H. Adler - Panorama

Josef opens the door to the hall, all lights having been turned off, and even though it’s not late, everyone here goes to bed early, the Director certainly already asleep, his wife reading Ethics or a book that Dr. Brendel recommended to her, something about blossoming neuroses or sublime cathedrals in the north of France, though probably not, it being too weighty a tome. Josef closes the door, but he listens hard, a thin thread of dance music audible, most likely a gramophone from the neighboring villa, the tones suddenly becoming louder, then becoming scratchy and muted and dissolving into single notes that can barely be heard and which the listener can transform into lovelier music on his own and to which he can add additional melodies until it all exudes its own richness. Thus it becomes dreamlike, and maybe now Lutz is enjoying a good dream. One shouldn’t listen in on everything. Lutz is on a hike, just as he wanted. Josef goes to bed, the sheets cool and comfortable. He wants to read something, so he turns on the light, but the light flashes and makes a crackling sound, a short circuit, and then the room is dark. Amid his torpor Josef thinks about everything he has seen in this house, and then he sleeps.

PROFESSOR RUMPLER OF COURSE CAN’T HIRE ANYONE AT THIS TIME, HE HAS enough people, and though it’s clear that anyone would want to work for him, and he of course is happy to support ambitious young talent, one must also consider the times, everyone knows that things are bad in Germany today, it’s a horrible time for intellectual matters everywhere in the world. “We continue to maintain, of course, our high intellectual standards, but what do you want to do here? You’re a newly minted young doctor who studied, what, philosophy, but who knows nothing of life, can’t do stenography, doesn’t know how to write a proper letter on a typewriter, and yet here you stand with a heap of recommendations in your hand! Dash it all, I had to take my knocks in life first, and because of that I had no recommendations, I had to recommend myself. How old are you? I see, twenty-five. Do you know that I gave Schnitzler all the best ideas for his books? He was a talented writer and became famous, that was at the turn of the century. Do you think someone wrote me a recommendation for that? It doesn’t matter, I built a position for myself, but of course everyone begrudges me my position, how few worries I have. You have no idea of the kinds of people who have worked for me; I could plaster the walls with university professors.”

Josef stands quietly in the office of Professor Rumpler, who sits at an elegant desk, though it’s hard to tell if it’s made of wood, as the surface is covered with a heap of papers and books, a telephone, and a bust of Goethe made of waxed plaster, Professor Rumpler constantly reaching out to grab it by the crown, while in between he holds his own head and complains how no one knows the immense pressure the head of a cultural center has upon him. “You’re constantly pulled to and fro, everyone wanting to put his two cents in, because he knows everything about the matter, though of course no one knows anything. What you think doesn’t mean a thing, nor is it a question of taste, but you have to take precautions in order to defend democracy and freedom when they’re threatened. But freedom, what is that? Goethe knew the answer, that’s clear, but he didn’t have to live in our times and take social and political precautions that I have to keep an eye on. You see, you have to make compromises if you want to balance the swastika with the Socialists. You also have to know the government’s plans exactly and what it wants, in order to be careful. If I speak to someone on the left, then they scream that Rumpler is a Red, and then if I briefly talk to someone on the right, then the lefties start screaming that Rumpler is a Nazi. My friend, people begrudge Rumpler, but it’s easy for people to run off at the mouth. Who today appreciates humanity and democracy? They don’t mean anything, you might say, but you have no idea of the difficulties. Let me just show you what goes on here so that you’ll get rid of your desire for a position in a cultural center. You should thank God that you’re young. When I was young I had my whole life in front of me, and there was still a structure, the feudal and the liberal, and the emperor still ruled the people in a monarchy. But don’t go running around and saying that Rumpler said he’s for the monarchy, that’s ridiculous, I’m not so backward, and I consider there to be no choice but to be for a democratic republic. Nonetheless I still say that people, classes, and religions understood one another better before 1914, but advances, yes advances, bring disadvantages along with them. Listen, my young doctor, you should write down everything I say, though I can’t pay you any money, but it’s a job for a young man, namely to write everything down, I’m ready to take on Goethe! You should do it voluntarily. Nonsense, you’ll say, but the board funds nothing, the state subvention is ridiculous, and also the school minister and the foreign minister and the President’s Office all want this and that, numerous interests all competing with one another and never working together. But you should write it all down, the gathering of democratic powers, Switzerland a good example, my good friend Thomas Mann, dash it all, even he has to fight for his freedom. He should do a talk here so that we can fill the great hall once again. But, you see, no one comes to talks these days, education, who needs education? Lectures are a load of crap, and schools don’t support us enough, so we give away free tickets, wads and wads of them, while tonight we have a lecture about the Red Cross, highly humanitarian, but what do you know, no one will be crowing for that, and yet you want a position? Do you know what you’re asking? Everything eats up the tax revenues — health care, pensions — so how am I supposed to bring anything in? I don’t even have time to chat with you, a million little tasks await me. You see, there are already people waiting outside, each of them wanting to speak to me, and I have no help, though there are requests to give lectures, concerts, courses, and various programs, all of them wanting to be on the radio or to take part in something. I can hardly keep up! If you want to become my Eckermann, dash it all, then you could learn a great deal and bring out a book, Conversations with Rumpler! Indeed, that could do well, why don’t you write things down as I dictate them? Get a pad from Fräulein Grenadier, and learn stenography, but first show me your recommendations again. Well now, we’ll see, first you need to have a look around, but a quick one. I don’t know where my head is. You’ll have to roll your sleeves up and dig right in, all of my men and women need, of course, to be hardworking. You need a strong measure of idealism in order to work with others, and there is no shame in having to take tickets, even I do that. Quite the opposite, it never hurt me, and with my bad heart! All of us do it, which is democratic. Of course I can’t pay you much, you understand, the salary is small, but you will learn a great deal here, that’s for sure, and you won’t regret it. When I lie down for my final rest, perhaps you’ll recall and say to your children what a character Rumpler was, a man, an upstanding man who always held high the flag of humanity. If a reconciliation between the Bolsheviks and the Fascists should ever occur, people will say that Rumpler dedicated himself to it, dash it all, having worked and fought for it, the popular reconciliation of free intellectuals, the symbolic renewal of Lessing and Beethoven, Nathan and Die Neunte! Dash it all, it’s a difficult business! You have to sacrifice all your time, not a one of us works an eight-hour day. It’s not like at a bank or in a store, where you can throw in the towel and have a party. Saturdays are never free, and even on Sunday someone has to be here to keep an eye on people. Do you have any idea what would be stolen if there were no monitors? The regular hours are from ten until one and three until eight, but at eight the lectures and everything else start, so each monitor has to stay until eight-thirty. My colleagues never go home before nine, and often it’s ten or eleven. Not to mention that once a week each has evening duties until all the events are over. For overtime there is a tiny allowance, which takes care of everyone’s needs. Now I’ll show you the office, and tomorrow you can start.”