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Madensky Square - pp 49
The Triumph lasted till I alighted at the Bristol, walked across the richly carpeted foyer, smelled the cigars from the Smoking Room - and then there was a moment of panic, for after all any kind of disaster could have overtaken the Feldherr von Lindenberg since the early hours of today.
But it was all right. I gave the name I always gave, the porter handed me a key. No smile of complicity, no recognition though I was here less than two months ago. The Bristol isn't intimate like Sachers; no naked archdukes come whooping out of the Salles Privees. Here is complete discretion, anonymity. No wonder the nice fat English King Edward liked it best of all the hotels in the city.
My room was perfect. I could see over the roofs to a garden with a swing and pond with pin-sized children who should have been in bed. I took off my hat and put it on the hatstand. I sat down on the bed.
But it was all right. I gave the name I always gave, the porter handed me a key. No smile of complicity, no recognition though I was here less than two months ago. The Bristol isn't intimate like Sachers; no naked archdukes come whooping out of the Salles Privees. Here is complete discretion, anonymity. No wonder the nice fat English King Edward liked it best of all the hotels in the city.
My room was perfect. I could see over the roofs to a garden with a swing and pond with pin-sized children who should have been in bed. I took off my hat and put it on the hatstand. I sat down on the bed.
Near fragment in time
At the beginning of this century, Vienna was home to a Jewish population of about 200,000 including unusually large concentrations of Turkish, Galician, Balkan, and Hungarian Jews. Synagogues proliferated to accommodate regional groups, graduation of orthodoxy, and craftsmen in special industries who formend their own congregations. The stylistic range in Viennese synagogues encompassed neoclassicsm (Seitenstettengasse), Moorish (Tempelgasse), a free mixture of massive art nouveau with Romanesque and Gothic detail (Pazmanitengasse), and timid modernistic (Hitzing-Eintelbergergasse). Of all these synagogues, numbering about sixty during the mid- 1930s, only one survived the second World War. That was the oldest, the „Tempel“in the Seitenstettengasse in central Vienna. It took a long time for the Jews to increase sufficiently in number and status to commission this building. There had been Jews in Vienna since the late twelfth century; the first synagogue, in St. Stephen´s parish, was mentioned in a document of 1204. Later thirteenth-century documents refer to this or other synagogues, and documents of 1406 and 14220 refer to the burning of synagogues. The document of 1420 describes the synagogue on the Judenplatz as having a men´s prayer hall, a women´s section linked to the men´s by a window, movable seats, and an area where oil was stored. In 1421 came the expulsion or burning of the few Jews who had not died during the program of the previous year.
pp 186 from Synagogues of Europe: Architecture, History, Meaning by
Near fragment in space
I have just made a complete fool of myself. I went to see Alice to tell her about Herr Huber's visit and on the way back I thought I saw across the width of the Kärntner Ring a figure that I recognized.
Yes, I was sure that I knew that soldier in the uniform of the Bohemian Dragoons with his slow gait and clumsy boots. I even thought I could smell across the heads of the fashionable crowd who promenaded there, the whiff of the raw onions that nothing can prevent Corporal Hatschek from chewing when he is off duty. And my heart raced, excitement coursed through me - and I lifted my skirts ready to hurry across the road.
But the Ringstrasse is wide, the hansom cabs are never in a hurry. By the time I'd reached the other side there was no sign of him.
I'd imagined him then. Conjured him up out of my deepest need. It's not the first time that I've run across the road like a homesick child towards this onion-chewing corporal and found he was a mirage. Well, so be it. There is only one cure for what ails me, and thank heaven I have it in abundance. Work.
pp 41 from Madensky Square by
Yes, I was sure that I knew that soldier in the uniform of the Bohemian Dragoons with his slow gait and clumsy boots. I even thought I could smell across the heads of the fashionable crowd who promenaded there, the whiff of the raw onions that nothing can prevent Corporal Hatschek from chewing when he is off duty. And my heart raced, excitement coursed through me - and I lifted my skirts ready to hurry across the road.
But the Ringstrasse is wide, the hansom cabs are never in a hurry. By the time I'd reached the other side there was no sign of him.
I'd imagined him then. Conjured him up out of my deepest need. It's not the first time that I've run across the road like a homesick child towards this onion-chewing corporal and found he was a mirage. Well, so be it. There is only one cure for what ails me, and thank heaven I have it in abundance. Work.