague -harmony in his ear. So the foreignness of the boy's speech turned it -into music, a wanton sun poured its prodigal splendour down over him, -and his figure was always set off against the background of an intense -sea-blue. -</p> - -<p> -This piquant body was so freely exhibited that his eyes soon knew every -line and posture. He was continually rediscovering with new pleasure all -this familiar beauty, and his astonishment at its delicate appeal to his -senses was unending. The boy was called to greet a guest who was paying -his respects to the ladies at the bathing house. He came running, -running wet perhaps out of the water, tossed back his curls, and as he -held out his hand, resting on one leg and raising his other foot on the -toes, the set of his body was delightful; it had a charming expectancy -about it, a well-meaning shyness, a winsomeness which showed his -aristocratic training. . . . He lay stretched full length, his bath -towel slung across his shoulders, his delicately chiselled arm supported -in the sand, his chin in his palm; the boy called Jaschu was squatting -near him and making up to him—and nothing could be more enchanting -than the smile of his eyes and lips when the leader glanced up at his -inferior, his servant. . . . He stood on the edge of the sea, alone, apart -from his people, quite near to Aschenbach—erect, his hands locked -across the back of his neck, he swayed slowly on the balls of his feet, -looked dreamily into the blueness of sea and sky, while tiny waves -rolled up and bathed his feet. His honey-coloured hair clung in rings -about his neck and temples. The sun made the down on his back glitter; -the fine etching of the ribs, the symmetry of the chest, were emphasized -by the tightness of the suit across the buttocks. His arm-pits were -still as smooth as those of a statue; the hollows of his knees -glistened, and their bluish veins made his body seem built of some -clearer stuff. What rigour, what precision of thought, were expressed in -this erect, youthfully perfect body! Yet the pure and strenuous will -which, darkly at work, could bring such godlike sculpture to the -light—was not he, the artist, familiar with this? Did it not operate -in him too when he, under the press of frugal passions, would free from the -marble mass of speech some slender form which he had seen in the mind -and which he put before his fellows as a statue and a mirror of -intellectual beauty? -</p> - -<p> -Statue and mirror! His eyes took in the noble form there bordered with -blue; and with a rush of enthusiasm he felt that in this spectacle he -was catching the beautiful itself, form as the thought of God, the one -pure perfection which lives in the mind, and which, in this symbol and -likeness, had been placed here quietly and simply as an object of -devotion. That was drunkenness; and eagerly, without thinking, the aging -artist welcomed it. His mind was in travail; all that he had learned, -dropped back into flux; his understanding threw up age-old thoughts -which he had inherited with youth though they had never before lived -with their own fire. Is it not written that the sun diverts our -attention from intellectual to sensual things? Reason and understanding, -it is said, become so numbed and enchanted that the soul forgets -everything out of delight with its immediate circumstances, and in -astonishment becomes attached to the most beautiful object shined on by -the sun; indeed, only with the aid of a body is it capable then of -raising itself to higher considerations. To be sure, Amor did as the -instructors of mathematics who show backward children tangible -representations of the pure forms—similarly the god, in order to make -the spiritual visible for us, readily utilized the form and colour of -man's youth, and as a reminder he adorned these with the reflected -splendour of beauty which, when we behold it, makes us flare up in pain -and hope. -</p> - -<p> -His enthusiasm suggested these things, put him in the mood for them. And -from the noise of the sea and the lustre of the sun he wove himself a -charming picture. Here was the old plane-tree, not far from the walls of -Athens—a holy, shadowy place filled with the smell of <i>agnus -castus</i> blossoms and decorated with ornaments and images sacred to -Achelous and the Nymphs. Clear and pure, the brook at the foot of the -spreading tree fell across the smooth pebbles; the cicadas were -fiddling. But on the grass, which was like a pillow gently sloping to -the head, two people were stretched out, in hiding from the heat of the -day: an older man and a youth, one ugly and one beautiful, wisdom next -to loveliness. And amid gallantries and skilfully engaging banter, -Socrates was instructing Phaedrus in matters of desire and virtue. He -spoke to him of the hot terror which the initiate suffer when their eyes -light on an image of the eternal beauty; spoke of the greed of the -impious and the wicked who cannot think beauty when they see its -likeness, and who are incapable of reverence; spoke of the holy distress -which befalls the noble-minded when a godlike countenance, a perfect -body, appears before them; they tremble and grow distracted, and hardly -dare to raise their eyes, and they honour the man who possesses this -beauty, yes, if they were not afraid of being thought downright madmen -they would sacrifice to the beloved as to the image of a god. For -beauty, my Phaedrus, beauty alone is both lovely and visible at once; it -is, mark me, the only form of the spiritual which we can receive through -the senses. Else what would become of us if the divine, if reason and -virtue and truth, should appear to us through the senses? Should we not -perish and be consumed with love, as Semele once was with Zeus? Thus, -beauty is the sensitive man's access to the spirit—but only a -road, a means simply, little Phaedrus. . . . And then this crafty suitor -made the neatest remark of all; it was this, that the lover is more -divine than the beloved, since the god is in the one, but not in the -other—perhaps the most delicate, the most derisive thought which -has ever been framed, and the one from which spring all the cunning and -the profoundest pleasures of desire. -</p> - -<p> -Writers are happiest with an idea which can become all emotion, and an -emotion all idea. Just such a pulsating idea, such a precise emotion, -belonged to the lonely man at this moment, was at his call. Nature, it -ran, shivers with ecstasy when the spirit bows in homage before beauty. -Suddenly he wanted to write. Eros loves idleness, they say, and he is -suited only to idleness. But at this point in the crisis the affliction -became a stimulus towards productivity. The incentive hardly mattered. A -request, an agitation for an open statement on a certain large burning -issue of culture and taste, was going about the intellectual world, and -had finally caught up with the traveller here. He was familiar with the -subject, it had touched his own experience; and suddenly he felt an -irresistible desire to display it in the light of his own version. And -he even went so far as to prefer working in Tadzio's presence, taking -the scope of the boy as a standard for his writing, making his style -follow the lines of this body which seemed godlike to him, and carrying -his beauty over into the spiritual just as the eagle once carried the -Trojan stag up into the ether. Never had his joy in words been more -sweet. He had never been so aware that Eros is in the word as during -those perilously precious hours when, at his crude table under the -canopy, facing the idol and listening to the music of his voice, he -followed Tadzio's beauty in the forming of his little tract, a page and -a half of choice prose which was soon to excite the admiration of many -through its clarity, its poise, and the vigorous curve of its emotion. -Certainly it is better for people to know only the beautiful product as -finished, and not in its conception, its conditions of origin. For -knowledge of the sources from which the artist derives his inspiration -would often confuse and alienate, and in this way detract from the -effects of his mastery. Strange hours! Strangely enervating efforts! -Rare creative intercourse between the spirit and a body! When Aschenbach -put away his work and started back from the beach be felt exhausted, or -in dispersion even; and it was as though his conscience were complaining -after some transgression. -</p> - -<p> -The following morning, as he was about to leave the hotel, he looked off -from the steps and noticed that Tadzio, who was alone and was already on -his way towards the sea, was just approaching the private beach. He was -half tempted by the simple notion of seizing this opportunity to strike -up a casual friendly acquaintanceship with the boy who had been the -unconscious source of so much agitation and upheaval; he wanted to -address him, and enjoy the answering look in his eyes. The boy was -sauntering along, he could be overtaken; and Aschenbach quickened his -pace. He reached him on the boardwalk behind the bathing houses; was -about to lay a hand on his head and shoulders; and some word or other, -an amiable phrase in French, was on the tip of his tongue. But he felt -that his heart, due also perhaps to his rapid stride, was