Uncle Jacob Amerika

In his uncle's house Karl soon became used to his new circumstances. But, indeed, his uncle indulged his slightest wishes and Karl had never to learn by hard experience, which so much embitters one's first acquaintance with foreign countries.

Karl's room was on the sixth floor of a house whose five other floors, along with three more in the basement, were taken up by his uncle's business. It was so light, what with its two windows and a door opening on a balcony, that Karl was filled with fresh astonishment every morning on coming into it out of his tiny bedroom. Where might he not have had to stay, if he had landed in this country as a destitute little emigrant? Indeed, as his uncle, with his knowledge of the emigration laws, thought highly probable, Karl might not have been admitted into the United States at all and might have been sent home again without regard to the fact that he no longer had a home. In this country sympathy was something you could not hope for; in that respect America resembled what Karl had read about it; except that those who were fortunate seemed really to enjoy their good fortune here, sunning themselves among their carefree friends.

A narrow outside balcony ran along the whole length of Karl’s room. But what would have been at home the highest vantage point in the town allowed him here little more than a view of one street, which ran perfectly straight between two rows of squarely chopped buildings and therefore seemed to be fleeing into the distance, where the outlines of a cathedral loomed enormous in a dense haze. From morning to

evening and far into the dreaming night that street was the channel for a constant stream of traffic which, seen from above, looked like an inextricable confusion, for ever newly improvised, of foreshortened human figures and the roofs of all kinds of vehicles, sending into the upper air another confusion, more riotous and complicated, of noises, dust and smells, all of it enveloped and penetrated by a flood of light which the multitudinous objects in the street scattered, carried off and again busily brought back, with an effect as palpable to the dazzled eye as if a glass roof stretched over the street were, being violently smashed into fragments at every moment.

Cautious in all things, Uncle Jacob advised Karl for the time being to take up nothing seriously. He should certainly examine and consider everything, but without committing himself. The first days of a European in America might be likened to a re-birth, and though Karl was not to worry about it unduly, since one got used to things here more quickly than an infant coming into the world from the other side, yet he must keep in mind that first judgements were always unreliable and that one should not let them prejudice the future judgements which would eventually shape one’s life in America. He himself had known new-comers, for example, who, instead of following these wise precepts had stood all day on their balconies gaping down at the street like lost sheep. That was bound to lead to bewilderment ! The solitary indulgence of idly gazing at the busy life of New York was permissible in anyone travelling for pleasure, perhaps even advisable within limits; but for one who intended to remain in the States it was sheer ruination, a term by no means too emphatic, although it might be exaggerated. And, indeed, Uncle Jacob frowned with annoyance if ever he found Karl out on the balcony when he paid one of his visits, which always occurred once daily and a^ the most diverse hours. Karl soon noticed this and in consequence denied himself as much as possible the pleasure of lingering on the balcony.

However, it was by no means the sole pleasure that he had. In his room stood an American writing-desk of superior construction, such as his father had coveted for years and tried to pick up cheaply at all kinds of auction sales without ever succeeding, his resources being much too small. This desk, of course, was beyond all comparison with the so-called American writing-desk which turned up at auction sales in Europe. For example, it had a hundred compartments of different sizes, in which the President of the Union himself could have found a fitting place for each of his state documents; there was also a regulator at one side and by turning a handle you could produce the most complicated combinations and permutations of the compartments to please yourself and suit your requirements. Thin panels sank slowly and formed the bottom of a new series or the top of existing drawers promoted from below; even after one turn of the handle the disposition of the whole was quite changed and the transformation took place slowly or at delirious speed according to the rate at which you wound the thing round. It was a very modem invention, yet it reminded Karl vividly of the traditional Christmas panorama which was shown to gaping children in the market-place at home, where he too, well wrapped in his winter clothes, had often stood enthralled, closely comparing the movement of the handle, which was turned by an old man, with the changes in the scene, the jerky advance of the Three Holy Kings, the shining out of the Star and the humble life of the Holy Manger. And it had always seemed to him that his mother, as she ' stood behind him, did not follow every detail with sufficient attention. He would draw her close to him, until he could feel her pressing against his back, and shouting art the top of his voice would keep pointing out to her the less noticeable occurrences, perhaps a little hare among the grass in the foreground, sitting up on its hind legs and then crouching as if to dart off again, until his mother would cover his mouth with her hand and very likely relapse into her former inatten-

tion. The desk was certainly not made merely to remind him of such things, yet in the history of its invention there probably existed some vague connexion similar to that in Karl’s memory. Unlike Karl, Uncle Jacob by no means approved of this particular desk; he had merely wanted to buy a well-appointed writing-desk for Karl, but nowadays these were all furnished with this new apparatus, which had also the advantage that it could be fitted to more old-fashioned desks without great expense. At any rate, Karl’s uncle never omitted to advise him against using the regulator at all, if possible, and reinforced his advice by pointing out that the mechanism was very sensitive, could easily be put out of order and was very expensive to repair again. It was ''not hard to guess that these remarks were merely pretexts, though on the other hand it would have been quite easy to lock the regulator and yet Uncle Jacob refrained from doing so.

