Three Lives: A Biography of Stefan Zweig (49 page)

While Stefan and Friderike were arguing about their future domicile and the sale of the house in Salzburg, they had been careful to avoid any mention of divorce. On the other hand it was becoming increasingly clear that it was no longer possible to sustain a marriage under the present conditions. Alfred Zweig claims that negotiations for the annulment of the marriage had been formally initiated back in May 1937. On the day after the court judgement granting a separation, Stefan, who hitherto had been impatient for the whole affair to be over, apparently suffered a “serious nervous relapse”, whereupon he asked Friderike’s lawyer, Friedrich Meiler, to request the judge to suspend enforcement of the judgement until further notice—which is what then happened. The particulars of this story, according to Alfred, were known to Stefan’s friend and confidant
Emil Fuchs as well as to the two lawyers concerned. It was not until the following year that Stefan wrote to his brother with the news that he and Friderike had divorced “cleanly”.
²¹

Curiously, there is no mention of this matter in the letters that Stefan and Friderike exchanged during those days in the spring of 1937. In the past Alfred had strongly advised Stefan—indeed pressed him—to separate from Friderike at long last. If Stefan had had his way, the divorce could probably have taken place at the beginning of 1937, but at that time there were still too many unresolved issues for Friderike. Had Stefan initially sought to reassure his closest confidants—his brother and Emil Fuchs—by telling them about the alleged start of divorce proceedings, only to string them along subsequently with talk of his “serious nervous relapse” in order to avoid any further discussion with them of the complicated situation with Friderike and his own faults and failings in the matter? The surviving documents do not provide an answer to the question. All we do know is that the drama was dragged out over several more months.

One important reason for not talking openly about the divorce was Stefan’s desire to protect his elderly and ailing mother. In the event the masquerade served little purpose, because Ida Zweig had learnt about his plans for separation through third parties, as confirmed by a letter that Stefan sent her shortly before her death in August 1938:

Dear Mama, [ … ] you hint at something, evidently Fritzi has written to you as if a divorce had already taken place. This is not the case—alas! Even though everything was ready a year and a half ago, I didn’t go through with it at the time out of consideration for you. I didn’t want her or any of her relatives bothering you about it. Now I’m afraid it is going to be much harder to do it [ … ]. She doesn’t have an easy time of it with her daughters, who have thrown away every chance of a decent marriage in their stupid craving for pleasure. I’m just pleased that I don’t have to see the two young ladies any more.
²²

By the time of Ida Zweig’s death the situation had grown even more complicated. A few weeks before the
Anschluss
Friderike had travelled to Paris, where her younger daughter Suse planned to work for a time in a photographic studio. Meanwhile Alix remained at the house in the Nonntal district of Salzburg. On their way back from a holiday in Portugal in February 1938 Stefan and Lotte also stopped off in Paris, and met up with Friderike on several occasions. Three weeks after Stefan had left for
London, Friderike was still in Paris when she learnt that German troops had marched into Austria. It was impossible for her to return, because the Gestapo was already carrying out raids in many places across the country. Even the house of Alfred Zweig’s in-laws was searched, ostensibly because it was suspected that Stefan Zweig, the famous author whose works were banned, might be hiding here. The authorities knew very well, of course, that Zweig was out of the country and long gone: but measures such as these were well calculated to intimidate the population. Friderike’s daughter Alix sought to save what she could, but the remaining furniture that had been placed in storage for shipment, as well as the mementos from their former home on the Kapuzinerberg, were all seized by the Gestapo. Some items were later auctioned off, others, including the manuscript of
Jeremias
dedicated to Friderike, have disappeared without trace.

