A compilation of excerpts from the main passages in which ‘The Fear’ is discussed in Kafka’s letter’s to Milena. Some passages of especial interest to me were:
- Letter of Milena to Max Brod, Jan.-Feb., 1921. Maybe the most direct statement about ‘the fear’, Milena calls it a fear of all that’s “shamelessly alive.” (How does this comport with Kafka’s idea of what the fear is?)
- Letter of Kafka to Milena, Aug., 1920. Kafka’s most involved statement, the letter contrasts fear and longing and discusses a casual affair Kafka had with a shop girl.
- Letter of Kafka to Milena, Aug. 1920. Kafka mentions that his story ‘The Judgment’ has very much to do with the fear. (Another of his now published works mentioned in this connection is his letter to his father –see the letters of June & Aug. 1920.)
Elsewhere, he calls it the fear “inherent in all faith since time began” and in another place compares it to a spouse. The translator is Philip Boehm; the page numbers refer to the Shocken edition.
[43, June 12, 1920] “I cannot determine whether you still want to see me after my letters of Wednesday and Thursday; I know my relationship to you (you belong to me, even if I should never see you again) […] these I know, insofar as they do not fall into the indistinct realm of fear, but I don’t know your relationship to me at all; this belongs entirely to fear. Nor do you know me — I repeat this, Milena.”
[45, June 13, 1920] “(understand, Milena, my age, the fact that I am used up, and, above all, my fear, and understand your youth, your vivacity, your courage. And my fear is actually growing, since it is a sign of my retreating from the world; which causes the world in turn to exert more pressure, which causes a further increase in fear; your courage, however, indicates an advance, hence a decrease in pressure, hence an increase in courage)
[45, the same letter] “But whenever these letters come, Milena […], then, Milena, I literally start to shake as if under an alarm bell; I am unable to read them and naturally I read them anyway, the way an animal dying of thirst drinks, and with that comes fear and more fear; I look for a piece of furniture to crawl under; trembling, totally unaware of the world, I pray you might fly back out of the window the way you came storming in inside your letter. After all, I can’t keep a storm in my room; in these letters you undoubtedly have the magnificent head of Medusa, the snakes of terror are quivering about your head so wildly, while the snakes of fear quiver even more wildly about my own.”
[pp. 56, June 23, 1920] “The only thing I do fear –and I fear this with my eyes wide open, I am drowning in this fear, helpless (if I could sleep as deeply as I sink into fear I would no longer be alive) — is this inner conspiracy against myself (which the letter to my father will help you understand better, although not entirely, since the letter is much too focused on its purpose), which is based on the fact that I, who am not even the pawn of a pawn in the great chess game, far from it, now want to take the place of the queen, against all the rules and to the confusion of the game– I, the pawn of a pawn, a piece which doesn’t even exist, which isn’t even in the game– and next I may want to take the king’s place as well or even the whole board. Moreover, if that were what I really wanted, it would have to happen in some other, even more inhuman way. That’s why the suggestion I made to you means more to me than it does to you. At the moment it’s the only thing beyond doubt, the only thing not sicklied over, the only thing which makes me unconditionally happy.”
[86-7, July 15, 1920 / whole letter] “Just briefly before I leave for the office: I didn’t want to say anything, at least now, while you are fighting this terrible battle- I’ve been choking on it for 3 days — but it’s impossible not to, I have to, after all it’s my battle as well. You may have noticed that I haven’t slept for several nights. It’s simply the “fear.” It really is stronger than I am, it tosses me around at will, I don’t know up from down anymore or right from left. This time it began with Stasa. There truly is a sign above her saying: “Abandon all hope ye who enter here,” Besides that, there were 2,3 remarks which got mixed up in your last letter. These remarks made me happy, but only despairingly so, since although what you say about the fear is very persuasive –to mind, heart, and body all at once– I have an even deeper conviction– I don’t know exactly where- which evidently nothing can persuade. Finally –this really contributed to weaken me– the wonderful calming-uncalming effect left by your physical presence is wearing off as the days go by. If only you were already here! As it is I have no one, no one here except the fear, together we roll through the nights locked in each other’s arms. This fear is really something very serious which strangely enough was always only directed at the future, no, that’s not right. Moreover, it is partly explained by the fact that it constantly forces me to realize I must admit–and this is a great confession–that Milena, too, is only human, What you say about this is really very beautiful and kind–having hear that I would want to hear anything else; nevertheless, to maintain that the stakes here are not very high is a very questionable assertion. After all, this fear is not merely my private fear –although it also, terribly enough– but it is also the fear inherent in all faith since time began.
………..Just having written you that cools my head.”
