by P. G. Glynn
Lukas said that for liking these things he was a hedonist, but even after looking this up in his dictionary Hugo was none the wiser as to what it actually meant. Papa said that Lukas wasn’t aware of the word’s true meaning, either, and had then mentioned massage parlours – of which there were many in Prague – adding that a visit to one of these would be hedonistic. He had not explained why it would be and something in his expression had stopped Hugo asking questions, so there was now no knowing whether such a visit would be a good or a bad thing. He must remember to ask Lukas. Lukas’s Onkel Leon, who had a jeweller’s shop not far from the Astronomical Clock, seemed to think that knowledge was integral to being Jewish, the torch having been handed on from father to son over countless generations. So was it because he was a Jew that Lukas was so knowledgeable and clever at school? No, it couldn’t be, since there were plenty of Jews who couldn’t hold a candle to Lukas. Hugo’s favourite place for visiting was the Hvezda Summer Palace on the White Mountain – perhaps because it reminded him somehow of home.
Now, though, he was actually home again – for the whole summer holiday – and he had not come home alone. While Lukas was his best schoolfriend Hugo also had another friend in Prague, whom he stayed with sometimes at weekends. This friend, like Lukas, was older than Hugo but instead of being months older Ferdinand Petrof was virtually a man. Ferdi lived with his mother, who was a friend of Onkel Rudolf’s, and had no father. Hugo couldn’t imagine not having Papa. That was beyond imagining and he hoped with all his heart that Papa would live forever – or at least until Hugo didn’t need him as much as he needed him now. It was too bad that people had to die. Why did they have to?
Why couldn’t God let everybody live forever so that nobody had to be parted through death from anybody? When Hugo died he intended questioning God about it, although he supposed God would just tell him that His way was best … and that there wouldn’t be any room for new people unless the old ones left. Mama said that Ferdi’s father had died of carelessness, while Papa had once said that he wasn’t dead. So was he dead or wasn’t he … and if he wasn’t, where was he? Hugo had not liked to ask Ferdi in case the asking upset him – and Mama glared so much at Papa if ever the subject was mentioned that Hugo had never had a satisfactory answer to his question. And it had taken him a very long time to persuade Mama to let Ferdi come and stay in Schloss Berger.
She had kept saying ‘no’ in the beginning and had only relented this year after he told her that it was surely wrong to keep accepting hospitality from the Petrofs without ever being hospitable in return. He had also told her that if he could have had a brother he couldn’t have wished for a better one than Ferdinand. Ferdi wasn’t his brother, was he? Hugo occasionally fantasised that he was, because he looked a bit like a Berger … but the fantasy ended when Hugo remembered that Ferdi had a mother. And Frau Petrof had not adopted him. Hugo was fairly sure of that. For one thing Ferdi looked like his mother, although of course he wasn’t fat like her. Hugo could never be sure who was fatter – Marinka Petrof or Tante Anna. If he was sure of anything it was that there was some mystery surrounding Ferdi. Perhaps this was part of his charm. And now, on Hugo’s home territory, there must surely be a chance of achieving something he had not so far achieved in Prague.
He had been trying ever since he was ten to beat Ferdi at chess but it was proving no simple task. The fact that Ferdi had been Junior Chess Champion in 1930 distracted Hugo when they were playing a game and he felt that if only he didn’t know about the Championship win he would be mentally better equipped to outwit his friend. But, because he knew, he tended to panic when the heat was on and to think that because Ferdi was a champion he could not be beaten. Onkel Rudolf (who himself seldom won against Ferdi) had said that Hugo had the ability but lacked the necessary belief. He had spoken similarly about Hugo’s prowess with the violin, which he said showed promise but no dedication. The difference was that Hugo had not wanted to make music whereas he did want to be better than Ferdi at chess. So he must start believing in himself …
Perhaps he did believe, at last, because their current game was well advanced … and Ferdi had just moved his remaining rook a little carelessly. Maybe he had not seen that Hugo could now fork his bishop and queen … and maybe, if Hugo kept believing, he …
“Excuse me, Master Hugo,” said Loisy from the Rosenzimmer doorway. “I know you gave instructions that you were not to be interrupted … but your grandmother wishes to see you.”
“Does she?” he said absently, striving to keep his concentration wholly on the game and not to lose his advantage. “Tell Omama that I’ll be along to see her just as soon as I’ve finished this.”
+++++
Marta was in bed, resting, when she received Hugo’s message. Theodor Novak, her friend and physician, had advised plenty of rest, telling her this would help her heart. She had known, however, that the help would be very temporary … and that she must make full use of the time she had left. Seventy-eight was not a bad age to prepare to meet one’s Maker but she was not ready to meet Him just yet. And although she had no choice in the matter she felt that it was wrong of her to think of leaving the world when there was so much turmoil for the family to cope with.
Marta would have credited Hindenburg, as the re-elected President of the Weimar Republic, with more sense than to have appointed Adolf Hitler as Chancellor of Germany, but it seemed that the President had been duped, along with Ludwig and at least half the German populace. What a sorry state of affairs! What a dangerous situation!