beating like a -hammer; and he was so short of breath that his voice would have been -tight and trembling. He hesitated, he tried to get himself under -control. Suddenly he became afraid that he had been walking too long so -close behind the boy. He was afraid of arousing curiosity and causing -him to look back questioningly. He made one more spurt, failed, -surrendered, and passed with bowed head. -</p> - -<p> -"Too late!" he thought immediately. Too late! Yet was it too late? This -step which he had just been on the verge of taking would very possibly -have put things on a sound, free and easy basis, and would have restored -him to wholesome soberness. But the fact was that Aschenbach did not -want soberness: his intoxication was too precious. Who can explain the -stamp and the nature of the artist! Who can understand this deep -instinctive welding of discipline and licence? For to be unable to want -wholesome soberness, is licence. Aschenbach was no longer given to -self-criticism. His tastes, the mental caliber of his years, his -self-respect, ripeness, and a belated simplicity made him unwilling to -dismember his motives and to debate whether his impulses were the result -of conscientiousness or of dissolution and weakness. He was embarrassed, -as he feared that someone or other, if only the guard on the beach, must -have observed his pursuit and defeat. He was very much afraid of the -ridiculous. Further, he joked with himself about his comically pious -distress. "Downed," he thought, "downed like a rooster, with his wings -hanging miserably in the battle. It really is a god who can, at one -sight of his loveliness, break our courage this way and force down our -pride so thoroughly. . . ." He toyed and skirmished with his emotions, -and was far too haughty to be afraid of them. -</p> - -<p> -He had already ceased thinking about the time when the vacation period -which he had fixed for himself would expire; the thought of going home -never even suggested itself. He had sent for an ample supply of money. -His only concern was with the possible departure of the Polish family; -by a casual questioning of the hotel barber he had contrived to learn -that these people had come here only a short time before his own -arrival. The sun browned his face and hands, the invigorating salt -breezes made him feel fresher. Once he had been in the habit of -expending on his work every bit of nourishment which food, sleep, or -nature could provide him; and similarly now he was generous and -uneconomical, letting pass off as elation and emotion all the daily -strengthening derived from sun, idleness, and sea air. -</p> - -<p> -His sleep was fitful; the preciously uniform days were separated by -short nights of happy unrest. He did retire early, for at nine o'clock, -when Tadzio had disappeared from the scene, the day seemed over. But at -the first grey of dawn he was awakened by a gently insistent shock; he -suddenly remembered his adventure, he could no longer remain in bed; he -arose, and clad lightly against the chill of morning, he sat down by the -open window to await the rising of the sun. Revived by his sleep, he -watched this miraculous event with reverence. Sky, earth, and sea still -lay in glassy, ghost-like twilight; a dying star still floated in the -emptiness of space But a breeze started up, a winged message from -habitations beyond reach, telling that Eros was rising from beside her -husband. And that first sweet reddening in the farthest stretches of sky -and sea took place by which the sentiency of creation is announced. The -goddess was approaching, the seductress of youth who stole Cleitus and -Cephalus, and despite the envy of all the Olympians enjoyed the love of -handsome Orion. A strewing of roses began there on the edge of the -world, an unutterably pure glowing and blooming. Childish clouds, -lighted and shined through, floated like busy little Cupids in the rosy, -bluish mist. Purple fell upon the sea, which seemed to be simmering, and -washing the colour towards him. Golden spears shot up into the sky from -behind. The splendour caught fire, silently, and with godlike power an -intense flame of licking tongues broke out—and with rattling hoofs -the brother's sacred chargers mounted the horizon. Lighted by the god's -brilliance, he sat there, keeping watch alone. He closed his eyes, -letting this glory play against the lids. Past emotions, precious early -afflictions and yearnings which had been stifled by his rigorous -programme of living, were now returning in such strange new forms. With -an embarrassed, astonished smile, he recognized them. He was thinking, -dreaming; slowly his lips formed a name. And still smiling, with his -face turned upwards, hands folded in his lap, he fell asleep again in -his chair. -</p> - -<p> -But the day which began with such fiery solemnity underwent a strange -mythical transformation. Where did the breeze originate which suddenly -began playing so gently and insinuatingly, like some whispered -suggestion, about his ears and temples? Little white choppy clouds stood -in the sky in scattered clumps, like the pasturing herds of the gods. A -stronger wind arose, and the steeds of Poseidon came prancing up, and -along with them the steers which belonged to the blue-locked god, -bellowing and lowering their horns as they ran. Yet among the detritus -of the more distant beach waves were hopping forward like agile goats. -He was caught in the enchantment of a sacredly distorted world full of -Panic life—and he dreamed delicate legends. Often, when the sun was -sinking behind Venice, he would sit on a bench in the park observing -Tadzio who was dressed in a white suit with a coloured sash and was -playing ball on the smooth gravel—and it was Hyacinth that he seemed -to be watching. Hyacinth who was to die because two gods loved him. Yes, he -felt Zephyr's aching jealousy of the rival who forgot the oracle, the -bow, and the lyre, in order to play for ever with this beauty. He saw -the discus, guided by a pitiless envy, strike the lovely head; he too, -growing pale, caught the drooping body—and the flower, sprung from -this sweet blood, bore the inscription of his unending grief. -</p> - -<p> -Nothing is more unusual and strained than the relationship between -people who know each other only with their eyes, who meet daily, even -hourly, and yet are compelled, by force of custom or their own caprices, -to say no word or make no move of acknowledgement, but to maintain the -appearance of an aloof unconcern. There is a restlessness and a -surcharged curiosity existing between them, the hysteria of an -unsatisfied, unnaturally repressed desire for acquaintanceship and -intercourse; and especially there is a kind of tense respect. For one -person loves and honours another so long as he cannot judge him, and -desire is an evidence of incomplete knowledge. -</p> - -<p> -Some kind of familiarity had necessarily to form itself between -Aschenbach and young Tadzio; and it gave the elderly man keen pleasure -to see that his sympathies and interests were not left completely -unanswered. For example, when the boy appeared on the beach in the -morning and was going towards his family's bathing house, what had -induced him never to use the boardwalk on the far side of it any more, -but to stroll along the front path, through the sand, past Aschenbach's -habitual place, and often unnecessarily close to him, almost touching -his table, or his chair even? Did the attraction, the fascination of an -overpowering emotion have such an effect upon the frail unthinking -object of it? Aschenbach watched daily for Tadzio to approach; and -sometimes he acted as though he were occupied when this event was taking -place, and he let the boy pass unobserved. But at other times he would -look up, and their glances met. They were both in deep earnest when this -occurred. Nothing in the elderly man's cultivated and dignified -expression betrayed any inner movement; but there was a searching look -in Tadzio's eyes, a thoughtful questioning—he began to falter, looked -down, then looked up again charmingly, and when he had passed something -in his bearing seemed to indicate that it was only his breeding which -kept him from turning around. -</p> - -<p> -Once, however, one evening, things turned out differently. The Polish -children and their governess had been missing at dinner in the large -hall; Aschenbach had noted this uneasily. After the meal, disturbed by -their absence, Aschenbach was walking in evening dress and straw hat in -front of the hotel at the foot of the terrace, when suddenly he saw the -nunlike sisters appear in the light of the arc-lamp, accompanied by -their governess and with Tadzio a few steps behind. Evidently they were -coming from the steamer pier after having dined for some reason in the -city. It must have been cool on the water; Tadzio was wearing a dark -blue sailor overcoat with gold buttons, and on his head he had a cap to -match. The sun and sea air had not browned him; his skin still had the -same yellow marble colour as at first. It even seemed paler to-day than -usual, whether from the coolness or from the blanching moonlight of the -lamps. His regular eyebrows showed up more sharply, the darkness of his -eyes was deeper. It is hard to say how beautiful