by H. G. Adler
“Yes, but how long—”
“Don’t be in such a hurry, my dear friend! After your initial studies, you’ll need six months for the first draft, then two more years to revise it. But you’ll gain such respect, because you are so preoccupied with your thesis. That will give you the strength to convince me and the entire world. When your work is finished and is what I imagine it will be, then you can come to me. Right?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Look, that’s what needs to happen! We can then discuss what we can do with your work.”
“Yes, Professor. But could I perhaps ask you, Herr Professor, whether or not you see any opportunity as to how I might secure some kind of foundation whereby financially—”
“Oh, I see! Of course … That I need to think about. Just wait—”
“I mean, if you—”
“I understand already what you want. Unfortunately, my dear Herr Doctor, unfortunately … The International Society of Sociologists has no—”
There was a knock at the door, and Frau Fixler appeared with a soft nod, asking to be excused.
“Forgive me, Professor,” the secretary said while constantly looking at her wristwatch. “Forgive me, but the gentlemen have been waiting for almost a quarter of an hour for you to be at the meeting.”
“Look, Herr Doctor, that’s the way it is. I’m really very sorry. It was such a pleasure to be of help to you, even if not to the extent that—”
“Many thanks! But could you please tell me quickly what I might still—”
“Dr. Singule, I think, or Dr. Haarburger and his wife—they are such good people. You’re already in their good graces.”
“Professor!” Frau Fixler called out nervously.
“I’m coming! Goodbye, Herr Dr. Landau, and I wish you all good luck! You’ll certainly stay in touch?”
“If that would be all right.”
“But of course! It would be such a pleasure! Frau Fixler, you have his address?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“And you made a note to invite him to the regular meetings of the working group?”
“Yes.”
The Professor didn’t extend his hand to me but waved quickly, said something else, and was gone. I picked up my presentation from his desk—he had forgotten to give it to me—and put it in the folder of other writings that I had wanted to show to him and leave with him in part, but which I had never had the chance to bring out. Frau Fixler wanted to call the attendant, but I said I could see myself out, and with that I said goodbye. I never got any invitation to the meeting of the working group. I called a couple of times, not too often, reaching no one but the secretary, who became ever less friendly. Then I finally gave up.
It seemed a reasonable idea to turn to other people. Sometime later, after I got to know Frau Singule at the Haarburgers’, she took ill and spent half a year at a spa hotel in Switzerland, where Fräulein Knispel’s brother was the house doctor. For the most part, Dr. Singule was not in the country but traveled from conference to conference and spent a number of months in America, but as his wife recovered and he was finally home again, Frau Haarburger insisted that I follow through on this very important contact. That was shortly after the disappointment with Professor Kratzenstein. Since he had just mentioned the name Singule, I wasn’t too inclined to seek out an audience with this man. If a famous sociologist had shown so little understanding of me, what could I at all expect from a man who, because of his own preoccupations, had little interest in my work, and who, sadly enough, was known not to have any time for people asking for his help. My sense of mistrust was also seconded by So-and-So, who was dismissive of Singule. It’s true that my friend usually had nothing nice to say about anyone he knew—about Kratzenstein he offered praise that was laced with numerous reservations—but he simply had nothing good to say about Singule and made fun of him with bitter mockery as of no other. Some years before, Singule had commissioned So-and-So with a specific project that had to do with the composition of social motivations in nineteenth-century Russian literature, but when, after some months, he submitted the work to Singule, the latter had no memory of the request, saying that for him and the American foundation it was worthless, he was no fool, and that he had never ordered any such thing. Vainly So-and-So tried to refresh the man’s memory and had to take away his work without having any recourse against Singule, as he had nothing in writing. I related this story to Frau Haarburger in order to convince her that I really didn’t want anything to do with Singule. She said, yes, she had already heard that from her husband, but first, you shouldn’t take it as gospel truth, and second, even the best of men do such things, that was her opinion, and you shouldn’t see it so tragically but, rather, I should visit Singule and I would see how splendid he is, how well I would get along with him. As I hesitated, Frau Haarburger went to the phone and called the Singules. Both happened to be home and, to my surprise, I was invited to tea on the following Sunday.
I rang the doorbell of the villa; a sweet servant girl opened the door and led me, as I told her my name, immediately to the salon. The couple arrived soon after, greeted me, and asked me to have a seat. Frau Singule didn’t waste any time, and seemed very pleased to see me again. She was only disappointed that I had not brought along Johanna, and was taken aback when I said that my wife had not been invited, so I couldn’t after all bring her along. Invitations, I was told, are always meant for both members of a married couple, especially in the case of such a delightful woman.
