Chapter 3 invisible collection
The train left Dresden two stops, an elderly gentleman got on our carriage, greeted everyone politely, then raised his eyes, and nodded to me again as if to an old friend .At the first moment, I couldn't remember who he was, but when he smiled slightly and was about to say his name, I immediately remembered: He is one of the most famous art and antique dealers in Berlin. I often go to his store to view and buy old books and celebrity handwriting.We chatted casually about insignificant things at first, and then he said out of the blue:
"I have to tell you where I just came from. Because this story is arguably the most bizarre thing that has ever happened to me in my thirty-seven years of career as an old antique dealer. As you probably know yourself, since the value of money What has been like in the art market since fugitive gas has disappeared: the upstarts are suddenly interested in Gothic Madonnas and ancient plates and ancient etchings and portraits from the early days of printing in the fifteenth century. In order to favor you, these people are so ambitious that you can't convert them, so you have to prevent them from sweeping away the things in the house, and they even want to buy the buttons on your cuffs and the lamp on the table So it's getting harder and harder to get new merchandise—forgive me for suddenly calling these objects we've always been in awe of—but this batch of The old soil beetle has even made people accustomed to regard a beautiful ancient edition of Venice as just a dollar bill, and regard a sketch as the equivalent of several 100 franc notes. No matter how you refuse to stop it, it will not help. So I was smashed to the bone and sucked out the marrow overnight, making me impoverished. Our old shop name was taken over by my father from my grandfather, and now it is in the shop I was so ashamed to see that I had to sell the shabby scraps of junk that the street junkmen in the North used to disdain to put in their carts, that I wished I could pull the roller shutters down and close the doors.
"In this embarrassing situation, it occurred to me that I might as well go through our old business books and find some old customers and maybe get a few copies back from them. Directories are always like a graveyard, especially at this time, and don't really give me much guidance. Because most of our previous patrons had to auction off their collections long ago, or died long ago, and for the few remaining I can't hope for anything, when suddenly I came across a bundle of letters from what seemed to be one of our earliest customers, a man I'd long since forgotten, since the outbreak of the World War in 1914, he never Never ordered or consulted anything from us. Our correspondence goes back almost sixty years, which is not an exaggeration! He bought from my father and my grandfather, but in my own thirty I can't recall him ever being in our shop in seven years. Every indication is that he must be some queer old-fashioned buffoon, Menzel or one of those long-gone Germans who have survived to our time. In the era, you can sometimes see them in small towns in other provinces, and they have become rare and weird. The texts written by him can be said to be calligraphy treasures. Numbers were written twice to avoid mistakes. Besides, he also used blank pages cut from letterheads and old envelopes turned over. All this shows that this hopeless provincial is very petty and has Fanatical frugality. In addition to his signature, these peculiar documents are often signed with his various cumbersome titles: retired forest officer and economic adviser, retired second lieutenant, first-class Iron Cross winner. The 1870 The elder of the year, if he were alive, would be at least eighty years old. Yet this comical, frugal and obsessive character displayed extraordinary intelligence, profound knowledge, and refined taste as a collector of ancient engravings. So I Slowly sorting out his nearly sixty years of orders, the first order was still settled with silver coins. I found that in the era when one could buy a large number of the most exquisite German woodcuts, this unobtrusive provincial Man must have quietly collected a collection of copper engravings, which are all the more impressive compared with the collections of upstarts who have achieved fame for a while. For half a century, he alone has been in our shop every The few Marks he used for the first time and the things he bought are probably worth a fortune today. In addition, it is also conceivable that he must have caught a lot of bargains at the auction house and other shops. Of course, I have not received any orders from him since 1914. I am very familiar with the market conditions of the art market, and it is impossible to hide such a collection from me whether it is publicly auctioned or sold privately. In this way, this strange man He must be still alive now, or the collection is now in the hands of his heirs.