[pp.90, July 16, 1920] “There was no letter today, but I’m not afraid, Milena, please don’t misunderstand me; I’m never afraid about you, even if it sometimes seems that way and it often does –it’s simply a weakness, a mood of the heart, which knows exactly why it’s beating nevertheless. Giants have their weaknesses as well; I believe even Hercules fainted once. With my teeth clenched, however, and with your eyes before I can endure anything: distance, anxiety, worry, letterlessness. […] To continue what I was saying above: With you in my heart I can bear everything, and even if I did write that the days without letters were horrifying, it’s not true; they were just horribly difficult — the boat was heavy and it’s draught was horribly deep, but on your tide it floated nonetheless. There’s only one thing I cannot bear without your express help, Milena: the “fear.” I’m much too weak for that, it’s so immense I cannot see beyond it– and this monstrous flood is washing me away.
………..“What you say about Jarmila is precisely one of those weakness of the heart; your heart stops being true to me just for a moment and that’s when such an idea pops into your head. In this sense are we still two different people? And is my ‘fear’ much different than the fear of self-abuse?”
[96-97, July 19, 1920] Fourth, all the doubts you so quietly express concerning the trip to Prague are correct. ‘Correct’ is also what I wired, although there it referred to speaking with your husband, and that was indeed the only correct thing to do. This morning, for instance, I suddenly began to fear, to fear out of love, to fear in anguish that you might come to Prague, misled by some trivial, accidental whim.”
[100-01, July 21, 1920] “Furthermore: it’s not a question of what will happen later on, the only certainty is that I cannot live apart from you without completely submitting to fear, giving it even more than it demands, and I do this voluntarily, with delight, I pour myself into it.
………..“You are right to reproach me in the name of fear for my behavior in Vienna, but this fear is particularly mysterious; I do not know its inner laws, only its hand on my throat –and that really is the most terrible thing I have ever experienced or could experience.
………..“Perhaps the logical conclusion is that we’re both married: you in Vienna, I to my fear in Prague, in which case you’re not the only one tugging vain at marriage. For you see, Milena, if you had been completely convinced by me in Vienna (even agreeing to take that step of which you were unsure), you would no longer in Vienna in spite of everything: oor rather in that case there would not be an ‘in spite of everything’ — you’d simply be in Prague. Moreover, everything you console yourself with in your last letter really is mere consolation. Don’t you agree?
………..“Had you come to Prague right away or had you at least decided right away to do so, it would still not have served as any proof for you — I don’t need any proofs for you; there is nothing in my mind as clear and certain as you. but it would have been a tremendous proof for me and this is what I’m missing now. Occasionally the fear feeds on this lack as well.
………..“In fact it may even be much worse and I myself, the ‘savior,’ may be tying you down in Vienna like no one else has ever done.”
[pp.146-148, Aug 8-9, 1920] “I’ll try answering the question of ‘strach–toucha [footnote: fear–longing]’. I probably won’t succeed in my first attempt, but if I keep coming back to it, I may manage after several letters. It would help if you read my (incidentally bad and unnecessary) letter to my father. Maybe I’ll take it along to Gmund.
………..“If we restrict ‘fear’ and ‘longing’ the way you do in your last letter, the question is not easy, but very simple to answer. In that case I ONLY have ‘fear.’ It’s like this:
………..“I recall the first night. At the time we lived in the Zeltnergasse, opposite a clothing store, a shopgirl was always in the door. I was constantly pacing back and forth in my room upstairs, a little over 20 years old, nervously preparing for the first State examination, trying to cram facts that made no sense to me into my head. It was summer, very hot, probably this time of year, completely unbearable. I kept stopping in front of the window, my mouth full of disgusting Roman law; finally we came to an understanding using sign language. I was to pick her up at 8:00, but when I went down that even somebody else was already there. That didn’t really change much, however; I was afraid of the whole world, hence afraid of this man as well; I also would have been afraid of him had he not been there. Although the girl did indeed take his arm, she nonetheless gave signs for me to follow them. This way we came to the Schutzeninsel, where we all drank beer; I sat at the next table. They then walked to the girl’s apartment, slowly, with me in tow; it was somewhere near the Fleischmarkt. There the man took his leave, the girl ran into the house, I waited for a while for her to reappear and then we went to a hotel on the Kleinseite. It was all enticing, exciting, and disgusting, even before we reached the hotel, and it wasn’t any different inside. And as we walked home over the Karlsbrucke toward morning –it was still hot and beautiful– I was actually happy, but this happiness was only because my eternally grieving body had given me some peace at last, and above all because the whole thing had not been more disgusting, more dirty than it was. I met the girl once again –2 nights later, I think — everything went as well as the first time, but then right away I left for the summer holidays. In the country I played around a bit with another girl, and could no longer bear the sight of the shopgirl in Prague; I never spoke to her again, she had become (from my point of view) my evil enemy, although in reality she was friendly and good-natured. She kept on following me with her uncomprehending eyes. And although the girl had done something slightly disgusting in the hotel (not worth mentioning), had said something slightly obscene ( not worth mentioning), I don’t mean to say this was the sole reason for my animosity (in fact, I’m sure it wasn’t); nonetheless the memory remained. I knew then and there I would never forget it and at the same time I knew –or thought I knew– that deep down, this disgust and filth were a necessary part of the whole, and it was precisely this (which she had indicated to me by one slight action, one small word) which had drawn me with such amazing force into this hotel, which I would have otherwise avoided with all my remaining strength.