In the first few days, during which Karl and his uncle naturally had a good number of talks together, Karl mentioned that at home he had been fond of playing the piano, though he had not played it much, having had no teaching except his mother’s rudimentary instructions. Karl was quite well aware that to volunteer this information was virtually to ask for a piano, but he had already used his eyes sufficiently to know that his uncle could afford to be lavish. Yet this suggestion was not acted upon at once; but some eight days later his uncle said, almost as if making a reluctant admission, that the piano had just arrived and Karl, if he liked, could supervise its transport. That was an easy enough task, yet not much easier than the transport itself, for the building had a furniture lift in which, without any difficulty, a whole furniture van could have been accommodated, and in this lift the piano soared up to Karl’s room. Karl could have gone up himself in the same lift as the piano and the workmen, but just beside it there was an ordinary lift free, so he went up in that instead, keeping himself at the same elevation as

the other by meaus of a lever and staring fixedly through the glass panels at the beautiful instrument which was now his property. When he had it safely in his room and struck the first notes on it, he was filled with such foolish joy that instead of going on playing he jumped up and with his hands on his hips gazed rapturously at the piano from a little distance. The acoustics of the room were excellent and they had the effect of quite dispelling his first slight discomfort at living in a steel house. True, in the room itself, despite the external appearance of the building, one could see not the slightest sign of steel, nor could one have discovered in the furnishings even the smallest detail which did not harmonize with the comfort of the whole. At first Karl set great hopes on his piano-playing and sometimes unashamedly dreamed, at least before falling asleep, of the possibility that it might exert a direct influence upon his life in America. When he opened his windows and the street noises came in, it certainly sounded strange to hear on the piano an old army song of his native country which soldiers, sprawling of an evening at barrack windows and gazing into the darkness of some square outside, sang to each other from window to window - but the street, if he looked down it afterwards, remained unchanged, only one small section of a great wheel which afforded no hand-hold unless one knew all the forces controlling its full orbit. Uncle Jacob tolerated the pianoplaying and said not a word against it, especially as Karl indulged very seldom in it; indeed, he actually brought Karl the scores of some American marches, among them the national anthem, but pure love of music could hardly explain the fact that he asked Karl one day, quite seriously, whether he would not like to learn the violin or the French horn as well.

The learning of English was naturally Karl's first and most important task. A young teacher from a neighbouring commercial college appeared in his room every morning at seven and found him already over his exercise books at the desk,

or walking up and down the room committing words to memory. Karl saw clearly that if he were to acquire English there was no time to be lost and that this was also his best chance of giving his uncle especial pleasure by making rapid progress. And indeed, though he had to confine himself at first to the simplest greetings, he was soon able to carry on in English an increasingly large part of his conversation with his uncle, whereupon more intimate topics simultaneously came up for discussion. The first American poem - a description of a fire - which Karl managed to recite to his uncle one evening, made that gentleman quite solemn with satisfaction. They were both standing at a window in Karl’s room. Uncle Jacob was looking out at the sky, from which all brightness had already faded, bringing his hands together slowly and regularly in time with the verses, while Karl stood erect beside him and with eyes fixed on vacancy delivered himself of the difficult lines. *

The better Karl’s English became, the greater inclination

his uncle showed to introduce him to his friends, arranging

only that on such occasions the English teacher should

always be at his elbow. The first person to whom Karl was

introduced one morning was a slender, incredibly supple

young man, whom Uncle Jacob brought into the room with

a string of fulsome compliments. He was obviously one of

these many millionaires’ sons who are regarded as failures by

their parents’ standards and who lead strenuous lives which

an ordinary man could scarcely endure for a single average

day without breaking down. And as if he knew or divined

this and faced it as best he could, there was always about his

lips and eyes an unchanging smile of happiness, which seemed

to embrace himself, anyone he was speaking to and the

whole world.