She had probably worn her heart out with worry. Quite apart from the Ludwig and Hitler factor, things were pretty precarious financially. After the withdrawal of American capital following Wall Street’s collapse in 1929 the Osterreichische Kreditanstalt in Vienna had also gone under, with repercussions in Czechoslovakia of falling foreign trade and of rationalisation within some industries, resulting in wide-scale unemployment. The Sudeten Germans having been harder hit with job losses than the Czechs or Slovaks, old conflicts had flared again with fighting between the factions: fights welcomed by Konrad Henlein, who used them in propaganda to increase his electorate. And it seemed to the Czechs that the Sudeten Germans were just trifling with Henleinism until they could have Hitlerism.
Marta sighed. The weight of responsibility she felt was heavy. Not that she could be held responsible for world or even for Czechoslovak affairs, but she had brought up three sons and had somehow succeeded in bringing none of them up as realists. She was due to leave them and they were not fit to be left.
First there was Ludwig who had become lapdog to a man so evil as to defy description.
Then there was Rudolf who lived for his music and for little else except himself. He had two women and a son who adored him but he either inhabited some world other than theirs or else was so totally selfish that he could not see their anguish – Anna’s especially. Anna knew of his son, but not from him. She knew of Ferdinand from an innocent chance remark of Hugo’s and had come to Marta with her knowledge – not wanting to ‘trouble’ Rudolf! She had even, because it was Hugo’s strong wish, insisted on Ferdinand coming for this visit and it was Anna’s insistence that had finally convinced Marie she should be less rigid. Rudolf didn’t deserve Anna and nor, for that matter, did he deserve Marinka who was a good mother to his son and who kept a second home for him in Prague.
Third, but not last, came Otto – who was closest to her heart. He, thanks to her generosity, had become a spendthrift – splashing money about like water, irrespective of actual need. It didn’t bother him that the Berger business concerns were no longer as buoyant as they had once been. Why would it, when he had never had to work to earn – and when his mother had feathered his nest so bountifully? And why should he still his tongue when she had never taught him self-discipline? But unless he stilled it he could well end up in one of those terrible camps one heard about …
Marta knew to her mental cost of a doggerel being whispered by Bavarians: ‘Lie
ber Gott mach mich stumm, Dass ich nicht nach Dachau kumm’. And she knew that Otto would need to be forcibly struck dumb if he was to be spared from Dachau or such … or by his own brother. Despairing of his ever voluntarily shutting up, she had wondered whether his verbal diarrhoea was due to sheer idiocy or to the lucky star he had been born under. Since Otto was not stupid Marta had concluded that his lucky star was to blame for his total disregard for his own and his family’s safety. Having been hugely fortunate from the day he was born, he simply couldn’t conceive of any change in his fortunes. And she had actively contributed to his happy-go-lucky state! Oh, the mistakes she had made …
Marta sighed again. So many mistakes … so many wrongs done that she could not now undo. Must she go to her grave ready to beg Emil’s and Carla’s forgiveness in the afterlife, admitting at the same time that she was leaving her sons ill-equipped to deal with this life after she died?
Yes to the first question, no to the second. She must have one last talk with each of her children – with especial emphasis for Otto on the atrocities being perpetrated in concentration camps as Hitler honoured his pledge to rid Germany of Minusmenschen. Otto’s stomach was not strong and perhaps all he needed to bring him to his senses was a shock. Not that the shock of being caught up in Vienna’s civil war early last year, after the Austrian Socialists’ defeat by Engelbert Dollfuss and the supporting Heimwehr, had stopped him talking – no, not even when Dollfuss had workers for the Socialist Municipality of Vienna shot or imprisoned for resisting his Government! Otto naively believed that nothing bad could happen to him … so Marta must change his belief! And she must do something effective about Ludwig. If she could secure Otto’s future solely at the expense of Ludwig’s then so be it, for she would not hesitate to do this. Yes, there was much to be done and possibly only today to count on. So there was no time to waste. What a nuisance it was that Hugo was taking so long!
Marta must have slept for when she looked next her grandson was standing right by her bed, though she had neither seen nor heard him entering the room. “You aren’t ill, are you, Omama?” Hugo asked anxiously, stooping to kiss her.
How tall he had grown since his spring vacation! It hurt her to think that she would not live to see him become a man. “I’m … tired,” she told him, clasping his hand. “I seem to tire easily these days. I suppose that’s natural, at my age. How are things with you? What have you been doing?”
“Believing in myself,” he said, his elation showing. “It was quite a battle and took me four-and-a-quarter hours altogether, but in the end I finally beat Ferdinand at chess.”
“You did?” She beamed at him, her weariness forgotten for a precious moment. “That’s quite an achievement. He’s a formidable opponent. So, you’ve learned a valuable lesson, Liebchen, which will always stand you in good stead: if you believe you can do a thing – absolutely anything – you can do it. Begin with belief and there’s no knowing where you will end. Never doubt your own strength.”