"This matter aroused my interest, and the next day, last night, I took the train straight to a small, decaying provincial town in Saxon. When I left the small station, I walked to the main As I walked along the Avenue, I felt that in one of these mediocre, vulgar, bourgeois houses lived a man who had a wonderfully preserved Rembrandt and Dürer and Mantel. It's unbelievable. I went to the post office and asked if there was a forest officer or economic adviser by that name. When I found out that the old gentleman was indeed alive, I couldn't believe it. Surprised, I set out for his house before lunch, and to be honest, I was a little uneasy.
"I had no trouble finding his lodgings, which were on the third floor of one of those humble provincial buildings built hastily, probably in the 1960s, to the design of some speculative mason. An honest tailor lived on the second floor, and on the left side of the third floor was a shining doorplate of the postmaster. timidly. I rang the doorbell and immediately there was a white-haired old woman in a clean little black hat. I handed her my card and asked if I could speak to Mr. Forester. She First looked at me in surprise, some suspicion, then at my business card. It was a big deal to have someone visiting from out of town in such an old house in this forgotten town She kindly asked me to wait a moment, and went into the room with her card. I heard her whispering in the room, and then suddenly a loud man's voice said loudly: 'Ah, Mr. R. . . from Berlin Yes, it's from that big antique shop... come in, come in... I'm very happy!' At this time, the old lady hurried to the door again and invited me in.
"I took off my overcoat and went into the house. In the middle of this simply furnished room stood an octogenarian, still in good shape, with a bushy mustache and a half-military uniform. fringe casual clothes, warmly extended his hands to me. This gesture clearly expressed his joyful, spontaneous welcome, but it was in stark contrast to the strange expression on which he stood there. He did not take a step towards I greeted me, so I had no choice but to go up to him and shake his hand with a little surprise in my heart. But when I was about to shake his hand, I noticed from the horizontal posture that the hands remained motionless that his hand Not looking for my hand, but waiting. I knew it all at once: this was a blind man.
"I have always felt very uncomfortable when I saw a blind man head-on since I was a child. Whenever I think of a person who is alive and know that he does not have the same feelings for me as I do for him, I can't get rid of the feeling of shame and shame. Even now, when I see those blind eyes staring blankly into space beneath his upturned bushy white brows, I must overcome my first fear. But the blind man did not let me long to be dazed, for as soon as my hand touched his, he took mine hard and greeted me again with a warm and cheerful loud voice, 'What a rarity!' He smiled at me Said, "It is indeed a miracle that the big boss in Berlin will come to the humble house... However, as the saying goes, when businessmen come to your door, you should pay more attention!... There is a saying in our hometown: When the gypsy comes, quickly close the door and tie it tight." Pockets!... Yes, I can imagine why you came to me. In our poor and decaying Germany, business is very bad now, there are no buyers, and the big bosses think of their regular customers and look for them again Here comes the lamb. But I'm afraid you won't have good luck with me, we poor old pensioners who are content with food. You're driving prices up like crazy, and we don't Can't keep up... People like us are forever outcasts.'
"I immediately corrected him and said he misunderstood my purpose. I didn't come here to sell him anything, I just happened to be close by and didn't want to miss this opportunity to visit him. Our shop has been in business for many years. The old man's regular customer and one of the largest collectors in Germany. As soon as I said the words 'one of the largest collectors in Germany', a strange change appeared on the old man's face. He still stood there blankly In the middle of the room, but now his face suddenly brightened, and there was a look of pride in his heart. He turned to where he estimated the lady was, as if to say: 'Did you hear that!' Then he turned Said to me, in a voice full of joy, leaving no trace of the military brusqueness that had been evident in his speech just now, but in a gentle, even gentle tone: 'It is indeed very kind of you. Yes, it's really nice...but it won't make your visit for nothing. I'm going to show you something that you don't get to see every day, even in your proud city of Berlin... ...I'll show you a few paintings, I can't find any better ones in Paris... No, after 60 years, I have collected all kinds of things. These treasures are not usually available on the street. Whatever you see. Louise, give me the key to the locker!'