With the unconditional approval of Uncle Jacob, it was arranged that this young man, whose name was Mr Mack, should take Karl out riding every morning at half-past five, either in the riding-school or in the open air. Karl hesitated

A.-3

at first before consenting, since he had never sat on a horse and wished first to learn a little about riding, but as his uncle and Mack insisted so much, arguing that riding was simply a pleasure and a healthy exercise and not at all an art, he finally agreed. Of course, that meant that he had now to leave his bed at half -past four every morning, which was often a great hardship to him, since he suffered from an actual longing for sleep, probably in consequence of the unremitting attention which he had to exercise all day long; but as soon as he came into his bathroom he ceased to be sorry for himself. Over the full length and breadth of the bath stretched the spray - which of his schoolmates at home, no matter how rich, had anything equal to it and for his own use alone? - and there Karl could lie outstretched — this bath was wide enough to let him spread out his arms - and let the stream of lukewarm, hot, and again lukewarm and finally ice-cold water pour over any part of him at pleasure, or over his whole body at once. He lay there as if in a still faintly surviving enjoyment of sleep and loved to catch with his closed eyelids the last separately falling drops which, as they broke, flowed down over his face.

At the riding-school, where his uncle’s towering motor car deposited him, the English teacher would be already waiting, while Mack invariably arrived later. But Mack could be late with an easy mind, for the actual life of the riding-school did not begin until he came. The horses started out of their semi-slumber when he entered, the whips cracked more loudly through the room, and on the gallery running round it single figures suddenly appeared, spectators, grooms, riding-pupils, or whatever they were. Karl employed the time before Mack’s arrival in practising riding a little, though only the most rudimentary first exercises. There was a tall man who could reach the backs of the biggest horses almost without raising his arm, and he invariably gave Karl his scanty quarter-of-an-hour’s instruction. The results which Karl achieved were not impressive and he learned by heart

many exclamations of pain in English, gasping them out to . his English teacher, who always leant against the door, usually in a very sleepy condition. But almost all his dissatisfaction with riding ceased once Mack appeared. The tall man was sent away and soon nothing could be heard in the hall, which was still half in darkness, but the hoofs of galloping horses and hardly anything seen but Mack's uplifted arm, as he signalled his orders to Karl. After half an hour of this pleasure, fleeting as a dream, a halt was called. Mack was then always in a great hurry, said good-bye to Karl, patted him a few times on the cheek if he was particularly pleased with his riding and vanished, too pressed for time even to accompany Karl through the door. Then Karl and the English teacher climbed into the car and drove to their le$son, generally round byways, for if they had plunged into the traffic of the great street which led directly from the riding-school to his uncle's house it would have meant too great a loss of time. In any case, the English teacher soon ceased to act as escort, since Karl, who blamed himself for needlessly forcing the tired man to go with him to the ridingschool, especially since the English required in his intercourse with Mack was very simple, begged his uncle to absolve the man from that duty. And after some reflection his uncle acceded to his wish.

It took a relatively long time before Uncle Jacob would consent to allow Karl even the slightest insight into his business, although Karl often begged him to do so. It was a sort of commission and despatch agency such as, to the best of Karl's knowledge, was probably not to be found in Europe. For the business did not consist in the transference of wares from the producer to the consumer or to the dealer, but in the handling of all the necessary goods and raw materials going to and between the great manufacturing trusts. It was consequently a . business which embraced simultaneously the purchasing, storing, transport and sale of immense quantities of goods and had to maintain the most exact, unintermittent

telephonic and telegraphic communication with its various clients. The telegraphists' hall was not smaller but larger than the telegraphic office of Karl’s native town, through which he had once been shown by one of his schoolmates, who was known there. In the telephone hall, wherever one looked, the doors of the telephone boxes could be seen opening and shutting, and the noise was maddening. His uncle opened the first of these doors and in the glaring electric light Karl saw an operator, quite oblivious to any sound from the door, his head bound in a steel band which pressed the receivers against his ears. His right arm was lying on a little table as if it were strangely heavy and only the fingers holding the pencil kept twitching with inhuman regularity and speed. In the words which he spoke into the mouthpiece he was very sparing and often one noticed that though he had some objection to raise or wished to obtain more exact information, the next phrase that he heard compelled him to lower his eyes and go on writing before he could carry out his intention. Besides he did not need to say anything, as Uncle Jacob explained to Karl in a subdued voice, for the same conversation which this man was taking down was being taken down at the same time by two other operators and would then be compared with the other versions, so that errors might as far as possible be eliminated. At the moment when Uncle Jacob and Karl emerged from the box a messenger slipped into it and came out with the notes which the operator had just written. Through the hall there was a perpetual tumult of people rushing hither and thither. Nobody said good-day, greetings were omitted, each man fell into step behind anyone who was going the same way, keeping his eyes on the floor, over which he was set on advancing as quickly as he could, or giving a hurried glance at a word or figure here and there on the papers he held in his hand, which fluttered with the wind of his progress.