he was; and Aschenbach -was distressed, as he had often been before, by the thought that words -can only evaluate sensuous beauty, but not re-give it. -</p> - -<p> -He had not been prepared for this rich spectacle; it came unhoped for. -He had no time to entrench himself behind an expression of repose and -dignity. Pleasure, surprise, admiration must have shown on his face as -his eyes met those of the boy—and at this moment it happened that -Tadzio smiled, smiled to him, eloquently, familiarly, charmingly, -without concealment; and during the smile his lips slowly opened. It was -the smile of Narcissus bent over the reflecting water, that deep, -fascinated, magnetic smile with which he stretches out his arms to the -image of his own beauty—a smile distorted ever so little, distorted -at the hopelessness of his efforts to kiss the pure lips of the shadow. It -was coquettish, inquisitive, and slightly tortured. It was infatuated, -and infatuating. -</p> - -<p> -He had received this smile, and he hurried away as though he carried a -fatal gift. He was so broken up that he was compelled to escape the -light of the terrace and the front garden; he hastily hunted out the -darkness of the park in the rear. Strangely indignant and tender -admonitions wrung themselves out of him: "You dare not smile like that! -Listen, no one dare smile like that to another!" He threw himself down -on a bench; in a frenzy he breathed the night smell of the vegetation. -And leaning back, his arms loose, overwhelmed, with frequent -chills running through him, he whispered the fixed formula of -desire—impossible in this case, absurd, abject, ridiculous, and yet -holy, even in this case venerable: "I love you!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="V">V</a></h4> - -<p> -During his fourth week at the Lido Gustav von Aschenbach made several -sinister observations touching on the world about him. First, it seemed -to him that as the season progressed the number of guests at the hotel -was diminishing rather than increasing; and German especially seemed to -be dropping away, so that finally he heard nothing but foreign sounds at -table and on the beach. Then one day in conversation with the barber, -whom he visited often, he caught a word which startled him. The man had -mentioned a German family that left soon after their arrival; he added -glibly and flatteringly, "But you are staying, sir. You have no fear of -the plague." Aschenbach looked at him. "The plague?" he repeated. The -gossiper was silent, made out as though busy with other things, ignored -the question. When it was put more insistently, he declared that he knew -nothing, and with embarrassing volubility he tried to change the -subject. -</p> - -<p> -That was about noon. In the afternoon there was a calm, and Aschenbach -rode to Venice under an intense sun. For he was driven by a mania to -follow the Polish children whom he had seen with their governess taking -the road to the steamer pier. He did not find the idol at San Marco. But -while sitting over his tea at his little round iron table on the shady -side of the square, he suddenly detected a peculiar odour in the air -which, it seemed to him now, he had noticed for days without being -consciously aware of it. The smell was sweetish and drug-like, -suggesting sickness, and wounds, and a suspicious cleanliness. He tested -and examined it thoughtfully, finished his luncheon, and left the square -on the side opposite the church. The smell was stronger where the street -narrowed. On the corners printed posters were hung, giving municipal -warnings against certain diseases of the gastric system liable to occur -at this season, against the eating of oysters and clams, and also -against the water of the canals. The euphemistic nature of the -announcement was palpable. Groups of people had collected in silence on -the bridges and squares; and the foreigner stood among them, scenting -and investigating. -</p> - -<p> -At a little shop he inquired about the fatal smell, asking the -proprietor, who was leaning against his door surrounded by coral chains -and imitation amethyst jewellery. The man measured him with heavy eyes, -and brightened up hastily. "A matter of precaution, sir!" he answered -with a gesture. "A regulation of the police which must be taken for what -it is worth. This weather is oppressive, the sirocco is not good for the -health. In short, you understand—an exaggerated prudence perhaps." -Aschenbach thanked him and went on. Also on the steamer back to the Lido -he caught the smell of the disinfectant. -</p> - -<p> -Returning to the hotel, he went immediately to the periodical stand in -the lobby and ran through the papers. He found nothing in the foreign -language press. The domestic press spoke of rumours, produced hazy -statistics, repeated official denials and questioned their truthfulness. -This explained the departure of the German and Austrian guests. -Obviously, the subjects of the other nations knew nothing, suspected -nothing, were not yet uneasy. "To keep it quiet!" Aschenbach thought -angrily, as he threw the papers back on the table. "To keep that quiet!" -But at the same moment he was filled with satisfaction over the -adventure that was to befall the world about him. For passion, like -crime, is not suited to the secure daily rounds of order and well-being; -and every slackening in the bourgeois structure, every disorder and -affliction of the world, must be held welcome, since they bring with -them a vague promise of advantage. So Aschenbach felt a dark contentment -with what was taking place, under cover of the authorities, in the dirty -alleys of Venice. This wicked secret of the city was welded with his own -secret, and he too was involved in keeping it hidden. For in his -infatuation he cared about nothing but the possibility of Tadzio's -leaving, and he realized with something like terror that he would not -know how to go on living if this occurred. -</p> - -<p> -Lately he had not been relying simply on good luck and the daily routine -for his chances to be near the boy and look at him. He pursued him, -stalked him. On Sundays, for instance, the Poles never appeared on the -beach. He guessed that they must be attending mass at San Marco. He -hurried there; and stepping from the heat of the square into the golden -twilight of the church, he found the boy he was hunting, bowed over a -<i>prie-dieu</i>, praying. Then he stood in the background, on the cracked -mosaic floor, with people on all sides kneeling, murmuring, and making -the sign of the cross. And the compact grandeur of this oriental temple -weighed heavily on his senses. In front, the richly ornamented priest -was conducting the office, moving about and singing; incense poured -forth, clouding the weak little flame of the candle on the altar—and -with the sweet, stuffy sacrificial odour another seemed to commingle -faintly: the smell of the infested city. But through the smoke and the -sparkle Aschenbach saw how the boy there in front turned his head, -hunted him out, and looked at him. -</p> - -<p> -When the crowd was streaming out through the opened portals into the -brilliant square with its swarms of pigeons, the lover hid in the -vestibule; he kept trader cover, he lay in wait. He saw the Poles quit -the church, saw how the children took ceremonious leave of their mother, -and how she turned towards the Piazzetta on her way home. He made sure -that the boy, the nunlike sisters, and the governess took the road to -the right through the gateway of the dock tower and into the Merceria. -And after giving them a slight start, he followed, followed them -furtively on their walk through Venice. He had to stand still when they -stopped, had to take flight in shops and courts to let them pass when -they turned back. He lost them; hot and exhausted, he hunted them over -bridges and down dirty blind-alleys—and he underwent minutes of -deadly agony when suddenly he saw them coming towards him in a narrow -passage where escape was impossible. Yet it could not be said that he -suffered. He was drunk, and his steps followed the promptings of the demon -who delights in treading human reason and dignity under foot. -</p> - -<p> -In one place Tadzio and his companions took a gondola; and shortly after -they had pushed off from the shore, Aschenbach, who had hidden behind -some structure, a well, while they were climbing in, now did the same. -He spoke in a hurried undertone as he directed the rower, with the -promise of a generous tip, to follow unnoticed and at a distance that -gondola which was just rounding the corner. And he thrilled when the -man, with the roguish willingness of an accomplice, assured him in the -same tone that his wishes would be carried out, carried out faithfully. -</p> - -<p> -Leaning back against the soft black cushions, he rocked and glided -towards the other black-beaked craft where his passion was drawing him. -At times it escaped; then he felt worried and uneasy. But his pilot, as -though skilled in such commissions, was always able through sly -manoeuvres, speedy diagonals and shortcuts, to bring the quest into view -again. The air was quiet and smelly, the sun burned down strong through -the slate-coloured mist. Water slapped against the wood and stone. The -call of the gondolier, half