"At this time, something unexpected happened. The old lady who was standing next to him, smiling politely and listening to our conversation kindly, suddenly raised her hands and begged me, shaking her head violently at the same time. At first I didn't understand what her signal meant. Then she walked up to her husband and put her hands lightly on his shoulders: "But, Hermann, don't you ask this question?" Sir, do you have time to look at your collection now? It’s noon now. You have to rest for an hour after lunch, which is specially requested by the doctor. After you have finished eating, you can show your collection to this gentleman, and then Wouldn't it be better if we had coffee together? Annemarie was at home then, and she knew more about these things than I did, and she could help you!'
"She had just said these words, and seemed to repeat the imploring gesture to me again, over her husband, who knew nothing. Now I understand what she means. I know, she is telling me not to agree to watch it right away. His collection of paintings, so I immediately excused that I was invited to dinner. I expressed my great pleasure and honor to be allowed to view his collection, but it was almost impossible before three o'clock, after three o'clock I would be happy come again.
"He was angry, like a child whose favorite toy has been taken from him. He turned around and muttered: 'Of course, these big bosses in Berlin are always busy. But this time you can You have to take some time, because these collections are not three or five paintings, but twenty-seven collections, one for each master, and none of the collections is not full. Then, it is agreed that it will be three o'clock in the afternoon. Be on time, or we won't see it all."
"He held out his hand to me in the air again, 'Look, you'll be happy—or angry. The angrier you get, the happier I am. That's what we collectors are: all for ourselves and nobody else! ' He shook my hand firmly again.
"The old lady walked me all the way to the door. During this time, I noticed that she had been worried, showing a look of embarrassment and fear. But now that she was almost at the door, she lowered her voice and stammered: 'Before you come to our house... can my daughter Annemarie... pick you up?...For various reasons...it would be more appropriate...You probably have dinner in the hotel?'
"'Yes. I'm glad, I'm going to be very happy,' I said.
"Sure enough, an hour later, I had just finished lunch in the little restaurant of the hotel near the market when a plainly dressed, not very young girl came in, looking around wide-eyed. I went up to her and did I introduced myself, and told her that I was ready to go to see the Tibetan paintings with her immediately. But her face suddenly flushed red, showing panic and embarrassment, just like her mother before. She Please, would you speak to me before I go. I could see at once that she was in trouble. Whenever she mustered up the courage to speak, a flush of uneasiness and trembling rose to the her forehead, with one hand curling her skirt. Finally, she finally stammered, sinking into the fluster of her heart again and again, 'My mother asked me to come to you...she told me everything Having said that... we have a great request to you... Before you go to my father, we want to tell you... Of course my father wants you to see his collection, but these collections... these collections ...It's not quite complete anymore...A lot of it is missing...Unfortunately, it's even missing a lot...'
"At this moment, she had to take another breath, then stared at me suddenly, and said hurriedly: 'I must tell you frankly...you know this era, you will understand everything...after the war broke out, my father's eyes Totally blind, before that he had had frequent troubles with his eyesight, and then lost it altogether through agitation—at first, though he was then seventy-six years old, he resolved to go to France After the war, when the German army did not advance as it did in 1870, he was so angry that his eyesight declined sharply. However, despite his poor eyesight, his body was still very strong, and until recently he could Walking for hours at a time, and even hunting, which he loved. But now he can't go out for a walk, and the only pleasure he has left is his collection, which he admires every day...that is to say, he looks at it It's gone, he can't see anything, but every afternoon he takes out all his collections, at least he can touch the paintings, always in the same order one by one, for decades, he I have already learned this order by heart... Now he is not interested in other things, I have to read to him the news of various auctions in the newspaper, the more the price rises, the happier he is... because... the price and the times Father Didn't understand at all, that's the scariest thing...he doesn't know, we've lost everything, and his monthly pension doesn't last two days... plus my brother-in-law died again, leaving her and four children... But my father was completely oblivious to our material difficulties. At first we frugal, even more than before, but it didn't help. Then we started selling things-of course we didn't touch his beloved collection . . . We sold what little jewelry we had, but, God, how much did it cost! For sixty years my father spent every penny he could save on paintings. One day, the family There's nothing left to sell... We really don't know how we're going to live. At this time... At this time, my mother and I sold a painting. If my father knew, he would never allow it. He didn't know , how difficult life is, he never imagined how difficult it is to get some food on the black market. All this news was read to him, so that he would not be excited.