Following the loss of her house, furniture and a large part of her fortune, Friderike remained in exile in Paris for the present. After more bitter wrangling, largely over her financial provision, the petition for divorce was finally filed in Salzburg a week after the death of Ida Zweig. Two lawyers now set about settling the matter in court. Since Friderike was the plaintiff in the suit, Stefan had to admit sole liability for the failure of the marriage. On 22nd November 1938 Stefan and Friderike Zweig were officially divorced at their last shared place of residence. It was his express wish that Friderike should continue to use his surname after they had separated. They met on numerous occasions in subsequent years, and their regular exchange of letters was to be sustained right up until the last hours of Stefan’s life.

While the year 1938 had brought little in the way of positive news for Zweig, many cares had in fact been lifted from his shoulders. It seemed that after all the struggles, leave-takings and losses he could now begin to turn his mind to his writing again at long last. In the personal sphere two things now took special priority. Firstly, Stefan and Lotte planned to marry, and secondly they wanted to try and become British citizens. In order to qualify for citizenship one had to have lived in the country for five years, and of course to have a clean record. But time was pressing if Stefan wished to maintain his freedom of movement—at the end of August 1938 he had written to the Home Office in London to say that his Austrian passport was due to expire imminently, in the course of a planned tour of the USA. He explained that it was a point of honour with him not to request an extension of the document from the German authorities who were now responsible for such matters. For this reason (the letter
continued) he was now applying for the issue of an equivalent document by the British authorities—and if this was not possible he was prepared to be classified as stateless. The first sign of progress in the matter came on 29th December, when an official notice published in the
Daily Telegraph
and the
Times
informed readers that Zweig had made an application for naturalisation, and that any valid objections must be submitted in writing. Such notices were a standard formality, and nobody lodged an objection. Zweig was then able to supply the requisite references attesting to his blameless conduct. Among those who vouched for him were his publisher Newman Flower and the art dealer Archibald G B Russell, who had sold him William Blake’s
King John
more than thirty years before.

Meanwhile Lotte submitted her own applications, enclosing the necessary documentation. When she began working for Zweig no application had been made for a work permit, since she had spent most of her time travelling with him abroad; as far as the authorities were concerned, she had only been employed by him in England for a few weeks a year. Driven now by his need to play it safe in all things, Zweig had sought to clarify the position in February 1936, and he had asked the staff of the refugee organisation in Woburn House for assistance. The secretary of the organisation, E N Cooper, immediately made application to the Ministry of Labour—with the desired results. In his letter to the Ministry he noted that when submitting his request Zweig had been extremely concerned that if his secretary’s work permit were refused, it would be a total disaster for his work. Mundane problems of this sort would be the ruin of him, he had complained with feeling—but this was probably just the typical behaviour of an artistic type, as Cooper dryly observes in his letter (“I suppose, like many of these artistic gentlemen, he is very temperamental, which a nerve specialist described once as ‘90% temper and 10% mental’”).
²³
The applications submitted by Stefan and Lotte were still being processed when the two of them left for a lecture tour of North America in December 1938, armed with provisional identification papers. The packed schedule and the success of the tour induced in Zweig such a state of euphoria that he briefly forgot all his woes. He wrote from New York on 10th January that he was now planning to travel on to Boston and Philadelphia, having “done Carnegie Hall here on Thursday (in front of 2,800 people) and all in English”.
²⁴
Ten days later he was at the Netherland Plaza Hotel in Cincinnati: “It is fantastic to be speaking every day to an audience of 1,000–2500 people about things of the mind.”
²⁵
On 6th February he
arrived in Salt Lake City, had already given sixteen lectures, and was looking forward immensely to the remaining four.

On his return to England Zweig gave a radio talk for American schoolchildren, broadcast direct from London to the USA under the
Nation’s School of the Air
programme. Right at the beginning of the broadcast he announced that he was speaking from another continent, where people had finished their lunch long ago, whereas children in America had only just had breakfast. He told his “dear young friends”
²⁶
that “it takes about one week for a steamer to cross the ocean that lies between you and me”, and while assuring them that, contrary to what they might imagine, he was not “at least a hundred years old” and did not have a “snow-white beard”, he explained that neither aeroplanes nor the radio through which they were listening to him now had even existed when he was a child. And he took great pleasure in telling them how his parents’ cook always ran and hid whenever the bell of the newly installed telephone rang in the apartment.

