Joseph Roth- a Life in Letters

by Michael Hofmann

  What now? Paris is more expensive than ever, I have a terrific reputation, which makes it impossible for me to hawk myself around—hence no prospects.

  What are you up to? And Sasha?7 It costs me a lot to write these sorry lines—if I had any better news, I’d have written long ago.

  Greetings from your old

  Joseph Roth

  1. Ludwig Marcuse (1894–1971), German Jewish biographer, essayist, theater critic for the Frankfurter Generalanzeiger. Went into exile in March 1933 to Paris, and Sanary-sur-Mer, in 1938 on to Los Angeles, where he became professor of German literature and philosophy at USC.

  2. Vossische Zeitung: elegantly described by Hermann Kesten as having been started by Lessing and ended by Hitler.

  3. On 13 May 1927 prices on the Berlin stock market suffered precipitous declines.

  4. Kaliski: worked in the Ullstein Verlag.

  5. Lania: Leo Lania (1896–1961), journalist, biographer, novelist. Went into exile in 1933. Wrote an account of Willy Brandt’s coming to power.

  6. I.e., the BBC.

  7. The later Mrs. Marcuse. Bronsen tells the lovely story of how they met: Marcuse was upset after being dumped by some other flame, Roth reminded him that the world was full of attractive women, and pointed to the waitress in the bar in Berlin where they were sitting. This was Erna, who, a little later, became Sasha when Marcuse told Roth that he loved her dearly, but found her Berlin speech full of embarrassing solecisms. Roth’s solution was to dub her Sasha and claim she was a Russian princess; his policy with Friedl, his own wife, was not dissimilar, but much less successful.

  44. To Bernard von Brentano

  Paris, 19 June 1927

  Dear friend,

  thank you for your letter and review.1 You shouldn’t worry: there is nothing finer than being bribed, I’ve long prided myself on that condition. It’s the height of morality. More than for your review, though, I’m grateful for your letter. If it weren’t that the book was with Schmiede, it might be a great success. Stefan Zweig, Toller, Meier-Graefe2 have all written to me. Do you have an address for Emil Ludwig,3 by any chance? I’d like to send him a copy. He was here, and I would have tried to meet him if I’d been well. As it is, I read an interview with him in the Nouvelles Littéraires4—and for the first time felt something like respect for him. He’s the only one who tells the truth about Germany, literature, his preferences and opinions. What’s your opinion of Keyserling?5 Absurd and completely unimportant figure! I’ve yet to hear a German talk the way he does—twerp. Of course, it’s easy for L. to be brave. But some people can’t be prevented from being deceitful or polite (as people call it), so consumed are they with the task of “representing” Germany.

  The paper has treated me shabbily. Reifenberg will tell you about it, though you’ll have to make allowance for his conciliatory manner. You don’t see the paper anywhere, I think it must have a smaller readership than even the Hamburger Fremdenblatt! Ullstein has written to me again.

  I’ll probably be better in two weeks, go to Frankfurt, then Berlin. It’s not so awful that you’re in Frankfurt. The closer to the epicenter of the disaster, the calmer it probably feels. Renew a couple of old friendships, move in a society that impresses the snobs, go to a dinner club where the saddest knights in the world flank the saddest king.

  Where is your wife? I send you my regards, and thank you for your kind words—I’m afraid I can’t reply in kind, because I haven’t read anything of yours for a while. I remain, as ever your old

  Joseph Roth

  1. review: a review of JR’s book The Wandering Jews.

  2. Meier-Graefe: Julius Meier-Graefe (1867–1935), art critic, novelist. Co-founder of the journal Pan. Supposedly matched Roth’s royalty of one mark per line at the FZ, and the only other writer to do so.