Tou have really gone far,’ Karl once said on one of these journeys through the building, which took several days to

traverse in its entirety, even if one did nothing more than have a look at each department.

‘And let me tell you I started it all myself thirty years ago. I had a little business at that time near the docks and if five crates came up for unloading in one day I thought it a great day and went home swelling with pride. Today my warehouses cover the third largest area in the port and my old store is the restaurant and storeroom for my sixty-fifth group of porters/

‘It's really wonderful,' said Karl.

‘Developments in this country are always rapid,' said his uncle, breaking off the conversation.

One day his uncle appeared just before dinner, which Karl had expected to take alone as usual, and asked him to put on his black suit at once and join him for dinner, together with two of his business friends. While Karl was changing in the next room, his uncle sat down at the desk and looked through the English exercise which Karl had just finished, then brought down his hand on the desk and exclaimed aloud : ‘Really first rate ! 9

Doubtless Karl’s changing went all the more smoothly on hearing these words of praise, but in any case he was now pretty certain of his English.

In his uncle’s dining-room, which he could still remember from the evening of his arrival, two tall, stout gentlemen rose to their feet, one of them called Green, the other Pollunder, as appeared during the subsequent conversation. For Uncle Jacob hardly ever dropped a word about any of his acquaintances and always left it to Karl to discover by his own observation whatever was important or interesting about them. During the dinner itself only intimate business matters were discussed, which meant for Karl an excellent lesson in commercial English, and Karl was left silently to occupy himself with his food, as if 'he were a child who had merely to sit up straight and empty his plate; but Mr Green leaned across to him and asked him in English, unmistakably

exerting himself to pronounce every word with the utmost distinctness, what in general were his first impressions of America? With a few side glances at his uncle, Karl replied fairly fully in the dead silence that followed and in his gratitude and his desire to please used several characteristic New York expressions. At one of his phrases all three gentlemen burst out laughing together and Karl was afraid that he had made a gross mistake; but no, Mr Pollunder explained to him that he had actually said something very smart. Mr Pollunder, indeed, seemed to have taken a particular fancy to Karl, and while Uncle Jacob and Mr Green returned once more to their business consultations Mr Pollunder asked Karl to bring his chair nearer, asked him countless questions about his name, his family and his voyage and at last, to give him a reprieve, began hastily, laughing and coughing, to tell about himself and his daughter, with whom he lived in a little country house in the neighbourhood of New York, where, however, he was only able to pass the evenings, for he was a banker and his profession kept him in New York the whole day. Karl was warmly invited to come out to the country house; an American so new and untried as Karl must be in need of occasional recuperation from New York. Karl at once asked his uncle’s leave to accept the invitation and his uncle gave it with apparent pleasure, yet without naming any stated time or even letting it come into consideration, as Karl and Mr Pollunder had expected.

But the very next day Karl was summoned to one of his uncle’s offices (his uncle had ten different offices in that building alone), where he found his uncle and Mr Pollunder reclining somewhat monosyllabically in two easy-chairs.

‘Mr Pollunder,’ said Uncle Jacob, who could scarcely be distinguished in the evening dusk of the room, ‘Mr Pollunder has come to take you with him to his country house, as was mentioned yesterday.’

‘I didn’t know it was to be today,’ replied Karl, ‘or else I’d have got ready/

'If you're not ready, then perhaps we'd better postpone the visit to some other time/ remarked his uncle.

'What do you need to get ready?' cried Mr Pollunder. 'A young man is always ready for anything.'

‘It isn't on his account,' said Uncle Jacob, turning to his guest, ‘but he would have to go up to his room again, and that would delay you.'

‘There's plenty of time for that,' said Mr Pollunder. ‘I allowed for a delay and left my office earlier.'

‘You see,' said Uncle Jacob, ‘what a lot of trouble this visit of yours has caused already.'

‘I’m very sorry,' said Karl, ‘but I'll be back again in a minute/ and he made to rush away.

‘Don't hurry yourself,' said Mr Pollunder, 'you aren't causing me the slightest trouble; on the contrary, it's a pleasure to have you visiting me.'

'You’ll miss your riding lesson tomorrow. Have you called it off?' ‘No,' said Karl; this visit to which he had been looking forward so much was beginning to be burdensome. ‘I didn’t know -'

‘And you mean to go in spite of that?' asked his uncle.

Mr Pollunder, that kind man, came to Karl's help.

'We'll stop at the riding-school on the way and put everything right.'

