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push　the　country　into　civil　war；　and；　above　all；　it　denounced　the　editors　of　the　writers'　weekly　（with　special　emphasis　on　the　tall；　stooped　editor；　Tomas　had　never　met　him；　though　he　knew　his　name　and　had　seen　pictures　of　him）；　who　had　consciously　distorted　his　article　and　used　it　for　their　own　devices；　turning　it　into　a　call　for　counterrevolution：　too　cowardly　to　write　such　an　article　themselves；　they　had　hid　behind　a　naive　doctor。
The　man　from　the　Ministry　saw　the　panic　in　Tomas's　eyes。　He　leaned　over　and　gave　his　knee　a　friendly　pat　under　the　table。　Remember　now；　Doctor；　it's　only　a　sample！　Think　it　over；　and　if　there's　something　you　want　to　change；　I'm　sure　we　can　come　to　an　agreement。　After　all；　it's　your　statement！　
Tomas　held　the　paper　out　to　the　secret　policeman　as　if　he　were　afraid　to　keep　it　in　his　hands　another　second；　as　if　he　were　worried　someone　would　find　his　fingerprints　on　it。
But　instead　of　taking　the　paper；　the　man　from　the　Ministry　spread　his　arms　in　feigned　amazement　（the　same　gesture　the　Pope　uses　to　bless　the　crowds　from　his　balcony）。　Now　why　do　a　thing　like　that；　Doctor？　Keep　it。　Think　it　over　calmly　at　home。　
Tomas　shook　his　head　and　patiently　held　the　paper　in　his　outstretched　hand。　In　the　end；　the　man　from　the　Ministry　was　forced　to　abandon　his　papal　gesture　and　take　the　paper　back。
Tomas　was　on　the　point　of　telling　him　emphatically　that　he　would　neither　write　nor　sign　any　text　whatever；　but　at　the　last　moment　he　changed　his　tone　and　said　mildly；　I'm　no　illiterate；　am　I？　Why　should　I　sign　something　I　didn't　write　myself？　
Very　well；　then；　Doctor。　Let's　do　it　your　way。　You　write　it　up　yourself；　and　we'll　go　over　it　together。　You　can　use　what　you've　just　read　as　a　model。　
Why　didn't　Tomas　give　the　secret　policeman　an　immediate　and　unconditional　no？
This　is　what　probably　went　through　his　head：　Besides　using　a　statement　like　that　to　demoralize　the　nation　in　general　（which　is　clearly　the　Russian　strategy）；　the　police　could　have　a　concrete　goal　in　his　case：　they　might　be　gathering　evidence　for　a　trial　against　the　editors　of　the　weekly　that　had　published　Tomas's　article。　If　that　was　so；　they　would　need　his　statement　for　the　hearing　and　for　the　smear　campaign　the　press　would　conduct　against　them。　Were　he　to　refuse　flatly；　on　principle；　there　was　always　the　danger　that　the　police　would　print　the　prepared　statement　over　his　signature；　whether　he　gave　his　consent　or　not。　No　newspaper　would　dare　publish　his　denial。　No　one　in　the　world　would　believe　that　he　hadn't　written　or　signed　it。　People　derived　too　much　pleasure　from　seeing　their　fellow　man　morally　humiliated　to　spoil　that　pleasure　by　hearing　out　an　explanation。
By　giving　the　police　the　hope　that　he　would　write　a　text　of　his　own；　he　gained　a　bit　of　time。　The　very　next　day　he　resigned　from　the　clinic；　assuming　（correctly）　that　after　he　had　descended　voluntarily　to　the　lowest　rung　of　the　social　ladder　（a　descent　being　made　by　thousands　of　intellectuals　in　other　fields　at　the　time）；　the　police　would　have　no　more　hold　over　him　and　he　would　cease　to　interest　them。　Once　he　had　reached　the　lowest　rung　on　the　ladder；　they　would　no　longer　be　able　to　publish　a　statement　in　his　name；　for　the　simple　reason　that　no　one　would　accept　it　as　genuine。　Humiliating　public　statements　are　associated　exclusively　with　the　signatories'　rise；　not　fall。