“I’ll try not to,” Hugo said, his instinct telling him that something was amiss. As well as being in bed in the daytime, there was a change in Omama … almost as if she were somewhere distant. She was also speaking as if not necessarily expecting to speak to him again. “I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly experiencing an overwhelming sense of impending loss. “It was wrong of me not to come at once, when Loisy told me … ”
“It wasn’t. I’d have been very cross if because of me you’d lost to Ferdi whereas, as things are, I’m proud of the fact that you grasped your opportunity.”
“Are you really?” Hugo asked, helping his grandmother into a sitting position, propped up on six pillows.
“Beyond question!” Marta reassured him. “Opportunities often come singly, you see, and must never be thrown to the wind. They’re far too precious and the losing of them just brings regret. Ideally, as long as we watch that in the process we don’t become selfish, we should grasp each one that presents itself. What is your next ambition in chess?”
“To beat Ferdi again!”
She smiled, then said: “Would you like to be a champion chess-player?”
“I’d sooner breed champion sheep.”
“Would you, indeed? So you’d prefer being a farmer to being an industrialist?”
Hugo frowned. “I would, if … ”
“ … it weren’t for what you see as your duty?” When he nodded she said: “I didn’t think so at the time but, with hindsight, I consider your mother was right to send you away to school. For the fact is, Hugo, that your school is moulding you into a fine human being … probably a finer one than you could have been had you stayed here in Herrlichbach. A man needs to think for himself, you see, and to seek his individuality … and to do these things he needs to be set free. For selfish reasons I kept my sons tied to me and in an odd sense they are still children, compared with you. I did them no favours but I believe that your mother, in her unselfishness, has favoured you hugely. Remember that, if ever you are tempted toward self-pity for having been banished, as it were. Your schooling isn’t in any degree banishment from Schloss Berger. It is perfect preparation for an uncertain future.” While Hugo was still digesting all this she asked him: “How do you view your duty?”
“I must run J.A. Berger & Sons … mustn’t I?”
Clasping his hand tightly Marta answered: “There’s no ‘must’ about it. The last thing I’d wish for my cherished grandson is that he be committed unwillingly to industry … besides which we don’t know, do we, how life is going to be?”
“You mean, because of what’s happening in Germany?”
“That’s my meaning, exactly!” She added after a moment’s thought: “As well, of course, as … divisions within our own family.”
“Between Onkel Ludwig and Vati?”
“Those two do trouble me.” Marta smiled to dilute his worry. “Cutting off your father’s tongue is the only solution, I sometimes think!”
Hugo grinned. “I’ve thought the same thing.” His expression clouded. “But Vati is right in his politics, isn’t he? It’s Onkel Ludwig who’s wrong, surely.”
“I agree. But they both need to leave the nursery and see the wider issues. Hitler and his policies are not to be treated lightly. Perhaps you, sweetheart, are in a stronger position than I to help your father see sense. Will you help him?”
“Natuerlich!” Omama was speaking to him as if he were an adult and not just a boy of fourteen. Hugo felt very responsible consequently. “Do you reckon we’ll go to war with Germany?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“My friend Lukas said Hindenburg was off his head, appointing Hitler as Chancellor.”
“I like the sound of Lukas more and more!” A sudden thought struck Marta. “He’s … Jewish, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is … but Dachau is in Germany!”
“Of course it is!” she soothed him, marvelling that he believed Dachau’s to be the only such camp and also at his belief that a border between two countries represented security. “And it never does to expect bad things. I’ve come to the conclusion that expecting them helps them happen, whereas if we expect the best then that happens. None of which,” she said briskly, “deals with your query about having to run J.A. Berger & Sons. Such a task is by no means compulsory. Whatever the circumstances when you inherit, you have choices and must never forget that. You can choose what to do, Hugo, and must do so. If your heart’s in farming it would be a terrible thing to become an industrialist. That said, for well over a century we Bergers have been employing loyal workers who rely on us for their livelihood and it is up to us to repay our debt to them by keeping their families fed. But we can continue to shoulder our responsibilities through delegation, and Franz on my instructions is already looking for someone to take over from him. He and I are nearing the end of our stewardship and now we need some sensible young blood to run the factory, for the time being at least. The wind of change is blowing and, although we aren’t as badly off in
the linen industry as they are in the cotton industry, we’re a lot worse off than we were. Fortunately we’ve been able to obtain some much-needed raw materials from abroad, which takes care of the immediate future. After that … who knows what will happen? I certainly don’t … but this I do know: we all have a little voice within to which we don’t always listen. If you listen to yours, Hugo, and act on your instinct you’ll find it impossible to go far wrong. Will you do as I suggest … remembering it was my suggestion?”
Hugo now knew that she was saying ‘goodbye’ to him. How was he to bear it? “I will,” he assured her, adding: “I think the voice you mentioned is telling me something.”
“It is? Then test it!”
“Ferdi would make a good industrialist. He has a brilliant brain and is interested in going into business.”
“Now that is sound thinking,” Marta said, “and offering the job to Ferdi is an intriguing option. I’ll certainly speak to him.” She lay back and closed her eyes and for a few terrified moments Hugo believed she had died. To his profound relief she then opened them again and said: “But before I do anything else I have a vital letter to write.”
“I’ll post it for you later, shall I?”