“A charming little person, your wife. From the best of families—one notices it immediately upon meeting her. I’ve known her for some years. One can only wish her all happiness. Tell me, Herr Landau, she does indeed make you happy, right?”
“One never really knows such things, madam.”
“Oh, of course you know. You should know it, especially as a newly married man. And isn’t it true that the children are not much of a burden to you, either?”
“Madam, I only regret that I didn’t bring her with me.”
“You should regret it. Every moment is lost in which such a treasure is forsaken. Her refinement is written all over her face.”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s good that you agree, and that’s why you should not say anything wrong about such an angel. I know what she did for work. She gave it her all, but was always friendly, always pleasant. When the war was over, I went to her on behalf of my husband. How she put herself out to find any trace of my brother-in-law! Did she never tell you?”
“No, madam.”
“What, she never told you how desperately we wished to find out what had happened to my brother-in-law, Dr. Berthold Singule, the lawyer? I find that strange!”
“No, she really didn’t.”
“She didn’t say a word, but how hard she tried! Nothing but humility, especially if she didn’t say anything! She went down a hundred different paths for us, calling every Tom, Dick, and Harry she could think of, as one says, and lots more. She did nothing less than move heaven and earth. And she never told you that?”
“No, madam.”
“Well, then! But that’s so dignified of her, one sees that—such discretion, and then, because she doesn’t wish to bother anyone, not even her own husband!”
“I only know what she did in general.”
“Yes, that’s what I said! She’s so refined! She spares her husband such things! And that’s why one shouldn’t burden her. She’s had enough trouble already. Perhaps you don’t know, but not only did her parents die over there; she also lost a brother here. Such misfortune—both brothers!”
“I know, madam.”
“Good that you at least know that. But to have to carry such responsibility, how terrible! You must be thinking about it all the time. You should create a paradise on earth for her!”
“That’s hard to do, very hard.”
“Of course it’s hard. Why shouldn’t it be? Nothing comes from nothing. Which is why you have to wor
k for it. What you want is what you get.”
“Do you think so?”
“And do I! But you just have to work for it.”
“That’s true, but one also needs help.”
“We’re here for that—myself and, above all, my husband. If he only had time. He never has time. He’s already left again just now. It’s terrible!”
“So I won’t have a chance to meet him?”
“Just because you don’t know him, don’t worry! He’ll stand by what he promised. He’s only gone off a short ways. Just a couple houses down. He knows that you’re coming. He’ll receive you. Certainly. I have promised Frau Haarburger that it would happen. How lucky to have such a friend! She adores you! And Dr. Haarburger as well. The talent you have. You’re indeed a self-made man. You would agree. And then there’s my husband. He’s so mellow and ready for anything. Only one can’t do it all. Which is why I always advise, you should arrange something practical.”
“But you believe—”
“Of course, if only he can. Just imagine what is asked of him. He simply can’t do everything.”
“But you see possibilities?”
“Certainly, Herr Landau. There are possibilities. One only has to find them. But normally it’s hard to, and then everything is in vain. I tell you—It looks like my husband is here. Indeed he is, or would seem to be. E-du-ard. E-du-ard! Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here, Klara.”
I was greeted courteously.
“How happy I am to make your acquaintance, Dr. Singule.”
“Singule, just Singule, Herr Landau. I am indeed a doctor, but it’s not customary to use it here. Just the last name.”
“I’ve been told that’s the way to address doctors. And you are indeed a doctor of medicine?”
“Correct, but I don’t practice it. I’m a biologist—particularly bugs, vermin. Unfortunately, I have too little time for it. I have too many other responsibilities.”
“But it’s your main interest?”
“Actually, yes. I’m really fascinated by mites. Do you know anything about them?”
“Only from what I’ve heard, Doctor.”
“Please, Singule! Make a note of it! There are as many doctors as there is sand at the beach, but we are the only Singules in the city. The name was never that common, and today it has almost disappeared.”
“You two need to talk shop. Wouldn’t it be best, Eduard, if you took Herr Landau across the way. You both have a lot to talk about, and I’ll arrange for some tea for you.”
Herr Singule agreed, and I followed him to his study. For some minutes, the conversation ranged through different subjects; I didn’t have the nerve or the drive to turn the talk to my concerns. So the talk flowed on until the biologist surprised me with an unexpected question.
“Tell me, are you from Latvia, perhaps Riga?”
“No.”
“Too bad. You should be from Latvia.”
“Is it because of my accent?”
“It has nothing to do with your accent. I need someone from Latvia.”
“To my great sadness, I have never been there.”
“And your wife?”
“She’s from Vienna.”
“That’s too bad. That doesn’t help us at all.”
“Why does it have to be Latvia, Herr Singule?”
