Joseph Roth- a Life in Letters

by Michael Hofmann

  This understands—as it is important to understand—the balance between tragedy and dignity in Roth, sadness and success.

  177. To Félix Bertuax

  1 February 1933

  Hotel Jacob

  44 rue Jacob

  Bien cher ami,

  I’m here at last, and would love to see you—this week still, if you can manage it.

  I need to talk to you about my little pickaninny.

  Looking forward to seeing you.

  My best regards and those of Mrs. Manga Bell to Mrs. Bertaux.

  Your old true

  Joseph Roth

  178. To Félix Bertaux

  9 February 1933

  My dear friend,

  I must burden you with the horrible business of the translation.1 Here enclosed is Mr. Marcel’s letter—a copy—the original is back with Mrs. Gidon—from which it appears that Mrs. Gidon has delivered an excellent translation.—I don’t know what to do now. Either Mr. Marcel doesn’t know German or French—or else he’s lying. I’m tired of all these things, because of the goings-on in Germany I’m incapable of settling the least personal matter, and I feel completely downtrodden. What sort of moral responses are open to me anyway, if the publisher insists on his legal right to proceed with the translation?

  Cordial wishes to Mrs. Bertaux and yourself, your desolate old

  Joseph Roth

  Please don’t call, but give me a written rendezvous.

  I am never at home, just wander around randomly, I can’t stand to be in a room.2

  1. translation: of The Radetzky March.

  2. in a room: this note (typically) has interposed another drama, and another crisis, but this remark surely wants to be taken in relation to events in Germany. Even so, however, we have a description from Gustav Kiepenheuer of seeing JR once—unusually—in an apartment in Berlin, ten years previously, “pacing up and down the vast, gloomy drawing room, his hands in his coat-pockets, as though in a station waiting room, waiting for his train to be made ready.” He could never stand to be “in a room.”

  179. Gabriel Marcel to Blanche Gidon (written in French)

  8 February 1933

  Dear Madam,

  I have just read the first two chapters of your translation. It seems to me that the only criticisms one might make are trivial, that overall this is an excellent translation and I won’t even contemplate the idea of giving the rest of the book to anyone else. By all means show this letter to Mr. Roth.

  Yours sincerely,

  G. Marcel1

  Director of the Feux Croisés

  1. Gabriel Marcel (1889–1973), philosopher, dramatist, critic. Winner of the 1964 Peace Prize of the German Book Trade. At the time an editor at Plon. The Feux Croisés was an imprint at Plon. It is very difficult at this distance in time and language to get a sense of the rights and wrongs of Blanche Gidon’s translation of The Radetzky March, which came out in 1934. (The fact that it is still in print in France today speaks in its favor.) Roth in any case brought a characteristic energy, confusion, and offense to the matter, which, somewhat surprisingly, his personal and professional relationship with Mrs. Gidon managed to survive.

  180. To Félix Bertaux

  11 February 1933

  Dear friend,

  I have just written to Gabriel Marcel that I find the translation utterly unusable, and that I consider it my duty to appear before the French public in an adequate translation.

  At the same time I replied to Mrs. Gidon’s letter, which you saw yesterday, as follows:

  “The only person, my oldest friend in France, on whom I can depend, is Mr. Bertaux, as you know. He is very stringent and harsh (even with me), and he is familiar with my style. Without a second’s hesitation, I would give my public approval to any translation he deemed good.”

  I hope you’re not annoyed with me for thus enlisting you, unasked.

  The whole business is deeply unpleasant!

  1. Gidon is a friend of Reifenberg’s;

  2. Reifenberg is my friend;

  3. it is deeply embarrassing to encounter a piece of sharp practice in France that I would never have thought possible.

  4. I am completely wiped out

  a. without a penny, since, between ourselves, Landauer is giving up the publisher.

  b. With debts of 18,000 marks in Germany.

  c. With prospects of having to sleep under the Seine bridges within 4 weeks. (figure of speech?)1

  Forgive me this trespass into personal affairs. Perhaps—let’s hope—it’s only a bad dream.

