Aladdin's Problem (8 page)

60

I hope that my jottings have not jumbled the times too greatly. Often I cannot tell whether I met someone before, during, or after a catastrophe — indeed, I confuse catastrophes with one another. My memory is tied less to places and dates than to the plasmatic substance.

Why did I bring up Sigi? Right: because of Kornfeld and our conversation when our car ran out of gas near the Black Forest cemetery. After returning from Verdun, the capital ofpeace, I dropped in on Sigi, whom I hadn't seen for a week. In telling him about the trip, I happened to mention Kornfeld's anxieties about the eternal repose of his ancestors and then came to the leveling of old memorial places and the general decline ofthe cult ofthe dead. "They should rig up the moon as a mausoleum."

Actually, I had expected an ironic retort, the kind that Sigi loved, but I saw that he grimaced as if I had surprised him with a magic trick from a top hat. Rea had to bring fresh tea. As she was pouring it, he said: "I've reserved a spot for you." And when she had left:

"Friedrich, you don't realize what you've just said: that is the countermove to the motor world."

But then irony came into play after all:

"And it's also good business."

He must have had a Chasidic rebbe among his ancestors.

61

Sigfried Jersson, the great banker, had asked Kornfeld and myself to meet with him: we sat together in his office. Soundproofwalls, double windows and doors; no noise penetrated.

A man's taste is revealed, at first sight, by the paintings or, if the walls are bare, by the proportions — indeed, even more strongly by the latter: the invisible harmony dominates. This was the case, and I did not feel that something was missing. The main price of such an arrangement is the complete insulation.

Old Jersson was dressed like one of the senior members of the Jockey Club. He would have fitted in there physiognomically as well. His Berlin office was only a
dependance,
but he was often here, for he loved the city. It was rumored that he had once chartered one of the fastest planes in order to take a check to New York; the interest accruing in several hours was greater than the expense. Perhaps this was merely an anecdote, like those told about Rothschild.

Whenever he wanted to peruse a document, he would use his monocle, which was attached to a black ribbon. He did so now as he picked up the presentation that Kornfeld and I had written at Sigi's prompting. It was the only paper lying on the desk. His viewing .2 no doubt, a gesture, for it was obvious, as his quest revealed, that he had perused the contents meticulous I nurtured no great hopes. His invitation was probably sparked by a certain curiosity, or else the banker wanted to do his nephew a favor. Occasionally, such potentates start a firm for poor kinsmen, even lithe business runs purely at a loss. Sigi had once told me: "The old guy often doesn't know what to do with his money. He then drives new nails in to hang it up."

By inviting us, Jersson probably meant to determine whether we were personally reputable or Bohemians with fantastic ideas to Sigi's taste. That was what his questions boiled down to after he sized us up through his monocle. I could introduce myself as having a degree in sociology and as one of the directors of Pietas_ This was not disadvantageous. I noticed that he had had the firm investigated. So our meeting was probably more of a personal introduction, for the banker was also informed about Kornfeld — he asked him several questions concerning geology, which was not a random move, for Jersson had also made quite a name for himself in petroleum and he often dealt with prospectors.

The oil magnates have taken on the role of kings — their nets encompass lands and seas.

The meeting lasted three quarters of an hour, and had been tailored to that timespan, for a secretary appeared without being summoned and saw us out.

Two robust men followed us all the way to the street; they had searched us for weapons when we had entered. As we left, Jersson shook our hands. He said: "My son-in-law is a master ofthe unprofitable arts, but sometimes a blind chicken can peck up a kernel."

62

Nevertheless, I was surprised that we were invited back. This time, Uncle Fridolin was also there. The banker had flown in from New York and landed on the roof; he presented the summary of his reflections:

"Gentlemen — I have no interest whatsoever in pipe dreams or in running a pious establishment. Funerals have always been a sound business and could become a big business in these times; a genuine and widespread need exists. After reviewing the documents drafted by Messrs. Kornfeld and Baroh, I am prepared to form a company; I would advance the initial capital. I would not like the name of my bank linked to it; I suggest that Herr Fridolin Gädke should sign for the firm. I will have the necessary contracts drawn up and submitted to you by the end of the week."