"'We sold a very precious painting, an etching of Rembrandt. The merchant offered us several thousand marks, and we expected to live on it for a few years, but you know, the money melted. How fast... We put all the rest of the money in the bank, but after two months it was gone. So, we had to sell another one, and another one, the merchant was always late After sending the money, the currency has already depreciated. Later, we took it to the auction house, but even though the price was several million, we were still deceived... By the time the millions were in our hands, it had become a A pile of worthless waste paper. In this way, just to maintain our poorest life, the treasures collected by my father, together with a few famous paintings, are gradually lost, and my father does not know about it.'
"'So when you came in today, my mother was terrified... because if my father opened up those favorites for you, then things would be revealed...Every old picture frame, my father knows it by touching it. We put the reproduction or Similar pages were framed in place of those sold, so that he would not notice them when he touched them. As long as he could touch and count the pages (the order of which he had memorized exactly Yu Xin), then he will feel the same joy as when he used to appreciate these works with his eyes open. Usually in this small town, my father thinks that no one is worthy of looking at his treasure... Every painting he I can't put it down, and I'm sure he would be heartbroken if he knew that these paintings of his have long been lost under his hands. You are the first in these years since the former curator of the Dresden Copper Print Museum passed away. Someone he would like to show his favourites. So I beg you...'
"The girl, who was no longer young, suddenly raised her hands, with tears shining in her eyes, '...we beg you...don't make him sad...don't make us sad...please don't let this last fantasy of his Destroy, please help us to convince him that all the paintings he will describe to you still exist... If he guesses the truth, he will not live. Maybe we did this to him, but we didn't Another way: One has to live... Human life, my sister's four orphans, are more important than pictures printed on paper... To this day, we have never taken away his pleasure, and every afternoon he can He felt very happy to go through his favorites for three hours and talk to each painting as if he was human. Today... today may be the happiest day for him. He has been looking forward to it for many years, Looking forward to showing a connoisseur some day his beloved treasure, I beseech you...I implore you with both hands, don't spoil his happiness.'
"Her words were so touching that I can't express her feelings in what I'm repeating now. My God, as a businessman, I've seen many a man who has been meanly robbed and ruined by inflation, who for hundreds of years An ancestral treasure was cheated of with a loaf of butter—but here Fate created an exception that struck me deeply, and I promised her, without saying anything, that I would not tell the truth, and that I would help as best I could.
"So we went to her house together--I was very angry when I heard that these two poor ignorant women were being cheated out of a penny, and it made me angry, but it made me help them to the end. We walked up the stairs and just rang the doorbell when we heard the cheerful and loud voice of the old man in the house: 'Come in! Come in!' With the keen hearing of the blind man, he must have heard our steps going upstairs.
"'Herman didn't sleep at noon today because he was in a hurry to show you his baby.' said the old lady with a smile. A look from her daughter let her know that I agreed to their request, and the old lady said yes I put my mind down. There was a pile of favorites spread out on the table, waiting. As soon as the blind man touched my hand, he grabbed my arm and pressed me on the sofa without even saying a word of greeting.
"'Okay, now we'll start right away! - much to see, and the big boss from Berlin has no time! Here's a first collection full of works by the master Dürer, you'll be sure yourself, The collection is quite complete—and each one is more beautiful than the other. Here, take a look, and judge for yourself!'—speaking he opened the first picture in the portfolio, "This is "Malaysia".'