  3. Ludwig: Emil Ludwig (1881–1948), journalist, biographer, novelist.

  4. Nouvelles Littéraires: a literary weekly in Paris, founded in 1922.

  5. Keyserling: Count Hermann Keyserling (1880–1946), popular philosopher.

  45. To Ludwig Marcuse

  Paris, 22 June 1927

  Dearest Dr. Marcuse,

  thank you for your letter, your touching anxiety on my behalf, your friendly offer. You have no idea how little Reifenberg is able to accomplish for someone like me. Some resent me because of my talent, and others—the bosses—because I’m ornery and intractable. Even so, I will try Ullstein once more. (Keep it under your hat.) Reifenberg has written to say this and that. Then the company goes and does the opposite. At any rate, they still haven’t sent me any money. If and when they do, I’ll be in Frankfurt on July 2 or 3. You know exactly how things stand, and there’s nothing to be done about S.1 He doesn’t like me, and takes the worse state of the newspaper as a pretext to get rid of me. I can stand it.

  Will you be in Frankfurt?

  Till when can I wire you for the fare to Frankfurt, if the need arises?

  My wife is well. She sends her best to you both. Drop me a line. I’m feeling a bit better.

  In old comradeship your old

  Joseph Roth

  1. I.e., Heinrich Simon.

  46. To Ludwig Marcuse

  Paris, 28 June 1927

  Dear Marcuse,

  I have to go to Deauville for 3 days for the Bäderblatt,1 because it will bring in a little money. Unfortunately, my dear fellow, it means I won’t be able to see you in Frankfurt. I’ll stay there a week, and then Berlin, or else perhaps go on a tour of Germany. The business with the Foreign Ministry is awful. I’m afraid it kept several of the articles. We’ll see each other after your return. I take it you’ll be going via Berlin? I’ll be able to tell you personally what I’m not really able to write. Your friendship, let me say this, almost frightens me. Your comradeship goes to a point I’m sure I’ll never reach—and there’s no point in thanking you any more, because that’s not enough. Suffice to say, I won’t forget it—if that does.

  I hope you and Sasha have a good trip, and offer you my warmest greetings—from your grateful

  Joseph Roth

  Bye!

  1. Cf. “A Couple of Days in Deauville,” in Report from a Parisian Paradise.

  47. To Bernard von Brentano

  Marseille, 31 July 1927

  Dear friend,

  the news of your father’s death has just reached me. (I go to pick up my mail every ten days or so.) I never got to meet him, but even so I mourn his passing. I imagine he was one of those characters that no longer exist in Germany, a person with the aura of the Counter-Reformation, and the old Holy Roman Empire. You know how drawn I am to such people, even if most of them don’t share my politics.

  I mourn his death of course not least for you, my friend, because you still needed him, and it would have been only fair if he had lived to see your literary fledging. His passing marks a turning point in your life. If you feel too alone, then accept my assurance that I am standing at your shoulder—now, and in every enterprise in which you should feel in danger or alone.

  Don’t take it amiss if I tell you that such moments are necessary and even fruitful. They attach us to the beyond, it’s a little like going to church, which of course we don’t do.

  Write to me through Miss Weber—but only if you want to.

  Please send the enclosed letters to your brother. I don’t know his address.

  Always your old

  Joseph Roth

  Give my regards to your mother.

  48. To Benno Reifenberg

  Grenoble, 17 August 1927

  Dear Mr. Reifenberg,

  I hope you are already off on vacation with wife and child. I am trundling across France, a wandering writer, a genuine minnesinger. I hope my novel doesn’t appear before you get back. I must see the galleys, if you write to
the office, ask them to send them to the Wagner address in Paris.

  My new novel is wonderful. (Keep it under your hat: I’m ashamed to tell anyone else.) I couldn’t after all muster the strength or the brazenness to write a novel in episodes for the Illustrierte. All I’ve done is written one called

  Zipper and His Father.1

  I’m looking forward to reading it to you! It’s so wonderful when you pay close attention, and are open and engaged!

  I’ll be done in 12 days.

  When are you back?

  I met Dr. Simon in Marseille. Very happy. He looks like a stripling—or a stripeling—in his striped summer suit.

  Kisses to Jan, and both Maryla’s hands.

  Have a lovely time.

  Don’t forget your old

  Joseph Roth, and read the last two volumes of Flaubert’s correspondence.