warning, half greeting, was answered with a -strange obedience far away in the silence of the labyrinth. White and -purple umbels with the scent of almonds hung down from little elevated -gardens over crumbling walls. Arabian window-casings were outlined -through the murkiness. The marble steps of a church descended into the -water; a beggar squatted there, protesting his misery, holding out his -hat, and showing the whites of his eyes as though he were blind. An -antiquarian in front of his den fawned on the passer-by and invited him -to stop in the hopes of swindling him. That was Venice, the flatteringly -and suspiciously beautiful—this city, half legend, half snare for -strangers; in its foul air art once flourished gluttonously, and had -suggested to its musicians seductive notes which cradle and lull. The -adventurer felt as though his eyes were taking in this same luxury, as -though his ears were being won by just such melodies. He recalled too -that the city was diseased and was concealing this through greed—and -he peered more eagerly after the retreating gondola. -</p> - -<p> -Thus, in his infatuation, he wanted simply to pursue uninterrupted the -object that aroused him, to dream of it when it was not there, and, -after the fashion of lovers, to speak softly to its mere outline. -Loneliness, strangeness, and the joy of a deep belated intoxication -encouraged him and prompted him to accept even the remotest things -without reserve or shame—with the result that as he returned late in -the evening from Venice, he stopped on the second floor of the hotel -before the door of the boy's room, laid his head in utter drunkenness -against the hinge of the door, and for a long time could not drag -himself away despite the danger of being caught and embarrassed in such -a mad situation. -</p> - -<p> -Yet there were still moments of relief when he came partly to his -senses. "Where to!" he would think, alarmed. "Where to!" Like every man -whose natural abilities stimulate an aristocratic interest in his -ancestry, he was accustomed to think of his forbears in connexion with -the accomplishments and successes of his life, to assure himself of -their approval, their satisfaction, their undeniable respect. He thought -of them now, entangled as he was in such an illicit experience, caught -in such exotic transgressions. He thought of their characteristic -rigidity of principle, their scrupulous masculinity—and he smiled -dejectedly. What would they say? But then, what would they have said to -his whole life, which was almost degenerate in its departure from theirs, -this life under the bane of art—a life against which he himself -had once issued such youthful mockeries out of loyalty to his fathers, -but which at bottom had been so much like theirs! He too had served, he -too had been a soldier and a warrior like many of them—for art was a -war, a destructive battle, and one was not equal to it for long these -days. A life of self-conquest and of in-spite-offs, a rigid, sober, and -unyielding life which he had formed into the symbol of a delicate and -timely heroism. He might well call it masculine, or brave; and it almost -seemed as though the Eros mastering him were somehow peculiarly adapted -and inclined to such a life. Had not this Eros stood in high repute -among the bravest of peoples; was it not true that precisely through -bravery he had flourished in their cities? Numerous war heroes of -antiquity had willingly borne his yoke, for nothing was deemed a -disgrace which the god imposed; and acts which would Have been -rebuked as the sign of cowardice if they had been done for other -purposes—prostrations, oaths, entreaties, abjectness—such -things did not bring shame upon the lover, but rather he reaped praise -for them. -</p> - -<p> -In this way his infatuation determined the course of his thoughts, in -this way he tried to uphold himself, to preserve his respect. But at the -same time, selfish and calculating, he turned his attention to the -unclean transactions here in Venice, this adventure of the outer world -which conspired darkly with his own and which fed his passion with vague -lawless hopes. -</p> - -<p> -Bent on getting reliable news of the condition and progress of the -pestilence, he ransacked the local papers in the city cafés, as they -had been missing from the reading table of the hotel lobby for several -days now. Statements alternated with disavowals. The number of the sick -and dead was supposed to reach twenty, forty, or even a hundred and -more—and immediately afterwards every instance of the plague would be -either flatly denied or attributed to completely isolated cases which -had crept in from the outside. There were scattered admonitions, -protests against the dangerous conduct of foreign authorities. Certainty -was impossible. Nevertheless the lone man felt especially entitled to -participate in the secret; and although he was excluded, he derived a -grotesque satisfaction from putting embarrassing questions to those who -did know, and as they were pledged to silence, forcing them into -deliberate lies. One day at breakfast in the large dining-hall he -entered into a conversation with the manager, that softly-treading -little man in the French frock coat who was moving amiably and -solicitously about among the diners and had stopped at Aschenbach's -table for a few passing words. Just why, the guest asked negligently and -casually, had disinfectants become so prevalent in Venice recently? "It -has to do," was the evasive answer, "with a police regulation, and is -intended to prevent any inconveniences or disturbances to the public -health which might result from the exceptionally warm and threatening -weather." . . . "The police are to be congratulated," Aschenbach -answered; and after the exchange of a few remarks on the weather, the -manager left. -</p> - -<p> -Yet that same day, in the evening, after dinner, it happened that a -little band of strolling singers from the city gave a performance in the -front garden of the hotel. Two men and two women, they stood by the iron -post of an arc-lamp and turned their whitened faces up towards the large -terrace where the guests were enjoying this folk-recital over their -coffee and cooling drinks. The hotel personnel, bell boys, waiters, and -clerks from the office, could be seen listening by the doors of the -vestibule. The Russian family, eager and precise in their amusements, -had had wicker chairs placed in the garden in order to be nearer the -performers; and they were sitting here in an appreciative semi-circle. -Behind the ladies and gentlemen, in her turban-like kerchief, stood the -old slave. -</p> - -<p> -Mandolin, guitar, harmonica, and a squeaky violin were responding to the -touch of the virtuoso beggars. Instrumental numbers alternated with -songs, as when the younger of the women, with a sharp trembling voice, -joined with the sweetly falsetto tenor in a languishing love duet. But -the real talent and leader of the group was undoubtedly the other of the -two men, the one with the guitar. He was a kind of <i>buffo</i> baritone, -with not much of a voice, although he did have a gift for pantomime, and -a remarkable comic energy. Often, with his large instrument under his -arm, he would leave the rest of the group and, still acting, would -intrude on the platform, where his antics were rewarded with encouraging -laughter. Especially the Russians in their seats down front seemed to be -enchanted with so much southern mobility, and their applause incited him -to let himself out more and more boldly and assertively. -</p> - -<p> -Aschenbach sat on the balustrade, cooling his lips now and then with a -mixture of pomegranate juice and soda which glowed ruby red in his glass -in front of him. His nerves took in the miserable notes, the vulgar -crooning melodies; for passion lames the sense of discrimination, and -surrenders in all seriousness to appeals which, in sober moments, are -either humorously allowed for or rejected with annoyance. At the clown's -antics his features bad twisted into a set painful smile. He sat there -relaxed, although inwardly he was intensely awake; for six paces from -him Tadzio was leaning against the stone hand-rail. -</p> - -<p> -In the white belted coat which he often wore at meal times, he was -standing in a position of spontaneous and inborn gracefulness, his left -forearm on the railing, feet crossed, the right hand on a supporting -hip; and he looked down at the street-singers with an expression which -was hardly a smile, but only an aloof curiosity, a polite amiability. -Often he would stand erect and, expanding his chest, would draw the -white smock down under his leather belt with a beautiful gesture. And -then too, the aging man observed with a tumult of fright and triumph how -he would often turn his head over the left shoulder in the direction of -his admirer, carefully and hesitatingly, or even with abruptness as -though to attack by surprise. He did not meet Aschenbach's eyes, for a -mean precaution compelled the transgressor to keep from staring at him: -in the background of the terrace the women who guarded Tadzio were -sitting, and things had reached a point where the lover had to fear that -he might be noticed and suspected. Yes, he had often observed with a -kind of numbness how, when Tadzio was near him, on the beach, in the -hotel lobby, in the Piazza San Marco, they called him back, they were -set on keeping him at a distance—and this wounded him frightfully, -causing his pride unknown tortures which his conscience would not permit -him to evade. