H. Adler - The Wall

“Don’t defend yourself. I know that you’ve taken advantage of the fact that we like you, my husband and I, but the Saubermanns are not to be done ill by. Not by anyone. They have become ever more wealthy, and they do a great deal. People fed through honest work. Who does that? Show me! You’ve seen where they live, a museum to be envied. And how many artists have benefited, both living and dead.”

“Especially the dead, I’m afraid.”

“No, that’s not for you to say! So unfeeling! How can you? And then you sing quite a different tune when you want someone’s charity.”

“We don’t want any charity; nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Charity or not, it’s not about that. You wouldn’t go there to ask for work at home if you thought anything of yourself. Like a beggar! Like a bum and, what’s more, to make your wife do the asking. Jolan just shook his head when he heard.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know how one can help you when you mess things up so with everyone. We presented you like a bonbon on a silver plate. That can’t last forever. You have to understand. Nor can we take care of you forever, not at all. Friendship, yes, but then friendship. One hand washes the other.”

“Madam, don’t be angry with me! Look, things are not good for me, and I know that there is no one here who has done as much for us as you and the Herr Doctor. Where would I have been in the first weeks if I hadn’t met you? Your home was my refuge. For once, let me please make a practical suggestion. I have no interest whatsoever in depleting your resources, I don’t wish to be given anything. I own a few valuables, gold and such, things from my family, which I’d like to offer as security against a loan. My means are modest — Johanna also has only a couple of pennies saved — but there must be a way that we can be relieved of our misery and live for half a year somewhat free of worry so that I can finish my sociology of oppressed people. In a word, we are broke, and I need a certain amount of money to go on.”

Frau Haarburger let me finish and expressed her concern, saying how sorry she was that I was caught in such difficulties. But I should have thought things through better right from the start. Back then, there was probably something that could have been done, it even perhaps having been possible to take up a collection among the Haarburgers’ circle. But since then the situation had grown much worse, and now here I was, expressing my wishes much too late. Also, the idea of posting collateral against a loan — that was hardly done and wasn’t quite proper. You either helped someone or you let it be. Slender hopes, only sorrow, sorrow, so much misery in the world — it’s a crying shame, and if only one could do what one wished to. Life is just so hard. Frau Haarburger offered me a cognac, a good brand, and excused herself, leaving me there alone. After a little while, I heard her in the next room, she having taken a detour through the foyer, though I didn’t know whether she had done so by chance or on purpose. She spoke with her husband; I couldn’t understand what he said, just her, and even then not every word. Sadly her voice rose in indignation: “Jolan, he needs money, he has nothing to live on!” Then it was quiet for a moment, then I heard, even more piteously: “I’m telling you, he said he has nothing to live on! You need to help him out! It’s all exactly as Ida said. I’m telling you, it’s true!” Then I heard the doctor call out, “Impossible!” And then the answer: “It is so if I say so.”

Not long afterward, Haarburger appeared with his wife behind him. He greeted me as jovially as ever and didn’t let on about anything, but instead joked and was pleasant. Frau Haarburger hardly spoke and went to make a snack. When the doctor asked me in a good-natured way, “Well, then, how are things? What can I do for you?” I didn’t hold back at all and said I needed money, and was there anyone the doctor knew who would give me an interest-free loan against collateral so that I could have a year free from money concerns in order to complete my book. Dr. Haarburger immediately began to praise my work, about which he knew only from my stories and understood only a little, but as to what I was asking he preferred to remain deaf. Yet I wouldn’t let him do that, turning insistently back to the question. Finally, he said in a roundabout way that, unfortunately, he knew of no one, he’d have to think on it a bit. I repeated that I was offering security for such a loan. Yes, yes, that does indeed mean something, and he’d have to take that into consideration. What kind of security might it be? I had thought about that a long time and told him: the treasures that Herr Narad, Frau Holoubek, and other good people had handed over, my father’s gold watch, itself a piece of collateral with a strange monogram, along with other watches and some jewelry from aunts and other relatives, Franziska’s pearls — no, not those, Johanna had to keep those. Hesitantly I counted off everything. “Saubermann also collects jewelry,” Jolan said with a harmless glance to the side, but, indeed, that didn’t matter. “What’s more, unfortunately, what I could give you would hardly be enough.” Gold prices were down, and watches and ancient cheap jewelry had only sentimental value and were better stowed away as keepsakes than given away. Yes, large jewels, that would be something, such as triple chains of unblemished pearls, as well as emeralds, but not everyday third-rate gold confections.

I had nothing better to offer, and thus no security. The greatest of sorrows. I just had to keep my courage. Hard times. But time. Someone would help. Security would come. As well as better times, soon, just keep working, capably, successfully, Kratzenstein, gifted, we’ll see, Singule, patience. The same for Buxinger. Books. I did have my books. Sell them. But no one bought books. Buxinger would buy mine, sell them. Oppressed people, a sociological tome. Whoever writes last writes best. Just write. No one will care. And yet there’s care. Carat. A large diamond. Silver luster in the fanciest setting. A brilliant idea. Did you hear? Yes, yes, yes, yes. Accessories. Schmessories. Let’s talk about something else. Do you know? No! She’s important to know. Resi Knispel. Have you met her already.… She’s planning something. Why haven’t you visited her? She’s looking. She’s always looking. She’s looking for you. You’ll find. Very nice. No? I would strongly recommend that you … She wants to start a journal. Or something like that. And Fräulein Zinner, pardon me, your wife is expecting a child? How nice! How lovely! A little Knispel. A little tot. Maybe a boy, rather than a girl? Enough of that! You’ll know soon enough! Progeny! A father’s pride and joy. Haarburger’s daughter already had a tot herself. But in Mexico. Lexico. Already talking, a bit of a lisp, babbling on, the little tot, teething already. Everything ready for the baby, it’s important. That’s right. Hannah asks, Mittens? Shoes? Diapers? Hannah can mend, Jolan will send. Wool, nice woolly wool. If I need advice, they’ll be there, just say the word. To help, to pitch in. But I don’t have any more time, I say. The Haarburgers sad, so sorry, but they understand, they’re sorry. How it runs. Always at the ready. I’m really so sorry. No collateral, so I bowed. Already at the door the empty bow. Go on, off with you, down the three steps. A last bow. Hannah waves, waves, Jolan as well. So polite. Hope you’re not disappointed. Quite the contrary. Advice and collateral and time, come see us again. Go see Knispel, don’t forget, Resi Knispel, it’s important. Greetings to your lovely young wife, she’s wonderful, good luck with the little one, my wife, of course, is happy. Voices still echoing from the open door, take care, and waving. Zinner duped. And me in flight until the voice of collateral fades, and the fog lifts, and Johanna, who is waiting, embraces me with a lovely look.