  I hope to be more cheerful on Monday.

  Please kiss Mrs. Bertaux’s hand for me—in Austrian. (Do read Hofmannsthal’s posthumous Andreas!)

  Your old and desolate

  Joseph Roth

  1. See The Legend of the Holy Drinker, Roth’s last completed work of fiction.

  181. To Félix Bertaux

  11 February 1933

  My dear friend,

  I come to you with a revolting request: I have been sent a banker’s draft from Kiepenheuer: 550 marks, roughly 3,300 francs.

  I have no bank account here (none at all).

  Is it possible for you to cash the check for me, so that, through your bank—assuming you have the appropriate facilities—I might get the money as early as Wednesday?

  I’m meeting Pierre on Monday.

  I would give him the check if such a transaction is indeed possible. If not, then please don’t trouble yourself! I’ll try something else.

  My antagonism with Sieburg makes it impossible for me to use the offices of the Frankfurter Zeitung.

  Very cordial wishes to Mrs. Bertaux and yourself, ever your old

  Somewhat mad and desolate

  J.R.

  182. To Stefan Zweig

  47 rue Jacob

  Hotel Jacob, Paris 6e

  [mid-February 1933]

  Dear esteemed friend,

  I’ve been here for a fortnight trying to find accommodation for a young French pickaninny. It will have become clear to you now that we are heading for a great catastrophe. Quite apart from our personal situations—our literary and material existence has been wrecked—we are headed for a new war. I wouldn’t give a heller for our prospects. The barbarians have taken over. Do not deceive yourself. Hell reigns.1

  Warmly your old

  Joseph Roth

  1. Hell reigns: aptly, the obtuse and temporizing Zweig is the recipient of JR’s first explicitly monitory reaction to the Nazi takeover.

  183. To Félix Bertaux

  14 February 1933

  My dear friend,

  Mrs. Manga Bell is just back from seeing Mr. Diagne. As I guessed—going by my experience of minorities—Jews and Negroes—Mr. Diagne didn’t “daign” to meet Mrs. Manga Bell in person, had her received by a trainee, and merely for the purpose of sending her away again. He was unable apparently to do or promise anything. Meanwhile, a brother-in-law of Mrs. Manga Bell’s (her husband’s brother) is in Paris, is a member of the “etudiants evangeliques,” has a 12,000-franc scholarship, thanks to Mr. Diagne, and Mr. Diagne seems not even to want to lift a finger for any member of the Manga Bell family. At the most, Mr. Diagne’s trainee—a loathsome white bigot—would agree to confirm that Mr. Diagne knew Mrs. Manga Bell. The only way will be through the Ministry. The little fellow is French by birth. In my opinion, it doesn’t matter if he’s a black or white Frenchman. In political terms, black is even slightly preferable. If it can be done, a direct petition from Mrs. M.B. to M. de Monzie1 resolved favorably by Mr. V.,2 that—from all I know and sense about Negroes—is probably the only way forward. I tell you this, my friend, with the heavy conscience of a friend abusing friendship—but also with the clear consc
ience of someone who is responsible for the fate of a completely helpless child. It’s a given that a black French boy can’t stay in Germany. It’s almost equally given that France doesn’t need to support etudiants evangeliques who also happen to be black. By the way, Mrs. Manga Bell’s brother-in-law is no Frenchman by birth. What I’m demanding is an injustice in the name of justice. It’s enough that someone be black. He doesn’t need to have a set of black feelings.—My dear friend, I wouldn’t be so insistent, if Hitler hadn’t got in, and robbed me of my livelihood. I’m, as you know, stuffed. Otherwise I could have got together the 150 marks a month for the boy.

  Would you speak to Mr. Viénot? If he helps, I’ll be very grateful to him—naturally enough. Unfortunately, we don’t have much time—I can only keep the boy fed for another 6 weeks. Lousy, isn’t it.

  Please forgive me, and tell me—tell me honestly—if it’s not too much of a burden for you.

  Your old

  J.R.

  1. de Monzie: Anatole de Monzie, author.

