The Wall (17 page)

When I look at Johanna I am often happy, though sometimes also sad, yet always something is affirmed, and many fears are tamped down. What happens between us folds in upon itself and creates an understanding; we trust each other, there’s no need to search for anything else. Thus we stoutly believe in each other. No matter how strange and distant we are, our hands are always entwined as one. Perhaps I am wrong about Johanna. It’s easy for me to be near her, for then I am lost to the light. She is awake; she has unconscious control of me. She beams at me, she wants me, she makes me real,
she sees me, she talks to me. This is the deepest effect she has on me. For she is never despondent; seemingly docile, she conquers my sudden, often startling disappearance with action conjured out of nowhere. When I don’t exist, she doesn’t break down; if anything, it entices her to provide all the more strongly what wouldn’t exist without her confidence. All of my weaknesses are only inducements to her. It almost seems that she needs a weak man. For the fact that Johanna has chosen me remains as unfathomable as it does unrewarded. Did she consider the consequences of our relationship? What ingratitude lies in such a question! I am amazed, and it still upsets me when I recall how it all happened. My long journey, my hope coupled with a new country, the strange hazy city, so much fog, for weeks given the runaround for no apparent reason, then a glance exchanged at a gathering, and there was Johanna, once, then again. I didn’t know why, but I spoke to her, and already the marriage was settled.

I had been referred to others along the way before I had taken flight, and my friend So-and-So provided me entrée in the metropolis and to what I told myself were influential personalities. They welcomed me politely and led me into their circle like an exotic mythical beast, and indeed I was met with nothing but wincing curiosity and a gaping desire to know more. Meanwhile, I just took it all as part of the urge to extend to me a friendly invitation to join their ranks. But no, I didn’t mean anything to them, for they just stared at my mouth as it spewed out surprising news that they wanted to listen to, only to go on making light conversation, the stinging accounts about the horrors endured pleasing the spoiled ladies and gentlemen. But I myself disappeared, a passing folly who was persistently mistaken in thinking that he would be taken good care of, though I was nowhere present in any of the stories themselves, and was not at all even comprehensible, even when they listened to my own story. How foolish of me to feel satisfied with how others were astonished at me and fawned over me with cheap courtesies. The allure of the stranger soon dissipated, everyone having heard enough of my plans, all fondness for me dissolving. Awkwardly, I displayed my displeasure and could not regain the advantage; the beginning of my isolation had been fatally set in motion.

In the first days, I was invited by Herr Dr. Haarburger and his wife once or twice a week, they being wealthy refugees in a luxuriously furnished villa
whose contents had all been purchased in their native country. During one of my first visits, the Haarburgers had arranged for me to come to dinner, after which friends and some guests of rank and renown were summoned to appear, handsome men and bejeweled ladies who drank their coffee and gawked at me from all sides while eating cake and smoking cigarettes, Frau Haarburger having urged me in a well-meaning way to make sure and show them my best side.

“Make contacts, that’s all, my dear Herr Landau. Professor Kratzenstein is president of the International Society of Sociologists. He has fantastic connections, as well as with publishers, and he has access to loads of money and stipends. But you need to be in good form, Herr Landau!”

“He will indeed be. He’s certainly clever, Hannah!” Dr. Haarburger reassured.

“And can he do something for me?”

“But of course, and a lot! Indeed, he can!”

Frau Haarburger then counted off those whom Kratzenstein had already helped.

“He’s tremendous. But you have to make your move! You can’t just be difficult. And Frau Singule is nearly as important as he is. You must know the name. No? I’m flabbergasted! What do you make of that, Jolan?”

“Nothing to worry about! Please, dear, he can’t know everyone. Actually, Singule used to be a zoologist. But that didn’t work out so well for him.”

“Then he turned to medicine.”

“He was great at that. But now he’s general secretary of Europe for a rich, perhaps the richest, American foundation. His central interest is natural science, biology. But, nonetheless, the job suits him, for he’s someone who is interested in everything. Indeed, his word is as good as gold. Too bad that he’s not here himself. He has so terribly much to do and rarely can get away. Perhaps next time.”

