Part I
The Violation of Nature
Max Weber was born on 21 April 1864 in Erfurt, the first of eight children. His brother Alfred, with whom he repeatedly argued throughout his life, was four years younger. In 1869 the Weber family moved to Charlottenburg, when the Berlin city council appointed the father, Max Weber, senior, as a paid councillor. At the age of two Max Weber, junior, fell ill with meningitis; it took several painful years for him to be cured of it. His father pursued a dual career, as head of the Berlin building department and as a National Liberal representative in the Reichstag and the Prussian parliament, while his mother Helene did voluntary work for relief of the poor. At that time a number of leading academics and National Liberals used to meet in the Weber home. In 1882 Max Weber passed his Abitur and went to study in Heidelberg, then in 1884 switched to law and economics in Berlin. In between he performed his military service in Alsace. In 1889 he gained his doctorate with a thesis in the history of law, concerning North Italian trading companies in the Middle Ages. In 1891 he qualified as a university lecturer with a work on Roman agrarian history. Having joined the influential Verein fĂŒr Sozialpolitik in 1888, he was commissioned by it in 1890 to evaluate the material on the German territories east of the Elbe contained in a country-wide survey of farm-workers; this resulted in 1892 in his first major work, which immediately made a name for him. On 20 September 1893 he married his second cousin Marianne Schnitger (b. 1870). In 1894 he accepted the offer of a chair in economics at Freiburg, where his inaugural address, âThe Nation State and Economic Policyâ (13 May 1895), attracted attention because of its combination of brusque nationalism and attacks on the big landlords east of the Elbe. In 1897 he accepted an offer in Heidelberg. On 14 June 1897 he provoked a violent quarrel with his father by accusing him of making demands on the mother for his own sel fish reasons. When the father died on 10 August 1897, there had been no reconciliation. In the summer of 1898 ânervousâ disorders made Max Weber increasingly incapable of work, and in 1899 he was excused from further teaching duties. In 1903, at his own request, he was released from academic service.
1
Great Mother and Harsh Nature: A Precocious Youth on the Margins of Berlin
âFamily communismâ: the primal form of society
The family, which in traditional conceptions is part of the natural order but for modern social science only appears to be so, remained Weberâs most stable lifeworld, although shortly before his own breakdown he wrecked his parentsâ marriage in a violent rage. All other communities â academic faculties, political parties, civil associations â detained him only for a time. This fundamental experience marked his thinking. The historian Friedrich Meinecke, who knew Weber well, already pointed out that he âcould be thoroughly understood only on the ground of his familyâ (WzG 143f.). The microcosm of the family was all the more significant for him precisely because the wider macrocosm was brimming with irreconcilable struggle and coldly rational calculation; it remained a source of great warmth and trust, whatever the tensions and quarrels, and offered many gifts in which there was no thought of anything in return.
For Weber, then, âdomesticâ or âfamilyâ communism had something primeval and homely that distinguished it from political communism. âSocietyâ, in the sense of a specific gathering of people crystallized in the family (independent of state institutions), was a primary experience â although, to be sure, it was not only natural instincts but also capital that held the family together. âA domestic community binds only if it is geared to indisputably common tasksâ, Weber taught the young Arthur Salz in 1912 (MWG II/7â1, 428). Yet for Weber the family never had the mere function of an economic system; it always preserved a vitality of its own. Which was not at all to say that it was a harmonious idyll, as it showed its strength precisely in the midst of a quarrel.
With an eye to the slave barracks of ancient Rome, the 32-year-old Weber let slip a phrase that could have come from an instructor in Catholic social thinking: âMan can develop only in the bosom of the familyâ (K 57). This sounds like a wise aphorism or a well-known and generally applicable law of nature. But Weberâs own parental home was not exactly a bed of roses: his mother did not think twice about interfering in the affairs of her grown-up children, nor they in hers, and letters were routinely passed around â even the âthoroughly intimate correspondenceâ that Max exchanged with Marianne and Helene when he was staying in a sanatorium (MWG II/6, 575). In any event, whereas the young Werner Sombart complained that his parents did not understand him, and that even their goodness made him feel unhappy (âI felt at ease only with others of my ageâ),1 Weberâs experience of life as a young man sharply differed from that of his nearest contemporaries in the world of social science, and this difference affected his whole intellectual-spiritual bearing. The âcrisis of the familyâ â a favourite theme of the early sociologists, especially the French2 â was for Weber neither a major sociological issue nor a personal experience.