That was the birth of the firm of Terrestra, under whose aegis our Pietas continued a modest existence, although the impulses radiated from the latter. Jersson then outlined his conception of the development.

First a piece of land had to be found — one that was as cheap as possible, perhaps even gratis. Participation by
the owners could even be considered. Jersson was familiar with this procedure from his oil explorations. It would be followed by the purchasing or leasing of land and the signing of contracts with the government. Once all that was settled, the promotional campaign had to be launched and the merchandise offered. Jersson reckoned with a large demand. It should not only cover the initial investment, but also add to the working capital.

Business is, after all, other people's money, and that's what bankers live on. Nevertheless, I was amazed by how precisely this banker had recognized the need. Jersson considered Kornfeld the right prospector; he could use the airplanes that were occupied in the petroleum sector, perhaps even some of the excavating and drilling equipment.

In conclusion, Jersson said: "In a burial, the main point is the digging — it would be good if we could be spared as much of it as possible by doing the proper groundwork." He was obviously picturing what the Swabian calls a "mown meadow." He did not go into detail. Yet we learned how important precisely that tip was.

63

I ought to describe the ongoing development of Terrestra, although I have been only marginally involved ever since my problem began to afflict me. First, a new office building was put up. Uncle Fridolin had lost his skepticism; he was now as keen as mustard. IfJersson was a genius in financial matters, my uncle was quite gifted. Jersson was the strategist, Fridolin the tactician. He had again reached a new level; this was expressed in his behavior, his modern comforts, and also physiognomically. As Terrestra's reputation grew, he accordingly changed cars; he kept an airplane and gave large dinners. My new office was as spacious as a ballroom, its floor was covered with a Kirman. I had the walls padded with red leather and lined with bookcases containing black binders. When Bertha first visited me there, she said: "Your new style reminds me of a limbo."

There was something to that. I had to cope with the mortuary pomp that conceals the misery, the ephemeralness of the world. Despite the routine, it rattled me. At times, between two visitors, a rumbling came from the silence, like the distant thunder of Doomsday. Bertha had already been averse to my joining Pietas. She might have thought of the Nobis Tavern: this is the inn at the edge of the world, where the dead drink together, swapping their experiences before descending into the depth. Although Kornfeld was still reconnoitering, we began our advertising campaign, accepting deposits in the manner of building and loan associations.

It was my job to advise the promotion department; only a selection of the mail reached my desk. Most of it was processed in the secretary's office, through telephone calls and printed matter. I received inquiries from churches, sects, associations, and important individuals. I
also retained the job of offering advice in heraldic matters; this was consistent with my historical interests. Even if the old families no longer played a role in society and had renounced their titles, they nevertheless wanted to be buried in a manner appropriate to their social standing.

Since the reputation of Terrestra soon spread beyond the borders, I had to keep pace with, indeed prepare for, the wishes of a worldwide clientele. This changed my nightly readings; I studied works like Klemm's
Universal Cultural History ofMankind,
De Vries's
Jewish Customs and Symbols,
the Reverend Andreas's
Past and Present Funeral Customs of the Various Nations,
and so on.

The throng of eccentrics, some of whom wanted absurd arrangements, was astonishing; but I do not care to go into detail. Compared with their wishes, Marie Bashkirtseff's famous chapel was child's play. Since most of those people were very rich, we established a special department: Curiosities.

64

What Bertha had said about limbo gave me food for thought in other respects. It appeared as if we were assuming the role of a priesthood or at least an order. Nor was this contradicted by the fact that we were running a business. This was so from the very outset, but it was not the main thing, as Monsieur de Voltaire says. If we keep close tabs on a conjuror and expose his trick, there is nev
ertheless something to it: he has performed manipulations bordering on miracles. A curtain rises, and someone appears in a tuxedo and a top hat; but behind him there are more curtains.