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the guitar-player had begun a solo to his own accompaniment, -a street-ballad popular throughout Italy. It had several strophes, and -the entire company joined each time in the refrain, all singing and -playing, while he managed to give a plastic and dramatic twist to the -performance. Of slight build, with thin and impoverished features, he -stood on the gravel, apart from his companions, in an attitude of -insolent bravado, his shabby felt hat on the back of his head so that a -bunch of his red hair jutted out from under the brim. And to the -thrumming of the strings he flung his jokes up at the terrace in a -penetrating recitative; while the veins were swelling on his forehead -from the exertion of his performance. He did not seem of Venetian stock, -but rather of the race of Neapolitan comedians, half pimp, half -entertainer, brutal and audacious, dangerous and amusing. His song was -stupid enough so far as the words went; but in his mouth, by his -gestures, the movements of his body, his way of blinking significantly -and letting the tongue play across his lips, it acquired something -ambiguous, something vaguely repulsive. In addition to the customary -civilian dress, he was wearing a sport shirt; and his skinny neck -protruded above the soft collar, baring a noticeably large and active -Adam's-apple. He was pale and snub-nosed. It was hard to fix an age to -his beardless features, which seemed furrowed with grimaces and -depravity; and the two wrinkles standing arrogantly, harshly, almost -savagely between his reddish eyebrows were strangely suited to the smirk -on his mobile lips. Yet what really prompted the lonely man to pay him -keen attention was the observation that the questionable figure seemed -also to provide its own questionable atmosphere. For each time they came -to the refrain the singer, amid buffoonery and familiar handshakes, -began a grotesque circular march which brought him immediately beneath -Aschenbach's place; and each time this happened there blew up to the -terrace from his clothes and body a strong carbolic smell. -</p> - -<p> -After the song was ended, he began collecting money. He started with the -Russians, who were evidently willing to spend, and then came up the -stairs. Up here he showed himself just as humble as he had been bold -during the performance. Cringing and bowing, he stole about among the -tables, and a smile of obsequious cunning exposed his strong teeth, -while the two wrinkles still stood ominously between his red eyebrows. This -singular character collecting money to live on—they eyed him with -a curiosity and a kind of repugnance, they tossed coins into his felt -hat with the tips of their fingers, and were careful not to touch him. -The elimination of the physical distance between the comedian and the -audience, no matter how great the enjoyment may have been, always causes -a certain uneasiness. He felt it, and tried to excuse it by grovelling. -He came up to Aschenbach, and along with him the smell, which no one -else seemed concerned about. -</p> - -<p> -"Listen!" the recluse said in an undertone, almost mechanically. "They -are disinfecting Venice. Why?" The jester answered hoarsely, "On account -of the police. That is a precaution, sir, with such heat, and the -sirocco. The sirocco is oppressive. It is not good for the health." He -spoke as though astonished that any one could ask such things, and -demonstrated with his open hand how oppressive the sirocco was. "Then -there is no plague in Venice?" Aschenbach asked quietly, between his -teeth. The clown's muscular features fell into a grimace of comical -embarrassment. "A plague? What kind of plague? Perhaps our police are a -plague? You like to joke! A plague! Of all things! A precautionary -measure, you understand! A police regulation against the effects of the -oppressive weather." He gesticulated. "Very well," Aschenbach said -several times curtly and quietly; and he quickly dropped an unduly large -coin into the hat. Then with his eyes he signalled the man to leave. He -obeyed, smirking and bowing. But he had not reached the stairs before -two hotel employees threw themselves upon him, and with their faces -close to his began a whispered cross-examination. He shrugged his -shoulders; he gave assurances, he swore that he had kept quiet—that -was evident. He was released, and he returned to the garden; then after a -short conference with his companions, he stepped out once more for a -final song of thanks and leave-taking. -</p> - -<p> -It was a rousing song which the recluse never recalled having heard -before, a "big number" in incomprehensible dialect, with a laugh refrain -in which the troupe joined regularly at the tops of their voices. At -this point both the words and the accompaniment of the instruments -stopped, with nothing left but a laugh which was somehow arranged -rhythmically although very naturally done—and the soloist especially -showed great talent in giving it a most deceptive vitality. At the -renewal of his professional distance from the audience he had recovered -all his boldness again, and the artificial laugh that he directed up -towards the terrace was derisive. Even before the end of the articulate -portion of the strophe, he seemed to struggle against an irresistible -tickling. He gulped, his voice trembled, he pressed his hand over his -mouth, he contorted his shoulders; and at the proper moment the -ungovernable laugh broke out of him, burst into such real cackles that -it was infectious and communicated itself to the audience, so that on -the terrace also an unfounded hilarity, living off itself alone, started -up. But this seemed to double the singer's exuberance. He bent his -knees, he slapped his thighs, he nearly split himself; he no longer -laughed, he shrieked. He pointed up with his finger, as though nothing -were more comic than the laughing guests there, and finally everyone in -the garden and on the verandah was laughing, even to the waiters, bell -boys, and house-servants in the doorways. -</p> - -<p> -Aschenbach was no longer resting in his chair; he sat upright, as if -attempting to defend himself, or to escape. But the laughter, the whiffs -of the hospital smell, and the boy's nearness combined to put him into a -trance that held his mind and his senses hopelessly captive. In the -general movement and distraction he ventured to glance across at Tadzio, -and as he did so he dared observe that the boy, in reply to his glance, -was equally serious, much as though he had modelled his conduct and -expression after those of one man, and the prevalent mood had no effect -on him since this one man was not part of it. This portentous childish -obedience had something so disarming and overpowering about it that the -grey-haired man could hardly restrain himself from burying his face in -his hands. It had also seemed to him that Tadzio's occasional stretching -and quick breathing indicated a complaint, a congestion, of the lungs. -"He is sickly, he will probably not grow old," he thought repeatedly -with that positiveness which is often a peculiar relief to desire and -passion. And along with pure solitude he had a feeling of rakish -gratification. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the Venetians had ended and were leaving. Applause accompanied -them, and their leader did not miss the opportunity to cover his retreat -with further jests. His bows, the kisses he blew, were laughed at—and -so he doubled them. When his companions were already gone, he acted as -though he had hurt himself by backing into a lamp-post, and he crept -through the gate seemingly crippled with pain. Then he suddenly threw -off the mask of comic hard luck, stood upright, hurried away jauntily, -stuck out his tongue insolently at the guests on the terrace, and -slipped into the darkness. The company was breaking up; Tadzio had been -missing from the balustrade for some time. But, to the displeasure of -the waiters, the lonely man sat for a long while over the remains of his -pomegranate drink. Night advanced. Time was crumbling. In the house of -his parents many years back there had been an hour glass—of a sudden -he saw the fragile and expressive instrument again, as though it were -standing in front of him. Fine and noiseless the rust-red sand was -running through the glass neck; and since it was getting low in the -upper half, a speedy little vortex had been formed there. -</p> - -<p> -As early as the following day, in the afternoon, he had made new -progress in his obstinate baiting of the people he met—and this time -he had all possible success. He walked from the Piazza of St. Mark's into -the English travelling bureau located there; and after changing some -money at the cash desk, he put on the expression of a distrustful -foreigner and launched his fatal question at the attendant clerk. He was -a Britisher; he wore a woollen suit, and was still young, with close-set -eyes, and had that characteristic stolid reliability which is so -peculiarly and strikingly appealing in the tricky, nimble-witted South. -He began, "No reason for alarm, sir. A regulation without any serious -significance. Such measures are often taken to anticipate the unhealthy -effects of the heat and the sirocco . . ." But as he raised his blue -eyes, he met the stare of the foreigner, a tired and somewhat unhappy -stare focussed on his lips with a touch of scorn. Then the Englishman -blushed. "At least," he continued in an emotional undertone, "that is -the official explanation which people here are content to accept. I will -admit that there is something more behind it." And then in his frank and -leisurely manner he told the truth. -</p> - -<p> -For several years now Indian cholera had shown a heightened tendency to -spread and migrate. Hatched in the warm swamps of the Ganges delta, -rising with the noxious breath of that luxuriant, unfit primitive world -and island wilderness which is shunned by humans and where the tiger -crouches in the bamboo thickets, the plague had raged continuously and -with unusual strength in Hindustan, had reached eastwards to China, -westwards to Afghanistan and Persia, and following the chief caravan -routes, had carried its terrors to Astrachan, and even to Moscow. But -while Europe was trembling lest the spectre continue its advance from -there across the country, it had been transported over the sea by Syrian -merchantmen, and had turned up almost simultaneously in several -Mediterranean ports, had raised its head in Toulon and Malaga, had -showed its mask several times in Palermo and Naples, and seemed -permanently entrenched through Calabria and Apulia. The north of the -peninsula had been spared. Yet in the middle of this May in Venice the -frightful vibrions were found on one and the same day in the blackish -wasted bodies of a cabin boy and a woman who sold greengroceries. The -cases were kept secret. But within a week there were ten, twenty, thirty -more, and in various sections. A man from the Austrian provinces who had -made a pleasure trip to Venice for a few days, returned to his home town -and died with unmistakable symptoms—and that is how the first reports -of the pestilence in the lagoon city got into the German newspapers. The -Venetian authorities answered that the city's health conditions had -never been better, and took the most necessary preventive measures. But -probably the food supply had been infected. Denied and glossed over, -death was eating its way along the narrow streets, and its dissemination -was especially favoured by the premature summer heat which made the -water of the canals lukewarm. Yes, it seemed as though the plague had -got renewed strength, as though the tenacity and fruitfulness of its -stimuli had doubled. Cases of recovery were rare. Out of a hundred -attacks, eighty were fatal, and in the most horrible manner. For the -plague moved with utter savagery, and often showed that most dangerous -form, which is called "the drying." Water from the blood vessels -collected in pockets, and the blood was unable to carry this off. Within -a few hours the victim was parched, his blood became as thick as glue, -and he stifled amid cramps and hoarse groans. Lucky for him if, as -sometimes happened, the attack took the form of a light discomfiture -followed by a profound coma from which he seldom or never awakened. At -the beginning of June the pesthouse of the Ospedale Civico had quietly -filled; there was not much room left in the two orphan asylums, and a -frightfully active commerce was kept up between the wharf of the -Fondamenta Nuove and San Michele, the burial island. But there was the -fear of a general drop in prosperity. The recently opened art exhibit in -the public gardens was to be considered, along with the heavy losses -which in case of panic or unfavourable rumours, would threaten business, -the hotels, the entire elaborate system for exploiting foreigners—and -as these considerations evidently carried more weight than love of truth -or respect for international agreements, the city authorities upheld -obstinately their policy of silence and denial. The chief health officer -had resigned from his post in indignation, and been promptly replaced by -a more tractable personality. The people knew this; and the corruption -of their superiors, together with the predominating insecurity, the -exceptional condition into which the prevalence of death had plunged the -city, induced a certain demoralization of the lower classes, encouraging -shady and anti-social impulses which manifested themselves in licence, -profligacy, and a rising crime wave. Contrary to custom, many drunkards -were seen in the evenings; it was said that at night nasty mobs made the -streets unsafe. Burglaries and even murders became frequent, for it had -already been proved on two occasions that persons who had presumably -fallen victim to the plague had in reality been dispatched with poison -by their own relatives. And professional debauchery assumed abnormal and -obtrusive proportions such as had never been known here before, and to -an extent which is usually found only in the southern parts of the -country and in the Orient. -</p> - -<p> -The Englishman pronounced the final verdict on these facts. "You would -do well," he concluded, "to leave to-day rather than to-morrow. It -cannot be much more than a couple of days before a quarantine zone is -declared." "Thank you," Aschenbach said, and left the office. -</p> - -<p> -The square lay sunless and stifling. Unsuspecting foreigners sat in -front of the cafés, or stood among the pigeons in front of the church -and watched the swarms of birds flapping their wings, crowding one -another, and pecking at grains of corn offered them in open palms. The -recluse was feverishly excited, triumphant in his possession of the -truth. But it had left him with a bad taste in his mouth, and a weird -horror in his heart. As he walked up and down the flagstones of the -gorgeous court he was weighing an action which would meet the situation -and would absolve him. This evening after dinner he could approach the -woman with the pearls and make her a speech; he had figured it out word -for word: "Permit a foreigner, madam, to give you some useful advice, a -warning, which is being withheld from you through self-interest. Leave -immediately with Tadzio and your daughters! Venice is full of the -plague." Then he could lay a farewell hand on the head of this tool of a -mocking divinity, turn away, and flee this morass. But he felt at the -same time that he was very far from seriously desiring such a move. He -would retract it, would disengage himself from it. . . . But when we are -distracted we loathe most the thought of retracing our steps. He -recalled a white building, ornamented with inscriptions which glistened -in the evening and in whose transparent mysticism his mind's eye had -lost itself—and then that strange wanderer's form which had awakened -in the aging man the roving hankerings of youth after the foreign and the -remote. And the thought of return, the thought of prudence and -soberness, effort, mastery, disgusted him to such an extent that his -face was distorted with an expression of physical nausea. "It must be -kept silent!" he whispered heavily. And: "I will keep silent!" The -consciousness of his share in the facts and the guilt intoxicated him, -much as a little wine intoxicates a tired brain. The picture of the -diseased and neglected city hovering desolately before him aroused vague -hopes beyond the bounds of reason, but with an egregious sweetness. What -was the scant happiness he had dreamed of a moment ago, compared with -these expectations? What were art and virtue worth to him, over against -the advantages of chaos? He kept silent, and remained in Venice. -</p> - -<p> -This same night he had a frightful dream, if one can designate as a -dream a bodily and mental experience which occurred to him in the -deepest sleep, completely independent of him, and with a physical -realness, although he never saw himself present or moving about among -the incidents; but their stage rather was his soul itself, and they -broke in from without, trampling down his resistance—a profound and -spiritual resistance—by sheer force; and when they had passed -through, they left his substance, the culture of his lifetime, crushed and -annihilated behind them. -</p> - -<p> -It began with anguish, anguish and desire, and a frightened curiosity as -to what was coming. It was night, and his senses were on the watch. From -far off a grumble, an uproar, was approaching, a jumble of noises. -Clanking, blaring, and dull thunder, with shrill shouts and a definite -whine in a long drawn out u-sound—all this was sweetly, ominously -interspersed and dominated by the deep cooing of wickedly persistent -flutes which charmed the bowels in a shamelessly penetrative manner. But -he knew one word; it was veiled, and yet would name what was -approaching: "The foreign god!" Vaporous fire began to glow; then he -recognized mountains like those about his summer house. And in the -scattered light, from high up in the woods, among tree trunks and -crumbling moss-grown rocks—people, beasts, a throng, a raging mob -plunged twisting and whirling downwards, and made