âFamilyâ and its various compounds appear 786 times on the German CD-ROM edition of Weberâs works, and âkinship groupâ [Sippe] 736 times. Sometimes in his writings he explicitly refers to his own family experiences. Lujo Brentano, who knew from his own merchant family of Italian origin that Catholicism and capitalism can at best only tolerate each other, once remarked with a touch of derision: âIf Max Weber, to prove the correctness of his views, can adduce observations from the business circle close to him, then perhaps I may be allowed to do the sameâ (R 65). Weberâs notes to the later edition of The Protestant Ethic reveal how much this criticism wounded him, although the brilliant Brentano was one of the colleagues with whom he restrained his quarrelsome proclivities.
In the web of an extended family
In a popular romantic view of society, the old extended family including grandparents and relations has shrunk in modern times to the nuclear family consisting only of parents and children. On closer inspection, we can see that the nuclear family was also a normal phenomenon in earlier times. Max Weber, however, experienced the intense (and often tense) cohesion of an extended family, of that whole web of kinship relations which is so confusing for anyone outside it.
Even his loves remained within the family circle. The first love of his youth was âKlĂ€rchenâ, his sister Klara, whom he sometimes tenderly called âKĂ€tzchenâ (kitten) and used to kiss on the mouth; their mother, feeling unmoved at Maxâs wedding, poked fun at Klaraâs weakness for her eldest brother by performing a sketch in which she despairingly sang: âAbandoned, abandoned, oh abandoned am I â such must be my grief as the â first womanâ I once was âŠâ3 A certain brutal candour was part of the Weber family style. Maxâs first semi-fiancĂ©e, Emmy (âEmmerlingâ) Baumgarten, was his cousin; Marianne was his second cousin. Indeed, when he fell in love with Else JaffĂ©, she was already family in the wider sense, as Marianneâs close friend for many years and Alfred Weberâs companion in life â which did not exactly make the situation easier. And Mina Tobler had for a long time been in and out of the house when she and Max became physically close: she figures in Marianneâs letters as âTobelchenâ. Family intimacy was part of love for Max Weber, and in his writings the erotic appeal of the exotic is at most reflected through the Eastern religions. He is the best illustration of Freudâs idea that the libido is originally incestuous.
Intellectual and economic bourgeois combined
Marianne Weber the idealist was fond of presenting her husband as a scion of the German BildungsbĂŒrgertum. In reality, however, Max Weber was at least as much an offspring of the economic bourgeoisie, and this origin also left its mark on his consciousness. He developed a positive revulsion from the world of officialdom and was always aware that the material foundation for most of his adult life was not a state income but an annual yield on capital. The professorships he held were all in economics, and he liked to make use of his familyâs insider knowledge on economic issues. As Marianne emphasizes, he left no doubt âthat he valued the qualities of the successful businessman and merchant at least as highly as those of the academic and littĂ©rateurâ.4 He liked to demonstrate that he had not developed any prejudices towards business people.
It was actually a characteristic feature of the Weber family that it combined elements of the BildungsbĂŒrgertum and the economic bourgeoisie. The Fallenstein grandfather, son of a headmaster who fell on hard times, had already improved his finances by marrying the wealthy heiress Emilie Souchay and built that spacious villa on the Neckar, with its magnificent views over the ruins of Heidelberg Castle, which became Maxâs and Marianneâs home in 1910, replete with memories of the family history. Max knew that ânine-tenthsâ of his parentsâ fortune came from âMotherâs sideâ (B 629); her power was based on that fact. Helene Weber was one of the inheritors of the Huguenot Souchay dynasty, which had grown rich through commerce, a global family network stretching as far as Canada, South Africa and Indonesia.5 In Max Weberâs time, Carl David Weber â the elder brother of Max Weber, senior and head of the Oerlinghausen textile company â was the richest man in the family, but his wealth was mostly self-acquired and did not derive from the family legacy to which Maxâs father also had an entitlement. Only through Marianne, the granddaughter of the company head, did Max gain a share of the assets after the latterâs death.