  2. V.: Jean Viénot, senior civil sevant, subsequently Socialist minister.

  184. To Bela Horovitz

  18 February 1933

  Paris

  Dear, esteemed Dr. Horovitz,

  thank you for your kind letter. What a question: how am I! Seeing as I can’t get the money I need from Kiepenheuer, and the Jews are ducking behind Hitler’s back, and I can’t go back to pre-election Germany—merely because it makes my heart bleed to see German fraternal quarrels—I’m feeling great. You might think about making discreet preparations to welcome new German authors. The Jewish publishers in Germany are shutting up shop.

  I’m staying here for another 2–3 weeks. I’m between hotels. If you have something to send me, send it for now to Joseph Roth, c/o Mr. Isaac Grünberg,1 Bon Hotel, rue Vaneau 42, Paris.

  I have a lot of zores and two small favors to you. Can you settle the Roth account (enclosed), and send 15 schillings to Mrs. Jenny Reichler, Am Tabor 15? It’s a mizwe.2 (If you can’t, I won’t be angry.)

  As far as Rebellion goes—it’s a stroke of luck for me that you have the book—but what about the fee? I’m waiting for it—how can I not: we’ve both been waiting 3,000 years to be given a role to play in German literature.

  And on top of that, it’s taken me a further 12 years to acquire a nice conservative reputation.

  Since you must have paid at least 1,000 marks for Rebellion, I’ll ask only another 100 schillings for Savoy. Between you and me: Rebellion is still in print. For falling for it, another 20 schillings. Are you now going to spoil the success of all my reactionary works to follow?

  What about Hotel Savoy?

  To live is to outlive.

  I mean the Third Reich.

  So, no hurry, please. Otherwise I’ll have to say Rebellion is by my twin brother of the same name.

  Nothing against God and Christians, if you please.3

  Your old

  Joseph Roth

  1. Isaac Grünberg, writer and friend of Joseph Roth’s. He translated Céline’s Voyage au bout de la nuit into German in 1933.

  2. mizwe: (Yiddish) kindness, solace.

  3. If you please: a wonderful breezy irony—hopelessness in its early stages—pervades this letter.

  185. To Félix Bertaux

  Café des 2 Magots, [Paris]

  24 February 1933

  My dear friend,

  I am now staying at: Le bon Hotel, rue Vaneau 42. I have had some more ill luck in the last few days. The boy was returned to me with high fever and a serious flu. He’s in the hotel with me now. Apparently, I can’t cure myself of these misfortunes. Quite apart from the fact that with all these terrible and unplanned expenses, I won’t have anything left to live on. I am completely crushed.

  Still no word from Mr. Gabriel Marcel. Because of the little pickaninny, I couldn’t even think about all that. I’ll write to Marcel today. In the meantime—before I fire the Big Bertaux—I’m asking you whether you can find out from Stock1 whether Mrs. Gidon was the original [sacked] translator of Kästner.2 (Fabian.) André Thérive3 is said to have attacked the translation so violently in Le Temps that the publisher was forced to withdraw it. If that was Mrs. Gidon, then I really need no further argument, and I don’t need to send you off to the front, when I’d rather keep you behind the lines as my general. Could you find that out? Will you? It has to be soon.

  Could you also pass my new address to your son Pierre? It’s very important to me that I find some accommodation for my little pickaninny. How much is the Lycée Janson per month? More than 400 francs? And boarding? I may have to go back to Germany, if the thing with the publisher doesn’t work out. I have to anchor my existence for at least six months.

  Please write back. And let’s meet.

  Sincerely, your old

  Joseph Roth

  1. Stock: Librairie Stock, a French publishing house.

  2. Kästner: Erich Kästner (1899–1974), novelist, poet, essayist.

  3. André Thérive (1891–1967), critic and writer.

  186. To Félix Bertaux

  1 March 1933

  My dear friend,

  I’m seeing Marcel on Saturday morning. He wrote back yesterday, at long last. I’m going to appeal to you. If you can manage, can we meet tomorrow (Thursday) afternoon? I’m free then.