“For Herr Landau it’s probably better that he doesn’t come. Don’t you think so, Jolan? Frau Singule can handle it all herself. Just a suggestion from her to her husband—that’s all it takes to get his ear and have him on board with anything.”

Frau Haarburger’s hopes were fulfilled, for Singule didn’t show, his wife apologizing on his behalf with great fanfare. Instead, others appeared. Kratzenstein
was the star attraction—“What a head! Could anyone look more clever?” Then there was the bookseller Buxinger—“All I need do is say one word to him and he’ll lend you any books you need!” As well as Herr and Frau Saubermann, a rich couple who owned factories and had humanitarian interests—“How much good they have done, and with such humility!” And Resi Knispel, a Zurich press agent—“Simply brilliant, well educated, and works for some kind of literary agent as well!” And, in addition, Fräulein Johanna Zinner, an official in a refugee organization—“Not so important, but a heart of gold. Jolan and I love her like our own child!” There were others as well, but none that I recall any longer. First, I was introduced to Frau Singule.

“Herr Landau—in fact, Herr Dr. Landau—just arrived, our new friend. You’ll see how famous he is! He can tell you all about it!”

“My pleasure, my pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine, madam.”

“All that happened to you doesn’t at all show. Maybe what happened wasn’t so bad, but bad enough, I understand. Or were you lucky?”

“Lucky, madam.”

“Yes, that’s what my husband says as well. Too bad he’s not here. He never has any time. One of his family members died. How terrible! Too many. Most likely you would have known him if you were there. Dr. Berthold Singule, an attorney. He was such a good person.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Really? But I find that amazing! You were there and didn’t see him? Unbelievable! He was loved by so many! We’ve heard reports from survivors how well he carried himself. You mean to say—”

“You said it yourself, madam, there were too many! There was no way to know everyone. I’m often asked about relatives, and in almost every instance there’s nothing I can report.”

“One hopes for a chance encounter.”

“Certainly, madam.”

“That is really awful! One wants to know!”

“Of course.”

“That’s what I’m saying! And then he was sent away. He didn’t deserve it. So kind. And not a trace more, nothing. Gone.”

“That’s how it was, madam. Everyone gone. In the end, it was left to chance who remains and who does not.”

“That’s what you say! But one really wants to know just what happened. When, where, under what conditions? And whether the poor dear suffered much or not?”

“Certainly, madam.”

“Oh, it’s horrible that you can say that so easily. But, understandably, one must be blunt.”

“Not quite, madam. At least not me. I want to put it into a larger context.”

“That must be terribly interesting and is certainly very important! Congratulations—no, I mean what courage, Herr Landau!”

“That’s what I meant to say,” Frau Haarburger said, interrupting. “Dr. Landau is the man for the job.”

“I can only recommend my friend in the warmest way,” said Dr. Haarburger. “That’s a head that will impress your dear husband. Terrific, I say, the very best!”

“It’s a shame that he always has so much to do. Overwhelmed. Looking over applications all day long. By the way, one might be of interest to you, Herr Landau—something about experiences with typhus and lice. Ugh, simply disgusting. But the poor fools who died of it! Terrible!”

“Herr Dr. Landau knows all about that, Frau Singule,” Dr. Haarburger confirmed. “Your husband would be interested to hear all about it.”

“Naturally, if only he could! It’s horrible! Just imagine, tonight another meeting about the dispersal of grants for the next quarter. That can last all night.”

“My dear Frau Singule,” offered Frau Haarburger. “Take our young friend under your wing! Tell your husband about him!”

“But of course, with the greatest pleasure. I will see to it.”