"So he carefully and meticulously, as if someone usually touches a fragile object, carefully took out a picture frame with a piece of yellowed blank paper from the collection with his fingertips. He passionately He held up the worthless piece of paper in front of his eyes full of enthusiasm, and stared at it for several minutes, but he didn't really see it. He opened his hands and raised the white paper to his eyes in ecstasy, his whole face It presents the charming and concentrated expression of a viewer. But his two blind and frozen eyes suddenly sparkle, and a ray of wisdom appears-is it the reflection of the paper, or is it caused by the joy of the heart?
"'Well,' he said proudly, 'have you ever seen a better print than this one? How sharp is the line in every detail, how well defined--I compare this picture to that of Dresden. The one in Dresden is much stiffer and duller than the one in Dresden. Here's where it came from! Here—' He turned the picture over and pointed with his fingernails to the blank space. Some places on the paper, so that I looked there subconsciously to see if there was really a logo-'Look, here is the collection chapter of Nagler, and here is the collection chapter of Remy and Estelle. These famous collections The family probably never expected that their paintings would come to this hut.'
"I shudder to hear this unsuspecting old man so enthusiastically admiring a completely blank sheet of paper. See him pointing with his fingernails to millimeter precision at the invisible Collector's logo, it's really weird, and my hair is straight. The horror makes my throat feel choked, like being strangled by a rope, and I don't know how to answer. I look up in confusion. The two women saw the trembling and excited old lady raise her pleading hands again. So I calmed myself down and began to enter my role.
"'Excellent!' I stammered at last. 'The picture is beautifully printed!' The old man's whole face immediately brightened with pride.' But it was not so bad ’ he said triumphantly, ‘you must first look at The Sorrow, or this Passion of Christ, which is as beautifully colored and finely printed as anything else in the world. Look here,’ As he spoke, his fingers lightly stroked a painting he had imagined, "The colors are bright, the texture is strong, and the tone is warm. The big bosses in Berlin and the experts from the museum were dumbfounded and stunned when they saw it." strange.'
"The old man was elated, and talked, and talked, for two hours. I can't describe to you what it was to be with him looking at a hundred or two hundred sheets of blank paper or poor reproductions. How grotesque, how frightening! These imaginary paintings were genuine and real in the memory of the sad ignorant old man, who could praise and describe each painting in the exact order without error, pointing out exactly Every detail of the painting. These invisible collections have long been scattered and gone, but to this blind man, to this touching deceiver, they are still there, intact His hallucinatory passion was so moving that I almost began to believe it. Only once did he seem to be aware of it, and then his somnambulist composure and viewing enthusiasm were horribly broken : Picking up Rembrandt's Antiope (a trial print, presumably of inestimable value indeed), he again admired the clarity of the print, while his perceptive, nervous fingers affectionately When he repainted the picture again and again, and then redrawn it according to the lines in his impression, his antennae nerves that had been honed for a long time did not find those concave lines on this strange page. A shadow suddenly passed by, and his voice became flustered. "Is this really...is it really "Antiope"?" He muttered to himself, his expression a little embarrassed. He took the framed page in his hand, and enthusiastically described every detail of the etching, which I also recalled. The blind man's face, which had grown awkward, relaxed again. Come down. The more I praise, the more kind and easy-going, happy and sincere this eccentric old man in his dying years will appear. 'This is the expert!' He turned to his family, happily and triumphantly said. 'Finally, I finally found a bosom friend. You listen to what he said, how valuable my paintings are. You always have doubts about me and blame me for spending all my money on collections. This It’s true. For sixty years, I have never drank beer, smoked, traveled, watched theaters, or bought books. I have always saved money and bought these paintings. When I am no longer alive, you guys It will be seen—you will be the richest man in the city, as rich as the richest man in Dresden, then you will still be happy about my stupidity. But as long as I live , Not a single painting is allowed to be taken out of this room - you have to take me out first, and then you can move my collection.'