………..And it’s stayed that way ever since. My body, often quiet for years, would then again be shaken by this longing for some very particular, trivial, disgusting thing, something slightly repulsive, embarrassing, obscene, which I always found even in the best cases — some insignificant odor, a little bit of sulfur, a little bit of hell. This urge had something of the eternal Jew — senselessly being drawn along, senselessly wandering through a senselessly obscene world.
………..On the other hand there were times when my body wasn’t calm, when actually nothing was calm, but when I nonetheless felt no pressure whatsoever; life was good, peaceful, it’s only unease was hope (do you know a better one?). I was always alone at such times, for as long as they lasted. Now for the first time in my life I am encountering such times when I am not alone. This is why not only your physical proximity but you yourself are quieting-disquieting. This is why I don’t have any longing for smut (during the first half of my stay in Meran I kept making plans day and night –against my own clear will– about how I could seduce the chambermaid– and even worse. Toward the end of my stay a very willing girl ran right into my arms; I more or less had to translate her words into my own language before I could even begin to understand her). More to the point, I just don’t see any smut — nothing of the kind that stimulates from the outside, but there is everything that can bring forth life from within; in short, there’s some of the air breathed in Paradise before the Fall. Enough of this air that there is no ‘longing,’ but not enough that there isn’t any ‘fear.’ — So now you know. And that’s also why I ‘feared’ a night in Gmund, but this was only the usual ‘fear’ (which unfortunately is quite sufficient) I have in Prague as well; it wasn’t any special fear of Gmund.
[pp.150, Aug 9, 1920] ” Your most beautiful letters (and that’s saying a lot, since in their entirety as well as in almost every line, they are the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me) are the ones where you accept me ‘fear’ as justified and simulatneously attempt to explain why it isn’t necessary. Because deep down I also resemble a defense lawyer whom it has bribed: it really is a part of me and perhaps the best part. And since it’s the best part it may also be the only part you love. What else about me could be so loveable? But this is worthy of love.
………..“And when you once asked how I could have called that Saturday ‘good’ with this fear inside my heart, it isn’t difficult to explain. Because I love you (you see, I do love you, you dimwit, my love engulfs you the way the sea loves a tiny pebble on its bed– and may I be the pebble with you, heaven permitting) I love the whole world […]
[173. August 28, 1920] [Of The judgment]. “The translation of the final sentence is very good. Every sentence, every word, every –if I may say so– music in that story is connected with the ‘fear.’ It was then, during one long night, that the wound broke open for the first time, and in my opinion the translation catches this association exactly, with the magic hand which is yours.”
[194. September 14, 1920]. “This couldn’t last. Although you were stroking me with the kindest of hands, you had to recognize certain peculiarities pointing to the forest, my true home and origin. Next came the necessary and necessarily repeated discussions about the ‘fear,’ which tortured me (and you, but you were innocent), to the point of touching my raw nerve; the feeling kept growing inside me what an unclean pest I was for you, disturbing you everywhere, always getting in your way.”
[219. November 1920]. ” I keep trying to convey something that cannot be conveyed, to explain something that cannot be explained, something in my bones, which can only be experience in these same bones. In essence it may be nothing more than that fear we have already discussed so often, but extended to everything, fear of the greatest things as well as the smallest, fear, convulsive fear of pronouncing a single word. On the other hand, maybe this fear isn’t simply fear, but also longing for something greater than anything that can inspire fear.
………..“‘Dashed to pieces on me’ is utter nonsense. Only I am at fault, because there was too little truth on my part, still far too little truth, still mostly lies, lies told out of fear of myself and fear of people […]”
[248, 249/ Milena to Max Brod, Jan-Feb, 1921]. “I understand his fear down in my deepest nerve. Furthermore, it was always there, before he met me, all the time he didn’t know me. I knew his fear before I knew him. I armed myself against it by understanding it. In the four days Frank was next to me, he lost it. We laughed about it. I know for certain that no sanatorium will succeed in curing him. He will never be healthy, Max, as long as he has this fear. And no psychic reinforcement can overcome this fear, because the fear prevents the reinforcement. This fear doesn’t just apply to me; it relates to everything that is shamelessly alive, also to the flesh, for example. Flesh is too uncovered; he can’t stand the sight of it. This is what I was able to dispel back then. Whenever he sensed this fear, he would look me in the eye, and we would wait a while, as if our feet hurt or we had to catch our breath, and after a moment it would pass […]
[The Same.] “If I could have brought myself to go with him, he would have been able to live happily with me. But it’s only today I realize all of this. At the time, I was an ordinary woman, like all women in the world, a small, impulsive female. And that is what led to his fear. It was correct. Is it possible for this man to feel anything that isn’t correct? He knows ten thousand times more about the world than everyone else. This fear of his was correct.”
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