H. Adler - Panorama

Irwin says that it’s obvious that Lutz is indeed childish, for first you need to have talent, and then you can do whatever you want, but Lutz responds in a wounded manner, saying, “Mother says that you’re nothing but an egotist who thinks about nothing but money! Yet one shouldn’t only think about money!” No, that’s not all Irwin thinks about, but first you need to have some, then you can afford to do what you want, because how is Lutz going to study zoology if someone doesn’t buy his books for him, it costs a lot more than what Irwin likes to do, which is go to the movies or the operetta, he having seen Die Bajadere three times, because it was such a terrific production. Josef then asks if Irwin also likes to go to concerts or the opera. No, that’s too boring, you can just as easily hear it on the radio, Father had a fantastic vacuum tube set, though no one really listens to it, Father dialing in the news and the market report, or the weather forecast for the following day, while Madame sometimes listens to French programs, Lutz searching around as well, though Robert is not allowed to touch the set, for he once turned the knobs so hard that it could not be repaired. Mother, meanwhile, can’t stand the radio, because she shrieks like a stuck pig at the slightest background noise, though she doesn’t notice if someone deliberately opens up the cabinet in the next room and turns the radio on and off, setting off a series of cracks and pops in the set that sound like a thunderstorm or machine-gun fire, yet she can’t stand to listen to jazz even if it doesn’t contain such rattling, especially any band with American Negroes singing, for then the mother begins to rage like a madwoman until someone turns it off. Once more Josef tries to turn the conversation to serious music, but Irwin refuses, he finds most of it to be stupid, and even the audience is bored, pulling joyful faces and clapping like mad at the end, Mother loving it all and saying that Father should go with her, though he says he needs his rest, and so most often Madame goes alone, though the last tutor accompanied her, he being an idiot.

Lutz disagrees, saying that he was not an idiot, he was very clever and there was nothing really wrong with him, but Irwin explains that Lutz doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he was an awful guy who had at first talked so pompously that Mother didn’t realize how stupid he was, and thus she was so taken with him that she said he could be the next Goethe, Anselm Liebrecht his name. The guy had lived here and was so poor that two of Father’s suits had to be altered for him, a new coat was purchased for him, the seamstress had made him new pants, and Father had given him some ties that were still in good shape. At night the guy sat up in his room, Mother warning him that he would ruin his health if he studied and read all night long, though he really didn’t study but wrote poetry, some of which a journal in Bruex had published, though Mother wanted him to bring out an entire book, to which Liebrecht said that he had often tried to in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, but no publisher wanted to, poetry never sold, only one publisher from Bodensee having written to say that he would like to publish Liebrecht’s poetry if he would pay for two hundred copies, but Liebrecht didn’t have the money for that. Then Mother had the idea to set up a subscription, but that angered Father, who asked if he should trade such stock on the market, and that Mother should not make herself look so ridiculous, at which she was deeply hurt, since she already had transcriptions of all the poems, she wanting to publish the best of them at her own expense and surprise Liebrecht with them for New Year’s, they being hypersensitive stuff about love and nature and dreams, while on the parents’ anniversary and other special occasions he had put together a bunch of childlike stuff that Robert could learn by heart and recite, turning to Irwin and Lutz with such poems as well. Lutz didn’t say anything, but Irwin had spoken the truth, namely that such stuff didn’t interest him at all, even if it was a detective novel or the kind of books you’re not supposed to read because they excite the nerves too much, which is why they are hidden behind the first row of books on the shelf, but no matter, for he naturally didn’t read such books, though Lutz yells, “Don’t lie! You read them. Mother herself once caught you at it!”

Irwin shouts, “Don’t believe him! I don’t read any forbidden books! I only read Edgar Wallace and other crime novels. Mother never forbids those.” Josef asks what happened to the poet-tutor. Irwin had indeed told him that he was not at all interested in poetry, he had plenty enough in school, where he had to learn such garbage, but the guy could see that there was no way to make any money from it, after which Liebrecht left the house immediately, as what Irwin was saying was a deep insult, which because he is the son of Herr Director he could get away with in making fun of the poor poet, though the art of poetry rises above all such crudeness, and perhaps one day Irwin will remember all this once Liebrecht is at last famous, for he certainly will have a great following, every little note of his will be collected. None of this impressed Irwin, however, for poets were all starvelings, even Schiller was poor, despite writing his popular poem “The Bell” and William Tell , Goethe the only exception, he having come from a good family, and himself a lawyer and privy councillor and even a government minister. Hearing this, Liebrecht was deflated, howling like a fool that he had had enough, he couldn’t take it anymore, he was sick of this house, and he would quit immediately if Irwin didn’t apologize, but Irwin didn’t apologize, then the guy had accosted Mother and said he couldn’t spend another day in this house, to which Mother said she found that a bit ungrateful, she had treated him like her own son, so why quit on the spot? Then he yelled out, “Because of Irwin!” and Mother began to laugh, saying he was nothing but a young ruffian whom no one took seriously, and why wasn’t it enough for Anselm that Mother appreciated him, though she would speak with Irwin, for someday he will discover the beauty of art, something that the tutor also needed to inspire in him, maybe showing him how to write a poem, and the power of the material as captured in the form of poetry. Mother had said all this, for she liked to talk about art and had heard it all before in lectures she had attended, sometimes inviting artists to visit, total starvelings, who make only paintings and sculptures, Josef can even see the stuff throughout the whole villa, she inviting as well one or two literary people or someone from the theater, in addition to critics and a couple of women who marveled at it all.

Liebrecht said to Mother there was no way to show the ruffian how to write a poem, he had no respect for intellectual matters, but Mother was angered by Liebrecht’s freshness, saying good, if he was that ungrateful he could leave right now, and she wouldn’t have his poems printed, but then she also told him that she wanted to print the stuff, that she already had, and she wanted to support him and introduce him to influential people. To that the tutor said that it was obvious what kind of high culture prevailed in Herr Director’s house, to which Mother asked, “Anselm, what do you mean by that?” He then answered exactly as he had said and requested immediate release from his position. Mother had nothing against this, yet he had to wait until Father got home, to which Liebrecht said, good, he was going up to his room to pack his bags, whereupon Mother went to find Irwin and Lutz, explaining everything to them and then asking Irwin whether he wanted to indeed apologize, but Lutz immediately said that he had no problem with Anselm, he only didn’t want to learn about poetry from him, but Mother said it wasn’t about what Lutz wanted but rather Irwin, who explained that he had only spoken the truth to Anselm, and that she should get rid of him. When Father got home he went upstairs to Liebrecht and gave him a fair amount of money, because it had all happened so fast, though Liebrecht nonetheless asked if he could stay the night in his room, which Father agreed to, though the poet did not come down for the evening meal, Sophie bringing it up to him instead. Afterward Father had not said another word about it all, nor had Mother, the only thing said being that they would now have to find another tutor.