“As he spoke, he ran his fingers gently over the empty collections that were no longer held, as if they were living things.—It was a terrifying but touching sight for me, because in this Never in the war years have I seen such a perfect, so innocent expression of happiness on the face of a German. Beside him stand his wife and daughter, mysteriously following the image of a woman etched by the German master. Very similar. The woman in the painting came to visit the tomb of the Savior, standing in front of the dug empty tomb, the expression on her face was both horrified and pious, and she was ecstatic when she saw the miracle. It was like the female disciple in the painting was killed The foreshadowing of the Savior God is shining brightly, and the faces of these two ordinary women who are aging, going through hardships, and living in poverty are filled with the innocent and joyful joy of the old man. They laugh and cry at the same time. I have never seen it before. However, the old man never tires of hearing my compliments. He keeps piling up and turning over the pages of the picture, devouring every word I say eagerly. In the end, these lies It's a break for me when my favorites are pushed aside and the old man reluctantly clears the table for coffee. But how can my guilt-ridden relaxation be compared to this man who seems to be thirty years younger? The year-old old man is comparable to his agitated, ups and downs of joy, and his heroic spirit! He told thousands of anecdotes about buying paintings and Taobao, stood up again and again, and fumbled to draw out the painting without help from others. One painting after another, he was as excited and intoxicated as if he had been drunk. But when I finally said, I have to leave, he was frightened, with an angry face like a wayward child, and stamped stubbornly. Stumbled and said: This is impossible, I haven't finished halfway through it. It took a lot of trouble for the two women to let the stubborn old man understand that he can't keep me delayed, or he will miss the train.
"At last he complied, after fierce objections. When the hour of farewell came, his voice became very soft. He took both of my hands, and his fingers followed mine affectionately with all the expressiveness of a blind man. Hands all the way down to the wrist, as if wanting to know more about me, to show me more love than words can express. 'Your presence has given me great, great pleasure,' he began, in a tone There is a feeling that stirs from the heart, which I will never forget.' It is a real relief to me to finally be able to enjoy my beloved paintings with a connoisseur again. I will let You see, you did not come to me, a blind old man, for nothing. I have my wife as a witness, and I promise you here in her presence that I will add to my will: entrust your prestigious name Come auction my collection. You deserve the honor of stewarding this unknown treasure,'—here he puts his hand affectionately on the looted collection—'until it disperses To all parts of the world. But promise me a fine catalog: let it be my tombstone, and I don't need the best.'
"I looked at his wife and daughter, who were so close together that sometimes a shudder passed from one to the other, as if they had one body trembling with the same shock of the heart. My own heart is so solemn that this touching and uninformed old man has entrusted me with the custody of his invisible and long-lost collection as if it were a treasure. I am deeply moved to agree to this. Something I will never be able to accomplish. The old man's blind eyeballs light up again, and I feel that he longs to feel my real presence in his heart. I feel from his kindness, from his gratitude and promise, from his use I could feel his longing in the way his fingers clenched mine.
"Two women walked me to the door. They dared not speak because the old man's hearing was sharp and he could hear every word, but their eyes were filled with tears, and their eyes were fixed on me, full of gratitude. I was in a daze, feeling my way Descending the stairs. I was so ashamed that I stepped into a poor man's house like an angel in a fairy tale, and performed a pious deception, blatantly lied, and restored a blind man's sight for an hour, when in fact I did A vile peddler who came here to cunningly snatch a few precious things from others. But I took with me much: In these dull, joyless times, I feel vividly again The pure passion, the ecstasy of a soul full of light and devoted entirely to art—a state of mind which we people seem to have long forgotten. I am filled with awe,—I cannot have it in any other way. Express—although I'm still ashamed for reasons I don't know.
"I was already in the street when the upper window clicked and I heard my name being called: indeed, the old man insisted on seeing me off with his blind eyes in the direction he reckoned I was going. He Leaning his body far out of the window, his wife and daughter had to support him in case of accidents. He waved his handkerchief and cried in a boy's happy and hearty voice: "Best trip!" This is a scene that I will never forget. : In the upper window there is the happy smiling face of a white-haired old man, gently lifted by a white cloud of benevolent illusion from our abominable real world, above the unhappy, hurried, busy people in the street I am reminded of that old true saying—Goethe, I think—'The collector is a happy man!'”
Notes:
Notes: