H. Adler - The Wall

“The Englishwoman didn’t learn anything about it from me, whether directly or indirectly.”

“She entered the building, mentioned your name to Geschlieder, which she then repeated to me, and with Schnabelberger she almost threw a fit because no one would sell her any furniture. Again and again, she kept demanding to see you. I have to speak to him; she had been recommended to Dr. Landau. Finally it was made clear to her that nothing but old prayer books and such stuff could be sold, and even that not to private citizens. For such deliverance, we were grateful, especially when nothing more was said about it. In addition, you are not the chief or the director, who can decide such things. Which is why it should not be the case that our visitors should be asking to deal with you.”

“For heaven’s sake, did Herr Schnabelberger not tell you what I said to Mrs. Mackintosh?”

“Of course.”

“Then you can see, you can’t help but see, that your accusations hold no water.”

“But you can’t tell me that you had nothing to do with it.”

“Indeed, I can. I had nothing to do with it at all.”

Only after long effort did I succeed in freeing myself from any suspicion that I had given out information about the museum to anyone, even foreign diplomats, in such an absurd manner. When I finally succeeded in convincing Frau Dr. Kulka of my innocence, she had something else that was bothering her.

“Okay, then, let’s forget about the shameless Mrs. Mackintosh. But how did the couple from Johannesburg get the idea to ask about paintings? You certainly must have chatted a bit too much with them!”

“I’m not at all interested in the Levers.”

“That makes it even more curious!”

“It came out accidentally while we were talking. You know, when Herr Schnabelberger gave me a tour of the place when I was hired, it so happened that those were the very first paintings I saw. On the back of the frames, I wrote ‘Eugene and Emmi Lebenhart, Ufergasse.’ That stuck in my memory. When Herr Lever said that he used to be called Lebenhart, it just slipped out. I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen.”

“Yet that is what happened! I know your views, and you agitate our people to the utmost. We have no interest in giving visitors crazy ideas that then result in our maybe having to hand over goods that are then lost not only to us but to the republic as well. Don’t you understand that?”

“I understand, but it’s not right of us.”

“But then there’s your own ideas about returning the goods! Of course, everything of value in the museum belongs to us all!”

“But then we are treading a fine line.”

“What do you mean?”

“By taking in what the murderers stole.”

“Really.… Do you really think so? But you’re barking up the wrong tree with that!”

“Why, then, do we have laws about restitution, if I may ask?”

“Well, then, in the hope that you’ll finally understand, yes, there must, of course, must be such laws. One has to offer people every opportunity. But only one chance, and nothing more than that. What’s more, the law is for practical and essential items, not for paintings and many such things like we have. If we just give it away, then no one is served. In all earnestness, not even the so-called owners, and certainly not us. When I say that, I certainly mean more than you and me, for I mean the republic, the entire people. We can do something with it. And thereby we serve the building of the socialist society, and that must remain our goal.”

Frau Dr. Kulka kept on talking to me for a while, telling me that we shouldn’t let ourselves be led by sentimental concerns, and not just because there was often a tragic past tied to our valuables, weighty histories about which it was best not to know. What is past is past, and now we had to think of the future, of the building of peace and freedom, which depended on the common welfare, and this was the sense in which I finally needed to consider the museum and its message. Someone who handled things as impulsively as I did was a nuisance, no matter how noble his views, and while I worked with almost excessive diligence, at the same time all my efforts ended up for naught and left everything in disarray. Frau Dr. Kulka compared me to a builder who each day erected his wall brick by brick in long rows, after which I would hurry by with a crowbar and knock out some bricks down low, such that the entire structure collapsed.

I would have liked to respond, but it seemed pointless. I gave in and promised with a dry mouth not to give any more tours to anyone and to share only information that my superiors passed on to me on behalf of the trustees. I had long since decided to leave the country, but at the moment, while having to solemnly swear my allegiance to Frau Dr. Kulka, I also swore to myself, no matter the obstacles, to get out of there, even if the plans I had in mind proved untenable. Away from here, away! I almost said it aloud, but I bit my tongue and pressed my lips together, which the director took to be as good as a spoken promise, since she had cleared the air. With the salutation “Now let’s be friends!” the guardian of the thievery concluded her lecture. Frau Dr. Kulka said goodbye and walked off; I could hear her high heels echoing sharply as she quickly descended the stairs.

I opened the door and wanted to call out to her, “Away from here, away!” but I just whispered it. This had nothing to do with being clever or careful; an immense pain had choked off my voice. I closed the door again and could now do nothing but wait, having realized that at any moment Anna would arrive. She shouldn’t see what kind of awful time I’d just been through. Away from here, away! I paced back and forth in my little room and kept hearing the same phrase repeated: Away from here, away! It wouldn’t be dark for a while, yet the sky had dimmed, the light dirty and sullen, not at all that of late summer, stale fumes pouring through the open window. I wanted to close it, but when I saw how depressing the panes that had not been cleaned in a while looked, I let it stand open — Away from here, away! — and began to pace back and forth restlessly again, picking up the wrapped purse and carrying it to the other end of the room before turning back without it, then turning back — away from here, away! — to pick up the purse again, put it down elsewhere, just a bit farther, and so on and so forth in an extremely drowsy manner. Away from here, away!

Where was Anna? Look at your watch. Don’t look at your watch. No watch. Before the invention of time, waiting, not a waiting period, just waiting. Wait on, wait on! I had to sit down, without a watch, without time, just sit and wait. I was tired; my nerves were frayed, then they cramped up — I was painfully done in. Away from here! My past was to blame for it all. How was it possible to get through it without any knowledge of time? What I had suffered; what had I suffered? Just wait! I still went back and forth on whether any of the blame rested with me. About my fate, as was said, I could do nothing. Once it had arrived, it was inescapable. I should have got out earlier with Franziska, away, but there was no way for her parents to get out, and so we couldn’t leave but had to stay; not leave them alone, just wait. Responsibilities had to be met, and if I wasn’t able to save anyone I didn’t wish to remain on the earth another day, but I should have handled it differently back then. Was there time? Only waiting, waiting it out; how could I flee? But that I stayed behind, no one could forgive me that, not those who never had to flee and never wanted to or could think what someone like me had gone through, that there were consequences that resulted which kept me from ever staying on the usual track.