  Sincere best wishes to you and Mrs. Bertaux, your humble

  Joseph Roth

  187. To Félix Bertaux

  4 March 1933

  My dear friend,

  I’m just back from seeing Mr. M.1 He is very keen to have my book on his list. He is one of too many figures in the book business with strong aesthetic convictions, and a quick and instinctive grasp of things, but who remain fundamentally unreliable. He completely understood my position. He even said I was right. He is a nimble translator, and is quick to find the right form of words. He wants to send me someone who, he thinks, will match my intentions. He would rework the translation completely. I am to give this gentleman a sample. I can then present that to you for approval. Then we’ll see. It appears that Mr. Marcel has several reasons for not offending Mrs. Gidon. I said more than once that I relied entirely on you. He spoke very warmly of you. Almost dismissively of Werfel.2 All in all, I formed the impression that he doesn’t want to lose me, but that he’s a little hemmed in by Mrs. Gidon. If I get a good translation from someone else, then I don’t really care what happens between Mr. M. and Mrs. G.

  I’ll phone you on Monday evening. Grim news from Berlin.3 I’m exhausted. I can’t even go on working on the novella. I really am exhausted.

  Best wishes to Mrs. Bertaux,

  Ever your old

  Joseph Roth

  1. Mr. M.: Gabriel Marcel.

  2. Werfel: Franz Werfel (1890 Prague–1945 Beverly Hills), writer, poet, essayist, one of the most successful and bankable names among German writers between the wars. His best-known novel is The Song of Bernadette, completed in the United States in 1942, after he and his wife, Alma Mahler, made a dramatic escape through occupied France. It was also made into an Oscar-winning film during World War II.

  3. Grim news from Berlin: a reference to the burning of the Reichstag on 27 February 1933, and the promulgating the next day of an emergency decree that suspended civil liberties and permitted the central government to take over authority in the individual states. This “temporary” decree was never rescinded.

  188. To Félix Bertaux (written in French)

  Tuesday 1:30 [no date]

  My dear friend,

  I’ve been making myself try and telephone you for the past hour. It seems the telephone has other ideas.

  I hope you’re not angry with me. I would like to see you at the end of this week or early next. (Give me a written time and place.) I
will come, or be there already.

  Mrs. M.B. is doing better, at any rate—thanks be to God—she won’t need an operation.

  As for me, I’m doing very badly. I can’t write any more. I am too weak to endure the crowd of misfortunes that are too small to give one any satisfaction, even the satisfaction of being “unfortunate.”

  Will I see you soon?

  I crave the reassurance of your presence.

  Forgive this indiscreet confession from your (old) friend

  Joseph Roth

  Best wishes to Mrs. Bertaux, and to Pierre. Will I not see him in the time he’s “in purdah”?

  189. To Blanche Gidon

  16 March 1933

  Dear esteemed kind Madam,

  thank you for your dear letter. My publisher was here, and kept me from answering you at once. I never accused you of ill will. I have always been grateful to you for going to so much trouble over my book. I never doubted that you took on the translation for no selfish motive. However, I cannot avoid saying to you that your translation is a bad translation, and—in spite of my debt to you for going to so much trouble over the book, and in spite of the friendship I feel for you—it remains a bad translation. I fail to understand how a perfectly objective criticism should strike you in light of a personal grievance. Anyone is free to tell me that such and such a book of mine is no good. I would never draw personal conclusions from it. You are free to rework the translation with the help of the party Marcel will suggest, or by yourself, or with whomever else you like. I need to look to my own survival. I cannot—even if my French were up to it—busy myself with the translation. I have to go to Switzerland now for a week. Please believe me, at least, that I continue to believe in the unselfishness of your motives. But that has nothing to do with my conviction that your translation—in the form in which it is in front of me—is not good. Do you want me to tell you it is good, against my own convictions, when I am convinced of the opposite?—Maybe I am a boche. But, be it out of politeness or friendship or anything else, you can’t expect me to say something that doesn’t accord with my convictions. Is that why you’re angry with me?