But　in　Tomas's　country；　doctors　are　state　employees；　and　the　state　may　or　may　not　release　them　from　its　service。　The　official　with　whom　Tomas　negotiated　his　resignation　knew　him　by　name　and　reputation　and　tried　to　talk　him　into　staying　on。　Tomas　suddenly　realized　that　he　was　not　at　all　sure　he　had　made　the　proper　choice；　but　he　felt　bound　to　it　by　then　by　an　unspoken　vow　of　fidelity；　so　he　stood　fast。　And　that　is　how　he　became　a　window　washer。

7
Leaving　Zurich　for　Prague　a　few　years　earlier；　Tomas　had　quietly　said　to　himself；　Es　muss　sein！　He　was　thinking　of　his　love　for　Tereza。　No　sooner　had　he　crossed　the　border；　however；　than　he　began　to　doubt　whether　it　actually　did　have　to　be。　Later；　lying　next　to　Tereza；　he　recalled　that　he　had　been　led　to　her　by　a　chain　of　laughable　coincidences　that　took　place　seven　years　earlier　（when　the　chief　surgeon's　sciatica　was　in　its　early　stages）　and　were　about　to　return　him　to　a　cage　from　which　he　would　be　unable　to　escape。
Does　that　mean　his　life　lacked　any　Es　muss　sein！；　any　overriding　necessity？　In　my　opinion；　it　did　have　one。　But　it　was　not　love；　it　was　his　profession。　He　had　come　to　medicine　not　by　coincidence　or　calculation　but　by　a　deep　inner　desire。
Insofar　as　it　is　possible　to　divide　people　into　categories；　the　surest　criterion　is　the　deep…seated　desires　that　orient　them　to　one　or　another　lifelong　activity。　Every　Frenchman　is　different。　But　all　actors　the　world　over　are　similar—in　Paris；　Prague；　or　the　back　of　beyond。　An　actor　is　someone　who　in　early　childhood　consents　to　exhibit　himself　for　the　rest　of　his　life　to　an　anonymous　public。　Without　that　basic　consent；　which　has　nothing　to　do　with　talent；　which　goes　deeper　than　talent；　no　one　can　become　an　actor。　Similarly；　a　doctor　is　someone　who　consents　to　spend　his　life　involved　with　human　bodies　and　all　that　they　entail。　That　basic　consent　（and　not　talent　or　skill）　enables　him　to　enter　the　dissecting　room　during　the　first　year　of　medical　school　and　persevere　for　the　requisite　number　of　years。
Surgery　takes　the　basic　imperative　of　the　medical　profession　to　its　outermost　border；　where　the　human　makes　contact　with　the　divine。　When　a　person　is　clubbed　violently　on　the　head；　he　collapses　and　stops　breathing。　Some　day；　he　will　stop　breathing　anyway。　Murder　simply　hastens　a　bit　what　God　will　eventually　see　to　on　His　own。　God；　it　may　be　assumed；　took　murder　into　account；　He　did　not　take　surgery　into　account。　He　never　suspected　that　someone　would　dare　to　stick　his　hand　into　the　mechanism　He　had　invented；　wrapped　carefully　in　skin；　and　sealed　away　from　human　eyes。　When　Tomas　first　positioned　his　scalpel　on　the　skin　of　a　man　asleep　under　an　anesthetic；　then　breached　the　skin　with　a　decisive　incision；　and　finally　cut　it　open　with　a　precise　and　even　stroke　（as　if　it　were　a　piece　of　fabric—a　coat；　a　skirt；　a　curtain）；　he　experienced　a　brief　but　intense　feeling　of　blasphemy。　Then　again；　that　was　what　attracted　him　to　it！　That　was　the　Es　muss　sein！　rooted　deep　inside　him；　and　it　was　planted　there　not　by　chance；　not　by　the　chief's　sciatica；　or　by　anything　external。