“I need someone from Latvia. Your parents, your ancestors, anyone in the family?”
“None from Latvia.”
“I had hoped for that especially for you, Herr Landau. It would have done well by you. I have something to give to someone from Latvia. A terrific assignment that will last at least a year, and with the possibility of an extension.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You don’t even need to know the language. Just Latvia.”
“How nice of you to think of me.”
“One tries, my friend, one tries the best one can.”
“But hopefully you might find something else for me. I’m working, as perhaps you’ve already heard, primarily on a sociology of—”
“My wife already told me everything, as well as Haarburger. I’m well informed.”
“Good. And therefore I wondered if there might not be a way to consider a proposal—”
“You can make a proposal anytime. You’re completely free to do so. You don’t even have to come to my office; I can give you the form right now.”
“Thank you. And might I expect, if you recommend it, that I—”
“You didn’t let me finish talking. The form and the proposal don’t do anything for you. Nor can I recommend anything, even if I have the chance. And yet it must be approved, and there’s the rub.”
“Don’t you decide?”
“Oh, I decide a great deal. Without me, no one in Europe gets anything. But I have to be able to answer for it, and I cannot decide everything. My dear friend, what are you thinking? I’m a poor man; the money doesn’t come from my pockets. Yes, if you were from Latvia that would be fine, for then I have something, then I can do something. But alas!”
“Anything in my line of work?”
“Not immediately. But do you think I can really support a line of work? Not at all!”
“Then you have nothing to recommend to me?”
“For sociologists I have nothing. Certainly not at the moment. You can certainly apply, that I already told you. And I will see what can be done, though it’s not up to me. Most of what we give is to natural science. Physics, chemistry, biology, geology and the rest. Otherwise, only when we get special assignments. They are very popular, and everyone goes after them, and then we choose someone.”
“Will you think of me if something comes up?”
“With great pleasure. It would be an honor.”
“And in between?”
“Take the forms with you! Have a look at them! Don’t skip any questions, fill out everything scrupulously! It will all be reviewed. A lot depends on the accompanying documents. You need six copies of everything; photocopies of documents are allowed.”
“I’m missing many papers. The war. I lost so much.”
“How terrible! You have to have the proper documents! Couldn’t you order copies from over there?”
“That would be very difficult—in fact, I fear, impossible.”
“Well, my dear friend, how you take care of that is your business. I really can’t be of any help to you! Somehow you’ll have to pull a rabbit out of your hat. You’ll need them everywhere, and not just for our foundation. Just imagine, if no one had any papers, how much crime could happen! Without documents, I’m telling you, you don’t even exist.”
“I don’t exist, Herr Singule. With that, you’ve touched on the truth.”
“Go on, enough of this romantic nonsense! What you need to do, if I may, is simply sit on your behind and write. That’s not so hard, is it?”
“I write a great deal! But it’s all in vain.”
“In vain.… Do you need me to say something crass! What talk! Do what you have to do and write every Tom, Dick, and Harry, if need be, until you get those documents! If there’s no other way, make a quick trip and take care of matters in person. They’ll give you those documents or a proper copy—it’s child’s play. When you have everything together, then concentrate on a curriculum vitae.”
“A résumé?”
“Yes, a vitae. Don’t you know Latin?”
“Of course.”
“Then do it!”
“What I don’t know is what to say. Everything escapes me. The entire past …”
“Toss such sentimentality to the devil! What you experienced is of interest to no one at all. Just what you’ve done, a real résumé—education, dates, important events and achievements. That’s all. And when you have that, then work on a thorough synopsis of your planned project. That’s easy, right?”
“I hope so.”
“Enough with such resistance! And submit a sample chapter as well.”
“Happy to.”
“I understand, Doctor.”
“And get rid of the title! Are you so scatterbrained that you can’t remember that? And then the most important part—you need three, better yet, four or five references. Why do you look at me like that? Is there something else wrong?”
“No, no! But what kind of references?”
“Recommendations from internationally recognized figures, if possible from your special area, if possible from this country or America, if possible with attestations of your previous achievements and the likely scholarly worth of the planned project.”
“In all honesty, I doubt I can manage all that.”
“My dear friend, I’ve never met an applicant as difficult as you! If I didn’t like you so much, such talk by now would have forced me to throw you out.”
“Shall I leave?”
“Don’t be silly! And don’t be so sensitive! You can surely find a couple of sociologists to befriend, can’t you?”
“I should be so lucky!”
“Think for a minute. Do you know Professor Kratzenstein?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent! Then it’s done. He’s as good as having two or three!”
“If he will write something for me.”
“Oh, you’re such a pessimist! Just get on the bus tomorrow and go see him. Or, better yet, call him. Do you know his secretary?”