She nodded at me and smiled promisingly. Then I was presented to Professor Kratzenstein, who put to me the most clever questions in the world. Soon Fräulein Zinner joined us, yet she didn’t say anything, but instead just took it all in with lowered gaze. The professor found my scholarly plans interesting, but he felt that a sociology of oppressed people would indeed be too great a challenge. I countered by saying that I was not proposing
to advance a complete system, but that I wished to work out the underlying cause, to delineate the contours of the problem and stake out the borders. Kratzenstein explained that this sounded interesting, but he was just concerned that the closer I came to explaining it more precisely such a knowledgeable man as myself might allow my theme to get bogged down in ethical matters, thus getting all tangled up in such nonsense, whereas what was needed was simply to state the facts—this and that happened—just put it down, detail the sources, interview witnesses, compare statements, consider the psychology behind them, measure the evidence statistically, and then something useful would come of it all.

“However, whoever was actually there is rarely right for such a task. Anything subjective is dangerous, I warn you. How can that lead to any kind of precise research? Each of us thinks differently, even about morality. You really have no idea what one can imagine that involves, and scholarly integrity suffers when in the presence of half-truths, just as it must from the implementation of any prevailing value system.”

“I don’t wish to present it so simply.”

“Not at all simply? It’s very, very complicated! And indeed because of that it has to be simplified in order to provide the mind with the structure of reality, all of it able to be taken in. Facts—it all depends on the facts.”

“Of course, the facts. But then from those to begin something, to grasp, to think, to conclude.”

“Not the way you imagine it! To let go of empiricism? A fundamental mistake! Scholarship must present its material in a pure manner. Everything else is almost always a metaphysical joke or nonsense. I’m warning you. Consequences are not the purview of science, for it’s up to society to work them out before the politicians do.”

“But that’s not what happens.”

“Ho ho! Not so fast!”

We went at each other fast and furious. I spoke all the more frankly the more the Professor came at me. He maintained that the times had passed me by. It was understandable and regrettable. Whoever was unlucky enough to have been condemned to such isolation, such a one couldn’t understand matters correctly, even if he was stuck in the middle of it. Because, as a result, not only had one lost contact with life; one had also lost the proper
standards. In order to counter that, I had to first free myself of all judgments. That I had been a witness to the catastrophe was all well and good, but I had long since lost any inherent right to research such material, rather than only be a part of it.

“If I were you, I would just write a short, clear account about how you got through it all, what you experienced and observed. Just that. Reflections about it all should be left out. They will only muddle your account, making it too emotional, such that no one will take it seriously. All of that is worthless. I don’t mean to sound so harsh, but that’s how it is.”

Frau Haarburger approached, took Resi Knispel by the arm, and was pleased to see Kratzenstein talking with me so animatedly. Good for Dr. Landau, said the housewife, such excitement is always productive. She then deftly assured the Professor that it would be well worthwhile to provide all the necessary concrete support for my highly ambitious plans. The famous sociologist nodded obligingly, saying one would certainly have to think about it, although right now the situation was especially complicated, for there were always higher and higher demands, and that, incidentally, he believed that Herr Dr. Haarburger would be the most fitting person to use his immense influence here to set up the proper circle of contacts that would best suit my purposes. Frau Haarburger felt flattered and agreed, but couldn’t help underscoring that her Jolan was also heavily burdened and that, even without this, he was doing everything in his power that he could. To her regret, she had to admit it couldn’t amount to much. She had tossed it around with her husband and they came to the conclusion that it would be best to help Dr. Landau give a lecture at the International Society of Sociologists.

“That’s worth considering. Obviously, I will need ahead of time a more precise understanding of what Herr Dr. Landau is really proposing. The thesis must be narrowly focused and new as well. It has to be absolutely clear. Understand? Perhaps you could give me a call. But not this month. I have to go to a conference in Paris on statistical reconstruction, something very interesting, but I’m expected to give a paper, which is always demanding, and then I have to be in Amsterdam for a week at the invitation of the Dutch government. As I understand it, Herr Dr. Haarburger will be there at the same time. I’ll certainly see him there, won’t I?”

“Naturally, Jolan is looking forward to it immensely. Maybe I’ll also tag along.”

“That would be lovely, my dear.”

“Wouldn’t it?”

“But excuse me, Herr Professor, when should I get in touch with you? Next month?”

“Excellent! Somehow it will happen. You have plenty of time, don’t you?”

“But of course.”