But　how　could　he　take　something　so　much　a　part　of　him　and　cast　it　off　so　fast；　so　forcefully；　and　so　lightly？
He　would　respond　that　he　did　it　so　as　not　to　let　the　police　misuse　him。　But　to　be　quite　frank；　even　if　it　was　theoretically　possible　（and　even　if　a　number　of　cases　have　actually　occurred）；　it　was　not　too　likely　that　the　police　would　make　public　a　false　statement　over　his　signature。
Granted；　a　man　has　a　right　to　fear　dangers　that　are　less　than　likely　to　occur。　Granted；　he　was　annoyed　with　himself　and　at　his　clumsiness；　and　desired　to　avoid　further　contact　with　the　police　and　the　concomitant　feeling　of　helplessness。　And　granted；　he　had　lost　his　profession　anyway；　because　the　mechanical　aspirin…medicine　he　practiced　at　the　clinic　had　nothing　in　common　with　his　concept　of　medicine。　Even　so；　the　way　he　rushed　into　his　decision　seems　rather　odd　to　me。　Could　it　perhaps　conceal　something　else；　something　deeper　that　escaped　his　reasoning？

8
Even　though　he　came　to　love　Beethoven　through　Tereza；　Tomas　was　not　particularly　knowledgeable　about　music；　and　I　doubt　that　he　knew　the　true　story　behind　Beethoven's　famous　Muss　es　sein？　Es　muss　sein！　motif。
This　is　how　it　goes：　A　certain　Dembscher　owed　Beethoven　fifty　florins；　and　when　the　composer；　who　was　chronically　short　of　funds；　reminded　him　of　the　debt；　Dembscher　heaved　a　mournful　sigh　and　said；　Muss　es　sein？　To　which　Beethoven　replied；　with　a　hearty　laugh；　Es　muss　sein！　and　immediately　jotted　down　these　words　and　their　melody。　On　this　realistic　motif　he　then　composed　a　canon　for　four　voices：　three　voices　sing　Es　muss　sein；　es　muss　sein；　ja；　ja；　ja；　ja！　（It　must　be；　it　must　be；　yes；　yes；　yes；　yes！）；　and　the　fourth　voice　chimes　in　with　Heraus　mit　dem　Beutel！　（Out　with　the　purse！）。
A　year　later；　the　same　motif　showed　up　as　the　basis　for　the　fourth　movement　of　the　last　quartet；　Opus　155。　By　that　time；　Beethoven　had　forgotten　about　Dembscher's　purse。　The　words　Es　muss　sein！　had　acquired　a　much　more　solemn　ring；　they　seemed　to　issue　directly　from　the　lips　of　Fate。　In　Kant's　language；　even　Good　morning；　suitably　pronounced；　can　take　the　shape　of　a　metaphysical　thesis。　German　is　a　language　of　heavy　words。　Es　muss　sein！　was　no　longer　a　joke；　it　had　become　der　schwer　gefasste　Entschluss　（the　difficult　or　weighty　resolution）。
So　Beethoven　turned　a　frivolous　inspiration　into　a　serious　quartet；　a　joke　into　metaphysical　truth。　It　is　an　interesting　tale　of　light　going　to　heavy　or；　as　Parmenides　would　have　it；　positive　going　to　negative。　Yet　oddly　enough；　the　transformation　fails　to　surprise　us。　We　would　have　been　shocked；　on　the　other　hand；　if　Beethoven　had　transformed　the　seriousness　of　his　quartet　into　the　trifling　joke　of　a　four…voice　canon　about　Dembscher's　purse。　Had　he　done　so；　however；　he　would　have　been　in　the　spirit　of　Parmenides　and　made　he