While Zweig was away Richard Friedenthal, who had likewise emigrated to England, took care of the apartment in Hallam Street and sent regular reports to America on the latest events and incoming mail. So what had he found to write about? He mentions a water leak in the building, which had ruined the carpet but fortunately did not damage any books or furniture; and early newspaper reports about Zweig’s citizenship application, which were peppered with all sorts of “stories, fanciful tales and false reports”. While Zweig was on his travels Friedenthal decided not to bother him with all the many cries for help from expatriates known and unknown who turned to him in their hour of need with all manner of questions. But he did single out “one curiosity” for special mention: “Stefan Zweig from Milan writes to ask for help in immigrating to England. He can’t help his name: his parents called him thus because they love your books so much.”
²⁷

Mail of this kind had a visibly depressing effect on Zweig. It served to confront him directly, and all too graphically, with the sufferings endured by the refugees. At the same time every letter reminded him of his special status among the group of writers in exile—he might have lost his marriage, his house and his homeland, but his income was secure and the success of his forthcoming books virtually guaranteed. But he felt powerless to help with many of the requests that people put to him, and acutely aware that his importance as an intermediary was wildly overestimated—he was, after all, still awaiting the outcome of his own application for citizenship. And he had very close friends who were in serious danger—how could he be
expected to respond to requests for help from complete strangers, even though their need was just as great? When Zweig was back in London he learnt that Ernst Toller had committed suicide in New York on 22nd May. Five days later Joseph Roth died in Paris. Zweig could not bring himself to travel to his funeral, but attended a memorial event in London’s Conway Hall, where he and English colleagues recalled their memories of the two writers before an audience of hundreds of expatriates.

Ungeduld des Herzens
was published in November 1938, the first work by Zweig to appear under the imprint of his new publishers, Bermann-Fischer in Stockholm and Allert de Lange in Amsterdam. As planned, it was a novel set in Austria. Zweig’s colleague Siegfried Trebitsch, himself a refugee from Austria, had noted a few curious words and phrases when reading the text, which he thought might puzzle readers. “Many thanks, my dear friend!”, Zweig wrote back by return, “but you’ll find such ‘Austriacisms’ scattered quite deliberately throughout the book. I wanted readers to get a subtle sense that the first-person narrator is an Austrian. [ … ] For example, the colonel always says ‘die
unsrigen
’ instead of ‘den
unsrigen
’, and we get words like ‘
der
dasige
Freund
’.”
²⁸

In June 1939 Zweig heard from another Austrian living in exile in Lugano, a certain Colonel B von Szilly, a “former Hussars officer in the Imperial Army and a Knight of the Order of Maria Theresa”, who, having read Zweig’s book with the greatest interest, now ventured to suggest a few minor amendments. He hoped that his corrections could perhaps be incorporated into future editions. He then appended a page and a half of notes on points of detail, mostly relating to the military, where Zweig had made errors:

Page 54, line 13: “Gallop”. Prior to exercise and the manège, horses should never be made to break a sweat by riding them at a gallop. [ … ]

Page 73, line 20: One cannot “bridle” a saddle. [ … ]

Page 288, line 13: The first toast was always “Three cheers for His Majesty!” Only later, and after a suitable pause, was the regiment toasted.
²⁹

Like all Zweig’s earlier books, the work attracted a new circle of attentive and enthusiastic readers, and the sales figures for the English translation astonished even the author himself: “This has come as a great surprise to me, but my novel
Beware of Pity
is currently a best-seller, four big new editions in two weeks, my first success in England (and bigger than
in America this time). [ … ] So now I’ve finally become an author in England as well.”
³⁰