‘There's something in that,' said Uncle Jacob. ‘But Mack will be expecting you.'

‘He won't be expecting me,' said Karl, ‘but he'll turn up anyhow/ .

‘Well then?' said Uncle Jacob, as if Karl's answer had not been the slightest excuse.

Once more Mr Pollunder solved the problem : ‘But Clara' - she was Mr Pollunder’s daughter - ‘expects him too, and this very evening, and surely she* has the preference over Mack?'

Certainly,' said Uncle Jacob. 'Well then, run away to

your room/ and as if involuntarily, he drummed on the arm of his chair several times. Karl was already at the door when his uncle detained him once more with the question: ‘Of course you'll be back here again tomorrow morning for your English lesson?'

‘But my dear sir ! ' cried Mr Pollunder, turning round in his chair with astonishment, as far as his stoutness would permit him. ‘Can't he stay with us at least over tomorrow? Couldn't I bring him back early in the morning the day after?'

‘That's quite out of the question,' retorted Uncle Jacob. ‘I can’t have his studies broken up like this. Later on, when he has taken up a regular profession of some kind, I’ll be very glad to let him accept such a kind and flattering invitation even for a long time.'

‘What a contradiction ! ' thought Karl.

Mr Pollunder looked quite melancholy. ‘But for one evening and one night it’s really hardly worth while.'

‘That's what I think too,' said Uncle Jacob.

‘One must take what one can get,’ said Mr Pollunder, and now he was laughing again. ‘All right, I'll wait for you,’ he shouted to Karl, who, since his uncle said nothing more, was hurrying away.

When he returned in a little while, ready for the journey, he found only Mr Pollunder in the office; his uncle had gone. Mr Pollunder shook Karl quite gaily by both hands, as if he wished to assure himself as strongly as possible that Karl was coming after all. Karl, still flushed with haste, for his part wrung Mr Pollunder’s hands in return; he was elated at the thought of the visit.

‘My uncle wasn’t annoyed at my going?'

‘Not at all ! He didn't mean all that very seriously. He has

your education so much at heart.’

‘Did he tell you himself that he didn't mean it seriously?'

‘Oh yes,' said Mr Pollunder, drawling the words, and thus proving that he could not tell a lie.

It's strange how unwilling he was to give me leave to visit you, although you are a friend of his/

Mr Pollunder too, although he did not admit it, could find no explanation for the problem, and both of them, as they drove through the warm evening in Mr Pollunder’s car, kept turning it over in their minds for a long time, although they spoke of other things.

They sat close together and Mr Pollunder held KarPs hand in his while he talked. Karl was eager to hear as much as he could about Miss Clara, as if his impatience with the long journey could he assuaged by listening to stories that made the time appear shorter. He had never driven through the streets of New York in the evening, but though the pavements and roadways were thronged with traffic changing its direction every minute, as if caught up in a whirlwind and roaring like some strange element quite unconnected with humanity, Karl, as he strained his attention to catch Mr Pollunder’s words, had no eye for anything but Mr Pollunder’s dark waistcoat, which was peacefully spanned by a gold chain. Out of the central streets where the theatre-goers, urged by extreme and unconcealed fear of being late, hurried along with flying steps or drove in vehicles at the utmost possible speed, they came by intermediate stages to the suburbs, where their car was repeatedly diverted by mounted police .into side alleys, as the main roadway was occupied by a demonstration of metal-workers on strike and only the most necessary traffic could be permitted to use the crossroads. When the car, emerging out of dark, dully echoing narrow lanes, crossed one of these great thoroughfares which were as wide as squares, there opened out on both sides an endless perspective of pavements filled with a moving mass of people, slowly shuffling forward, whose singing was more homogeneous than any single human voice. But in the roadway, which was kept free, mounted policemen could be seen here and there sitting on motionless horses, or banner-bearers, or inscribed streamers stretching across the street, or a labour

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leader surrounded by colleagues and stewards, or an electric tram which had not escaped quickly enough and now stood dark and empty while the driver and the conductor lounged on the platform. Small groups of curious spectators stood at a distance watching the actual demonstrators, rooted to their places although they had no clear idea of what was really happening. But Karl merely leaned back happily on the arm which Mr Pollunder had put round him; the knowledge that he would soon be a welcome guest in a well-lighted country house surrounded by high walls and guarded by watch-dogs filled him with extravagant well-being, and although he was now beginning to feel sleepy and could no longer catch perfectly all that Mr Pollunder was saying, or at least only intermittently, he pulled himself together from time to time and rubbed his eyes to discover whether Mr Pollunder had noticed his drowsiness, for that was something he wished to avoid at any price.