A cerebral childhood
When he was two Weber fell ill with meningitis, and it was several years before his health was reasonably well restored. At the age of thirty, he wrote to his mother recalling âthe long years in which I was part physically, part mentally your problem childâ.6 In those days, the brain infection was especially dangerous for children, with a death rate between 70 and 100 per cent; the aetiology was unknown and medicine could offer no help. Even when the cause was discovered in 1887, it took another fifty years for a successful treatment to be developed. Attitudes influenced by bacteriology identified meningitis as the âclassical secondary illnessâ, supposedly resulting from a tubercular lung infection or parental syphilis. And, as the second of these factors was long regarded as the main culprit, Maxâs illness was a reason for suspicion about his fatherâs widely reputed âlust for lifeâ. As late as 1923 a standard medical textbook offered a âgraveâ prognosis for chronic meningitis and suggested that most children succumb to hydrocephalus: water on the brain.7 Still today one reads that, âeven with immediate treatment ⊠it is difficult to avoid residual symptoms such as reduced emotional-intellectual agility and affectivity, behavioural phenomena or impulsive disorders.â8 In the early stages, often before the disease is diagnosed, considerable damage to the central nervous system may become apparent.9
In the late nineteenth century, it was feared that a child would be left feeble-minded if he or she survived meningitis. Moreover, Weber already had an âover-largeâ head at birth, and during the illness it grew ânoticeably, while the limbs remained girlishly smallâ. Later, he thought he could remember his head wobbling like an old manâs, âtoo heavy for the childâs delicate stemâ.10 âThe doctor predicted either hydrocephalus or room for a great many things under the arching craniumâ (WB 33). Such contrary prognoses from the boyâs physical proportions! One way or another, anxiously or hopefully, all the attention was focused on Weberâs head.
The child must have sensed the motherâs fear that he would be left mentally deficient. This gave him a strong impetus to demonstrate his normality, and it must have been a huge relief when he began to feel that he was mentally superior to many others of his age and was able, without much effort, to excel at the demands made of him at school. On the other hand, there is no mention in Weber of the typical boyish pranks that men recall in later life with a broad grin on their face.11 As a twenty-year-old, he assured his mother that he had done âsome very light-minded thingsâ â like many students, he lived beyond his means â âbut no wicked pranksâ, for the reason that âI was thinking of youâ (JB 115). But in 1919 he wrote to Else that he had been living a âsecond youthâ with her â âand where did I ever have a â firstâ one?â12 So, we have to doubt whether the adult Weber still felt his virtuous youth to have been such a merit. Later he wanted so much to be a fighter, but he recognized that not too many upright men prove to be war heroes. âIn cases of war, for example, boys who were once punished for fighting or locked up for alcohol abuse or striking a non-commissioned officer are usually considerably more astute and, when the enemy is breathing down their neck, more useful and intrepid than moral cowards who ⊠have behaved respectably for a couple of yearsâ (JB 105).
One typical long-term consequence of childhood meningitis is a weak capacity to remember the period of illness. Presumably this was also the case with Weber. Whereas many other self-aware people like to recall their earliest years, one is struck by the paucity of such memories in Weber; the popular practice of returning in the imagination to a childhood paradise was blocked for him. His recollections appear to take clear shape only with the beginning of his school years. Weberâs lifelong difficulties with his psyche may have something to do with an inability to hold early childhood experiences at a conscious level. Not infrequently, the ancient world in which he lived so intensely functioned as a substitute for the lost memory of childhood.
From the beginning Weber occupied a contradictory position in his family: the problem child, but also the âbig boyâ, the first in a series of eight children (six of whom reached adulthood). This status contained an opportunity for early self-confidence that the young Weber gladly seized. He particularly liked to shower his younger siblings with instructions and admonitions, and to extend an avuncular tenderness toward his sisters. For many years the illness left behind a susceptibility to headaches and cramps, but this was also an invitation to motherly love â especially when conjugal love faded away. âThe young mother now tended her child constantly and never left the house without leaving word as to where she might be foundâ (WB 32). It was thus one of Weberâs primal experiences that illness compels loving attention â most especially, attention to his poor head. The father and mother set examples of two different senses of self: the one, a hedonistâs absorption in himself; the other, a womanâs increasing preparedness to endure suffering. The young Weber would have liked to be as happy as any other child. But the other, maternal opportunity for self-confidence was presented to him at an early age, and for a long time it was the only one he had.
Weberâs angst
A childâs experiences of fear and pleasure leave their mark on the psyche. In many areas, it is not easy to separate fear and pleasure from each other. How did Weber cope with fear? âIâm no hypochondriac!â he assured the ailing Emmy Baumgarten in 1887 (JB 279), but others did not always agree. Later, for all his complaints about his nerves, he cultivated a bearing of personal fearlessness. This led Ernst Nolte to the view that Weber had been immune from any kind of fascism, since the source of fascism is fear â fear of socialism and, more generally, of anything beyond the bounds of tradition.13 It is certainly true that Weber was free of the Wilhelmine-bourgeois fear of social democracy, but all the more was he haunted over the years by fear of the âdemonsâ within himself. His often pointless displays of aggression show that he must have experienced dread without any clear object, even less capable of controlling it because he did not acknowledge it. In 1943, when Eduard Baumgarten once had occasion to glimpse Hitler at close quarters and saw âthe eyes of a startled animal in flightâ, he thought he could remember that Weberâs eyes had been like that when he was in the grip of a blind rage.14 In The Protestant Ethic Weber descri...