  1. Zipper and His Father (Munich: Kurt Wolff Verlag, 1928).

  49. To Stefan Zweig

  Glion near Montreux, 8 September 1927

  Dear esteemed Mr. Zweig,1

  I’ve been in debt to you for an unconscionably long time. You sent me kind words on my Jewish book.2 I thank you for them.

  I don’t agree with you when you say the Jews don’t believe in an afterlife. But that’s a debate that would take an awful lot of time and space.

  I’m thinking of bringing out an ampler version of the book in the course of the next few years. Perhaps I can combine some of the research with my reporting work for the FZ.

  In the autumn I’m bringing out my next book (a novel, or rather, a sort of novel)3 with Kurt Wolff. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to have a copy sent to you.

  With sincerest thanks and regards

  Joseph Roth

  1. Zweig: Stefan Zweig (1881–1942), privately wealthy writer, translator, collector, patron. In touch with most of the leading personalities of the time—from Rilke to Freud, see his autobiography, The World of Yesterday—and probably the best-selling international writer of his day.

  2. my Jewish book: The Wandering Jews, 1927.

  3. a sort of novel: Flight Without End (Munich: Kurt Wolff Verlag, 1927) was subtitled “a report.” It marked the height—the beginning and end, really—of JR’s flirtation with the so-called Neue Sachlichkeit, or “New Objectivity.”

  50. To Félix Bertaux1

  Hotel Foyot, Paris2

  16 September 1927

  I am just back from vacation for 2 days, and am deeply sorry I don’t have a moment to see you before my departure. I have to go back to Germany—already, and contrary to the wishes I told you of on the occasion of our last time together. The silver lining is the fact that I will be able to meet your son3 in Berlin—and as I am looking forward very much to showing him something that other people might not be able to tell him about, I would ask you to let me know his address in Berlin, and how long he will be there; either via the FZ, the Kurt Wolff Verlag, or my wife, who will probably be here for some time yet.

  My regards to your wife.

  Yours truly,

  Joseph Roth

  My wife will either be staying here or at 23 rue de Tournon. Her address is mine too.

  1. Félix Bertaux (1881–1948), leading French Germanist and critic, friend of the Mann brothers Thomas and Heinrich, author of the standard work on German literature between 1880 and 1927, Panorama de la littérature allemande contemporaine (Paris, 1928).

  2. Hotel Foyot: JR’s favored residence in Paris or pretty well anywhere. See the elegy he wrote for it in 1938, “Rest while Watching the Demolition, in Report from a Parisian Paradise.

  3. son: Pierre Bertaux (1907–1986), a Germanist like his father, specializing in Hölderlin.

  51. To Bernard von Brentano

  Frankfurt am Main

  20 September 1927

  My dear Brentano,

  thank you for your troubling letter. Still, part of me thinks it can’t be as bad as you say, at least from what I hear from dear good Mr. Reifenberg. I know he is such an inveterate optimist, he often distorts things the other way. But there’s no call for you to become nervous. Human relationships with newspapers are just impossible. For every decent, confident, self-willed individual there comes a time he must break. As far as I’m concerned, I’m hoping to be able to give up journalism as my principal occupation fairly soon. If you’re smart about it, you’ll be able to yourself in 2–3 years. You have the talent.

  I don’t think you can present yourself to Ullstein, unless invited to. Would you like me to recommend you to Katz?1 I’ll write you the warmest note of which I’m capable. He is not without influence, he’s the man who wrote those great travel pieces and started the Grüne Post2 (or was it Welt). I don’t understand why you continually want to move in Jewish circles. If you gave the least indication you wanted to, you’d be the big chief at the DAZ.3 They are deficient in temperament, and could use men with a line to intellect. The people there would be more grateful than Jews, they are freer and more receptive. The concept of the reactionary has moved again—for now. Have you not noticed that? If you only wanted to, you would have all the necessary requisites to be an important figure—over there. Whereas if you stay here, all you have to look forward to are a couple more years of inadequate pay or poor job or scheming Jews. There you would be the smart Jew—and your own man on top of that. Do you think freedom or intellect can be found with the Reichsbanner?4 I’d a thousand times rather Hindenburg than Koch5—more honest, stronger, freer.