We had recognized a profound need. The demand can barely be met. Every morning, stacks ofletters arrive and are distributed to the offices. Ever since my problem began gnawing at me, I have been idly daydreaming for hours on end. My eyes alight on the dark binders: an entire shelf is categorized under the label URN . This is an important object for us.

I pull out a binder and leaf through it. A young ceramicist has handed in a suggestion. On the edge of the paper, Uncle Fridolin has written the word "Important!" The ceramicist points out that the traditional round shape of the urn, although age-old, is impractical. More than anything, one would like to find out whom this urn contains, and one would also wish to know the birth and death dates of the deceased and see a motto, a coat-ofarms, a symbolic ornament. A profile of the departed ought to be considered as well. This could lead to a new genre of artworks. Kornfeld had written on the edge of the paper: "Let's hope that collectors don't take it up?"

All this, according to the ceramicist, could be read more easily on a flat surface than on a curve; he therefore proposed manufacturing urns in the shape of dominoes, and he submitted drawings. We might, he said, consider the outline of a house — something similar already existed in Peru.

The correspondence about this matter fills a large volume. But why did Uncle Fridolin commit himself so deeply to this idea? Aesthetic considerations were the furthest thing from his mind. The old Pietas company was as tasteless an establishment as could be. However, an airplane could carry a lot more urns in this new shape than in the usual shape. They could also be stored together seamlessly along the wall of a columbarium without leaving any gaps. Thus Terrestra could offer a resting place
ad perpetuitatem
at a price below that of a normal Berlin funeral.

65

I note this detail as an example of blending religion and economics. One could write a book about the history of Terrestra — incidentally, several such books are already in progress. I will therefore be brief.

Kornfeld had completed his reconnaisance within a year, after traveling through all continents and to such islands as Malta and Crete. Nor did he omit Easter Island. First, he had to cross out several possibilities — either because of the expense or because they were not consistent with piety. Regarding the latter, he found that it was especially pronounced among the Etruscans. They were intent on keeping a family together — they therefore set up chambers with comfortable resting places in large hills or under the ground. The walls were adorned with pictures showing the dead feasting and quaffing together, enjoying themselves at play and in love, or hunting. There was no pain, no judgment for the dead, no hell, nor any gravity at these subterranean banquets. However, this would have required moving great amounts of earth, which flouted Jersson's guidelines. Still, the mood was worth emulating. It had been preserved in the funeral towers that the Romans, as successors to the Etruscans, had built in their Asian provinces. There are also suggestions of that mood in the Kidron Valley.

Furthermore, Kornfeld excluded any reminiscences of pyramids and catacombs. In Palermo, he had visited the Capuchine Tomb. There, thousands of fully-dressed mummies lay along, stood at, hung from the walls; it was a spectral world. Among the Etruscans, you feel relieved when you descend; but here, when you see the light again. Nevertheless, Kornfeld had been inspired: he saw how the shape of the body, including its physiognomy, can be preserved without any invasive procedures. We know that repulsive, indeed scandalous things had occurred among the Egyptians. The Capuchines, however, buried their dead fully clothed in hot dunes and then, one year later, transferred them to their tombs. You felt you ran into them at the Quattro Canti.

66

Although I could now take very good care of Bertha and fulfill her every wish, she stuck to her modest lifestyle. Having completed her studies, she was preparing
for a teaching position. She had moved into a larger apartment only because her old one had become too small for all her books. Books and travels — those were the things she splurged on. Twice a year, she drove to Greece in her little car. Recently, these trips had extended to the Ionian Coast as well as the Anatolian interior. She had visited Sardis, the residence of Gyges and Croesus, on the ancient golden river, the Pactolus.