the hill swarm with -bodies, flames, tumult, and a riotous round dance. Women, tripped by -over-long fur draperies which hung from their waists, were holding up -tambourines and beating on them, their groaning heads flung back. Others -swung sparking firebrands and bare daggers, or wore hissing snakes about -the middle of their bodies, or shrieking held their breasts in their two -hands. Men with horns on their foreheads, shaggy-haired, girded with -hides, bent back their necks and raised their arms and thighs, clashed -brass cymbals and beat furiously at kettledrums, while smooth boys -prodded he-goats with wreathed sticks, climbing on their horns and -falling off with shouts when they bounded. And the bacchantes wailed the -word with the soft consonants and the drawn out u-sound, at once sweet -and savage, like nothing ever heard before. In one place it rang out as -though piped into the air by stags, and it was echoed in another by many -voices, in wild triumph—with it they incited one another to dance and -to fling out their arms and legs, and it was never silent. But -everything was pierced and dominated by the deep coaxing flute. He who -was fighting against this experience—did it not coax him too with its -shameless penetration, into the feast and the excesses of the extreme -sacrifice? His repugnance, his fear, were keen—he was honourably set -on defending himself to the very last against the barbarian, the foe to -intellectual poise and dignity. But the noise, the howling, multiplied -by the resonant walls of the hills, grew, took the upper hand, swelled -to a fury of rapture. Odours oppressed the senses, the pungent smell of -the bucks, the scent of moist bodies, and a waft of stagnant water, with -another smell, something familiar, the smell of wounds and prevalent -disease. At the beating of the drum his heart fluttered, his head was -spinning, he was caught in a frenzy, in a blinding deafening -lewdness—and he yearned to join the ranks of the god. The obscene -symbol, huge, wooden, was uncovered and raised up; then they howled the -magic word with more abandon. Foaming at the mouth, they raged, teased -one another with ruttish gestures and caressing hands; laughing and -groaning, they stuck the goads into one another's flesh and licked the -blood from their limbs. But the dreamer now was with them, in them, and -he belonged to the foreign god. Yes, they were he himself, as they -hurled themselves biting and tearing upon the animals, got entangled in -steaming rags, and fell in promiscuous unions on the torn moss, in -sacrifice to their god. And his soul tasted the unchastity and fury of -decay. -</p> - -<p> -When he awakened from the affliction of this dream he was unnerved, -shattered, and hopelessly under the power of the demon. He no longer -avoided the inquisitive glances of other people; he did not care if he -was exciting their suspicions. And as a matter of fact they were -fleeing, travelling elsewhere. Numerous bathing houses stood empty, the -occupants of the dining-hall became more and more scattered, and in the -city now one rarely saw a foreigner. The truth seemed to have leaked -out; the panic, despite the reticence of those whose interests were -involved, seemed no longer avoidable. But the woman with the pearls -remained with her family, either because the rumours had not yet reached -her, or because she was too proud and fearless to heed them. Tadzio -remained. And to Aschenbach, in his infatuation, it seemed at times as -though flight and death might remove all the disturbing elements of life -around them, and he stay here alone with the boy. Yes, by the sea in the -forenoon when his eyes rested heavily, irresponsibly, unwaveringly on -the thing he coveted, or when, as the day was ending, he followed -shamelessly after him through streets where the hideous death lurked in -secret—at such times the atrocious seemed to him rich in -possibilities, and laws of morality had dropped away. -</p> - -<p> -Like any lover, he wanted to please; and he felt a bitter anguish lest -it might not be possible. He added bright youthful details to his dress, -he put on jewels, and used perfumes. During the day he often spent much -time over his toilet, and came to the table strikingly dressed, excited, -and in suspense. In the light of the sweet youthfulness which had done -this to him, he detested his aging body. The sight of his grey hair, his -sharp features, plunged him into shame and hopelessness. It induced him -to attempt rejuvenating his body and appearance. He often visited the -hotel barber. -</p> - -<p> -Beneath the barber's apron, leaning back in the chair under the -gossiper's expert hands, he winced to observe his reflection in the -mirror. -</p> - -<p> -"Grey," he said, making a wry face. -</p> - -<p> -"A little," the man answered. "Due entirely to a slight neglect, an -indifference to outward things, which is conceivable in people of -importance, but it is not exactly praiseworthy. And all the less so -since such persons are above prejudice in matters of nature or art. If -the moral objections of certain people to the art of cosmetics were to -be logically extended to the care of the teeth, they would give no -slight offence. And after all, we are just as old as we feel, and under -some circumstances grey hair would actually stand for more of an untruth -than the despised correction. In your case, sir, you are entitled to the -natural colour of your hair. Will you permit me simply to return what -belongs to you?" -</p> - -<p> -"How is that?" Aschenbach asked. -</p> - -<p> -Then the orator washed his client's hair with two kinds of water, one -clear and one dark, and it was as black as in youth. Following this, he -curled it with irons into soft waves, stepped back, and eyed his work. -</p> - -<p> -"All that is left now," he said, "would be to freshen up the skin a -little." -</p> - -<p> -And like someone who cannot finish, cannot satisfy himself, he passed -with quickening energy from one manipulation to another. Aschenbach -rested comfortably, incapable of resistance, or rather his hopes aroused -by what was taking place. In the glass he saw his brows arch more evenly -and decisively. His eyes became longer; their brilliance was heightened -by a light touching-up of the lids. A little lower, where the skin had -been a leatherish brown, he saw a delicate crimson tint grow beneath a -deft application of colour. His lips, bloodless a little while past, -became full, and as red as raspberries. The furrows in the cheeks and -about the mouth, the wrinkles of the eyes, disappeared beneath lotions -and cream. With a knocking heart he beheld a blossoming youth. Finally -the beauty specialist declared himself content, after the manner of such -people, by obsequiously thanking the man he had been serving. "A -trifling assistance," he said, as he applied one parting touch. "Now the -gentleman can fall in love unhesitatingly." He walked away, fascinated; -he was happy as in a dream, timid and bewildered. His necktie was red, -his broad-brimmed straw hat was trimmed with a variegated band. -</p> - -<p> -A tepid storm wind had risen. It was raining sparsely and at intervals, -but the air was damp, thick, and filled with the smell of things -rotting. All around him he heard a fluttering, pattering, and swishing; -and under the fever of his cosmetics it seemed to him as though evil -wind-spirits were haunting the place, impure sea birds which rooted and -gnawed at the food of the condemned and befouled it with their -droppings. For the sultriness destroyed his appetite, and the fancy -suggested itself that the foods were poisoned with contaminating -substances. Tracking the boy one afternoon, Aschenbach had plunged deep -into the tangled centre of the diseased city. He was becoming uncertain -of where he was, since the alleys, waterways, bridges, and little -squares of the labyrinth were all so much alike, and he was no longer -even sure of directions. He was absorbed with the problem of keeping the -pursued figure in sight. And, driven to disgraceful subterfuges, -flattening himself against walls, hiding behind the backs of other -people, for a long time he did not notice the weariness, the exhaustion, -with which emotion and the continual suspense had taxed his mind and his -body. Tadzio walked behind his companions. He always allowed the -governess and the nunlike sisters to precede him in the narrow places; -and loitering behind alone, he would turn his head occasionally to look -over his shoulder and make sure by a glance of his peculiarly dark-grey -eyes that his admirer was following. He saw him, and did not betray him. -Drunk with the knowledge of this, lured forward by those eyes, led -meekly by his passion, the lover stole after his unseemly hope—but -finally he was cheated and lost sight of him. The Poles had crossed a -short arching bridge; the height of the curve hid them from the pursuer, -and when he himself had arrived there he no longer saw them. He hunted -for them vainly in three directions, straight ahead and to either side -along the narrow dirty wharf. In the end he was so tired and unnerved -that he had to give up the search. -</p> - -<p> -His head was on fire, his body was covered with a sticky sweat, his -knees trembled. He could no longer endure the