H. Adler - Panorama

Lutz replies, “How happy that will make me, Josef! It’s a substitute for not being able to explore the world like the scouts do. But I also want to do real hiking. Josef, couldn’t you come with me sometime? Maybe on Sunday?” Josef explains that he will be coming to the house only on weekdays, not on Sundays, though he’d still like to go on a hike sometime soon. Lutz is happy to hear this, saying that’s great, you’ll need to plead with Mother, and ask Father and especially Madame, for if you speak with her first she often asks Mother on Lutz’s behalf and has sometimes had good results. Lutz then asks if Josef really knows about hiking, for he had once asked Anselm, who then went along with him, though all they did was take a train ride rather than go by car, and once they got off they had walked only about a half hour from the station before Anselm said that nearby was a lovely country inn where they could rest, for he couldn’t go any farther, his feet couldn’t stand it, and when Lutz complained that it wasn’t a real outing at all the poet had answered that Lutz was ungrateful, here there was fresh air and it was lovely, there also being refreshments, he could even order an ice cream, though if he wanted to see more it would be better to go by car. So they sat for a couple of hours in the garden of the stupid inn, someone playing a gramophone now and then, Anselm saying that this place was good at inspiring a poetic mood, it having a view where nothing much happened, just a bit of forest, but nothing really special, a glance back at the railroad tracks providing a view of a little town with a church tower and a couple of factory chimneys, smoke rising from them, though Anselm said it was a beautiful panorama, the kind of thing he needed when he wanted to write poetry, and that Lutz should be quiet so that he could write down something about the lovely contrast between the town and the countryside, which he would then work into a poem later on at home, there not being enough quiet here to allow him to forge his craft. Anselm had promised to title the poem “An Outing with a Student,” and would read it to Lutz and dedicate it to his mother, which would please everyone, but then Lutz left the poet alone and slipped off, for he saw some beetles, so-called longhorn beetles, which are rust brown and have long feelers, while at the end of the garden he came upon an ant trail, which he followed right up to the anthill, the little critters scrabbling about hastily on their six flexible legs, Lutz having placed a small impediment in the way of one and watching how it got around it. But then Anselm was there again and said they had to leave since it was time to catch the train, which meant they needed to head straight off, though Lutz wanted to show him what the ants were carrying, they having just begun to drag a pupa along with them. This didn’t matter at all to the poet, he saying that the ants didn’t matter, and they had to go in order to comfortably get to the train on time. And so the trip was over, Anselm telling Mother at home how exciting it had all been, and that he’d had some lovely inspirations, enough at least for a poem, maybe even two or three, at which Mother asked Lutz if he had had fun, and he answering, “Not at all!” Mother then asked him why and scolded him for being an ungrateful child, but Lutz still said to her that he didn’t need to go on any trips like that again.

Josef asks Lutz whether he went on any other outings, but he complained that he wasn’t allowed to at school, except once as a child in a steamer to Königsaal and straight back, otherwise only in the car, and then which everything you want to see just flies by, since Father always wants the chauffeur to drive fast, which is fun, though Lutz likes to make frequent stops, Father saying that one can do the same at home by just sitting in the garden, while once they reach their destination Father gets impatient and gives the order to head back, since the chauffeur also needs time off. At best Lutz can only gather a few flowers and catch a butterfly before it’s all over with and they head home. Irwin laughs, for he is not interested in such car trips and usually doesn’t go along, at which Josef asks whether Irwin would like to join them for a hike, and he says why not, as long as they do something sensible, like hold some kind of fantastic race, or a steeplechase, since he always wanted to sit on a horse, and you can win a lot by betting on horses, and did Josef know anything about them? No, he knew nothing about them, though he very much likes to watch the races. Lutz says in agitation that he doesn’t want to do that, it’s bad for the horses, animal cruelty, he having read about bullfights in Spain, about cockfighting in Portugal, also about greyhounds in England, all of it involving cruelty to animals, nor are the animals that are taunted and killed able to say what has happened, it being no way to love animals, they should be observed in the freedom of their own habitat. This irks Irwin, who says, look, Lutz is just a complete romantic, talking about the freedom of animals, and then he goes and gawks at them in the zoo, all of it romantic nonsense, Mother also excited by the dreck served up to children, be it to Robert or to women who are always romantic, though Irwin would never marry a romantic woman, for he wants something completely different. Josef wants to know what Irwin means by “romantic,” and he explains, “Anything that’s not real, thus loony or impractical. No real man is romantic.” At this there is a knock at the door and Sophie steps in to say that the Frau Director is in the salon and is asking, if the Herr Doctor has time, would he try to stop in to see her. Josef asks her to convey that he will be right there and then asks the boys what they are planning to do next. Irwin still doesn’t know, maybe go to the movies, while Lutz wants to read. Josef asks about their homework, which the boys promise to do first before they do anything else, then Josef heads to the salon.

“It’s so nice, Josef, that you’re here! Now, what do you think of my boys?” It’s too soon to say, but perhaps he could wait until later. “That’s splendid. Others have rushed to judgment in talking to me about my boys, but I believe things will go better for you if I give you some advice. At first I was an openly critical mother, though of course I love my brood, but you must believe me when I say that I am objective and recognize their flaws, for I keep a much better eye on my boys than they think, even when I grant them the freedoms that they need. I am like a manometer, I mean a barometer, I measure the air pressure, Josef, the mental atmosphere. It’s in fact wonderful to watch a young boy’s soul unfold. A person is the greatest work of art possible, I always say, trust an experienced woman when it comes to that. There are predispositions, Josef. Consider Irwin, for instance, he’s like my husband through and through, a powerful type, somewhat robust but simple, more practical and without any artistic curiosity. That pains me so, but unfortunately the times are such that one can behave like a beast, even if you’re not as blond as Nietzsche, because the tender, excessively thoughtful people are the real shrinking violets. That’s why it pleases me that Irwin is cut from more solid skin, I mean stock. As long as he doesn’t find women threatening, he will do fine. You should know — under the veil of total silence, of course — that my marriage is not as happy as it seems. My husband is indeed a model husband, he has a heart of gold and grants me anything I desire, though I have already shared with you that he was an even better son, just as Freud has shared with us about Oedipus. Therefore I always had to stand in the shadows. But that was not the only problem, my husband has always been very interested in other lovely women, I having to close my eyes and listen to what, of course, always gets back to me. You see, Josef, Irwin takes after his father, these days studying too closely any skirt that passes his way. Sophie has more than once complained of his being too forward. I’m not a prude, I always say, I find it all to be quite natural, but it’s dangerous, and I have spoken to Irwin indirectly — not directly, you understand — about it, though he didn’t wish to understand and maintained that he didn’t know what I was talking about. Since I couldn’t confront him with Sophie all that well, you can just imagine how painful it was, while in the mornings Irwin often doesn’t want to get up. That can only lead to bad blood, you understand. So please keep a close eye on him and keep me posted as to what you observe! Thankfully, Sophie is honest to the bone and won’t allow herself to lose her head, but if it continues we will have to call in a psychiatrist, because my husband’s brother — but swear that this will remain a secret between us! — was almost convicted due to some misconduct on his part. Only psychiatric expertise saved him, he having been placed in an institution for a while.”