  I’m bored, had to dash off a miserable article for someone else about a wretched trade fair. Hope to be back in Berlin soon, and write 2 or 3 articles. Then it’s Russia again—in the spring. Since my Russian pieces were not up to my usual standard, I have to revise them continually. (But keep that to yourself.) Write to

  your Joseph Roth

  1. Katz: Richard Katz (1888–1968), travel writer, correspondent for the Vossische Zeitung. Worked for Ullstein Verlag, still a major German publisher today.

  2. Die grüne Post: a weekly paper for country people.

  3. DAZ: Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, newspaper for heavy industry.

  4. Reichsbanner: liberal soldiers’ union in the Weimar Republic.

  5. Koch: Erich Koch-Weser (1875–1944), one of the founders of the German Democratic Party; from 1919 to 1921, minister of the interior, 1928 to 1929, minister of justice.

  52. To Benno Reifenberg

  Strasbourg, Tuesday [1927]

  Esteemed Mr. Reifenberg,

  1. I’m returning Holitscher’s1 manuscript by the same post. I didn’t care for it. It had some potential, but for H.’s unbearable views on grand monde, fashion, women, prostitution, etc. A man who is only familiar with life in Berlin or Munich, is naïve, and doesn’t understand the first thing about women, shouldn’t write about such topics. It’s just one more sorry confirmation that the German author remains hidebound and ignorant. No homme social he.

  2. The first of my thin but full Diaries will go to you tomorrow. I’m pleased. Setting off deliberately from the personal, it slowly spreads into the universal. My work as a reporter is always done with a book in mind, which doesn’t stop it from falling apart into separate articles. The binding is my style, is me. You will see.

  3. I’m finished with the Saarland.2 I left because I wasn’t able to write anything while there. I need to fill two more diaries, almost a book. I have visited factories and a mine. For half a day I worked as a salesman, got drunk at night, and slept with an ugly hotel chambermaid from sheer wretchedness. But I am steeped in the Saarland, and know it as well as I know Vienna. You will see.

  4. I’m going to go to Paris for a few days. My wife is very ill in St. Raphael. I may have to take her to Frankfurt. From Thursday, my address is c/o Wagner 8 rue Mignard.

  5. In about 10 days I’ll
be through with writing my reportage. Where would you like me to go then?

  6. I can’t get by on the money. In 4 weeks, I’ve gone through 500 marks. And they use francs. 6a.

  7. I am very widely known—almost popular—in the Saarland. Asked to give a talk on Russia, at the request of some cultivated middle-class people. The paper is widely and attentively read. The only place where we are ahead of BT, Voss., and Cologne. People mostly very much in favor. Complaints about the books pages. [. . .] Promotion, sales, wooing of subscribers, advertising space, all inadequate. Bäderblatt is popular. My novel much admired. Kracauer’s photograph likewise. [. . .]

  I think that’s everything!

  Best wishes, your

  Joseph Roth

  1. Holitscher: Arthur Holitscher (1869–1941), travel writer and novelist. He was Thomas Mann’s model for the awful writer Spinell in the novella Tristan.

  2. Saarland: Roth was engaged on writing a series of articles on the Saarland and Lorraine, which appeared in the FZ in 1927 under the title of “Letters from Germany.”

  53. To his parents-in-law

  Hotel Englischer Hof

  Frankfurt am Main

  30 November 1927

  My dear parents,1

  thank you for the gloves and the kind letter. I’m going to be here for another 10 days, then to the Ruhr, and then probably joining Friedl in Paris. We could only go to Vienna if I managed to sell my new novel first, but the chances of doing that by Christmas are slim. Also, to get a better offer, it would be more advisable to allow its predecessor a little more time. I hope it is a success! There’s no point in going to Vienna with a little money, and Hedi2 needs our expenses even more than she needs our physical presence. I send her my very best.