thirst that was torturing -him, and he looked around for some immediate relief. From a little -vegetable store he bought some fruit—strawberries, soft and overly -ripe—and he ate them as he walked. A very charming, forsaken little -square opened up before him. He recognized it; here he had made his -frustrated plans for flight weeks ago. He let himself sink down on the -steps of the cistern in the middle of the square, and laid his head -against the stone cylinder. It was quiet; grass was growing up through -the pavement; refuse was scattered about. Among the weather-beaten, -unusually tall houses surrounding him there was one like a palace, with -little lion-covered balconies, and Gothic windows with blank emptiness -behind them. On the ground floor of another house was a drug store. Warm -gusts of wind occasionally carried the smell of carbolic acid. -</p> - -<p> -He sat there, he, the master, the artist of dignity, the author of The -Wretch, a work which had, in such accurate symbols, renounced -vagabondage and the depths of misery, had denied all sympathy with the -engulfed, and had cast out the outcast; the man who had arrived and, -victor over his own knowledge, had outgrown all irony and acclimatized -himself to the obligations of public confidence; whose reputation was -official, whose name had been knighted, and on whose style boys were -urged to pattern themselves—he sat there. His eyelids were shut; only -now and then a mocking uneasy side-glance slipped out from beneath them. -And his loose lips, set off by the cosmetics, formed isolated words of -the strange dream-logic created by his half-slumbering brain. -</p> - -<p> -"For beauty, Phaedrus, mark me, beauty alone is both divine and visible -at once; and thus it is the road of the sensuous; it is, little -Phaedrus, the road of the artist to the spiritual. But do you now -believe, my dear, that they can ever attain wisdom and true human -dignity for whom the road to the spiritual leads through the senses? Or -do you believe rather (I leave the choice to you) that this is a -pleasant but perilous road, a really wrong and sinful road, which -necessarily leads astray? For you must know that we poets cannot take -the road of beauty without having Eros join us and set himself up as our -leader. Indeed, we may even be heroes after our fashion, and hardened -warriors, though we be like women, for passion is our exaltation, and our -desire must remain love—that is our pleasure and our disgrace. You -now see, do you not, that we poets cannot be wise and dignified? That we -necessarily go astray, necessarily remain lascivious, and adventurers in -emotion? The mastery of our style is all lies and foolishness, our -renown and honour are a farce, the confidence of the masses in us is -highly ridiculous, and the training of the public and of youth through -art is a precarious undertaking which should be forbidden. For how -indeed could he be a fit instructor who is born with a natural leaning -towards the precipice? We might well disavow it and reach after dignity, -but wherever we turn it attracts us. Let us, say, renounce the -dissolvent of knowledge, since knowledge, Phaedrus, has no dignity or -strength. It is aware, it understands and pardons, but without reserve -and form. It feels sympathy with the precipice, it is the precipice. -This then we abandon with firmness, and from now on our efforts matter -only by their yield of beauty, or in other words, simplicity, greatness, -and new rigour, form, and a second type of openness. But form and -openness, Phaedrus, lead to intoxication and to desire, lead the noble -perhaps into sinister revels of emotion which his own beautiful rigour -rejects as infamous, lead to the precipice, yes they too lead to the -precipice. They lead us poets there, I say, since we cannot force -ourselves, since we can merely let ourselves out And now I am going, -Phaedrus. You stay here; and when you no longer see me, then you go -too." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -A few days later, as Gustav von Aschenbach was not feeling well, he left -the beach hotel at a later hour in the morning than usual. He had to -fight against certain attacks of vertigo which were only partially -physical and were accompanied by a pronounced malaise, a feeling of -bafflement and hopelessness—while he was not certain whether this had -to do with conditions outside him or with his own nature. In the lobby -he noticed a large pile of luggage ready for shipment; he asked the -door-keeper who it was that was leaving, and heard in answer the Polish -title which he had learned secretly. He accepted this without any -alteration of his sunken features, with that curt elevation of the head -by which one acknowledges something he does not need to know. Then he -asked, "When?" The answer was, "After lunch." He nodded, and went to the -beach. -</p> - -<p> -It was not very inviting. Rippling patches of rain retreated across the -wide flat water separating the beach from the first long sand-bank. An -air of autumn, of things past their prime, seemed to lie over the -pleasure spot which had once been so alive with colour and was now -almost abandoned. The sand was no longer kept clean. A camera, seemingly -without an owner, stood on its tripod by the edge of the sea; and a -black cloth thrown over it was flapping noisily in the wind. -</p> - -<p> -Tadzio, with the three or four companions still left, was moving about -to the right in front of his family's cabin. And midway between the sea -and the row of bathing houses, lying back in his chair with a robe over -his knees, Aschenbach looked at him once more. The game, which was not -being supervised since the women were probably occupied with -preparations for the journey, seemed to have no rules, and it was -degenerating. The stocky boy with the sleek black hair who was called -Jaschu had been angered and blinded by sand flung in his face. He forced -Tadzio into a wrestling match which quickly ended in the fall of the -beauty, who was weaker. But as though in the hour of parting the servile -feelings of the inferior had turned to merciless brutality and were -trying to get vengeance for a long period of slavery, the victor did not -let go of the boy underneath, but knelt on his back and pressed his face -so persistently into the sand that Tadzio, already breathless from the -struggle, was in danger of strangling. His attempts to shake off the -weight were fitful; for moments they stopped entirely and were resumed -again as mere twitchings. Enraged, Aschenbach was about to spring to the -rescue, when the torturer finally released his victim. Tadzio, very -pale, raised himself halfway and sat motionless for several minutes, -resting on one arm, with rumpled hair and glowering eyes. Then he stood -up completely, and moved slowly away. They called him, cheerfully at -first, then anxiously and imploringly; he did not listen. The swarthy -boy, who seemed to regret his excesses immediately afterwards, caught up -with him and tried to placate him. A movement of the shoulder put him at -his distance. Tadzio went down obliquely to the water. He was barefoot, -and wore his striped linen suit with the red bow. -</p> - -<p> -He lingered on the edge of the water with his head down, drawing figures -in the wet sand with one toe; then he went into the shallows, which did -not cover his knees in the deepest place, crossed them leisurely, and -arrived at the sand-bank. He stood there a moment, his face turned to -the open sea; soon after, he began stepping slowly to the left along the -narrow stretch of exposed ground. Separated from the mainland by the -expanse of water, separated from his companions by a proud moodiness, he -moved along, a strongly isolated and unrelated figure with fluttering -hair—placed out there in the sea, the wind, against the vague mists. -He stopped once more to look around. And suddenly, as though at some -recollection, some impulse, with one hand on his hip he turned the upper -part of his body in a beautiful twist which began from the base—and -he looked over his shoulder towards the shore. The watcher sat there, as he -had sat once before when for the first time these twilight-grey eyes had -turned at the doorway and met his own. His head, against the back of the -chair, had slowly followed the movements of the boy walking yonder. Now, -simultaneously with this glance it rose and sank on his breast, so that -his eyes looked out from underneath, while his face took on the loose, -inwardly relaxed expression of deep sleep. But it seemed to him as -though the pale and lovely lure out there were smiling to him, nodding -to him; as though, removing his hand from his hip, he were signalling to -come out, were vaguely guiding towards egregious promises. And, as often -before, he stood up to follow him. -</p> - -<p> -Some minutes passed before any one hurried to the aid of the man who had -collapsed into one corner of his chair. He was brought to his room. And -on the same day a respectfully shocked world received the news of his -death. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><i>The End</i></h4> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH IN VENICE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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