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The Jew is the universal scapegoat. This does not happen without reason, and it is not the old superstition about “Christ-killers” that makes them distrusted. But this Jew trouble is only an incident. Something bigger is happening.
If I could show you, if I could make you see – the rebirth of this new Germany under our Gentle Leader! Not for always can the world grind a great people down in subjugation. In defeat for fourteen years we bowed our heads. We ate the bitter bread of shame and drank the thin gruel of poverty. But now we are free men. We rise in our might and hold our heads up before the nations. We purge our bloodstream of its baser elements. We go singing through our valleys with strong muscles tingling for a new work – and from the mountains ring the voices of Wodan and Thor, the old, strong gods of the German race.
But no. I am sure as I write, as with the new vision my own enthusiasm burns, that you will not see how necessary is all this for Germany. You will see only that your own people are troubled. You will not see that a few must suffer for the millions to be saved. You will be a Jew first and wail for your people. This I understand. It is the Semitic character. You lament but you are never brave enough to fight back. That is why there are pogroms.
Alas, Max, this will pain you, I know, but you must realize the truth. There are movements far bigger than the men who make them up. As for me, I am a part of the movement. Heinrich is an officer in the boys’ corps which is headed by Baron Von Freische whose rank is now shedding a luster upon our house, for he comes often to visit with Heinrich and Elsa, whom he much admires. Myself, I am up to the ears in work. Elsa concerns herself little with politics except to adore our Gentle Leader. She gets tired too easily this last month. Perhaps the babies come too fast. It will be better for her when this one is born.
I regret our correspondence must close this way, Max. Perhaps we can someday meet again on a field of better understanding.
As ever your, Martin Schulse
SCHULSE-EISENSTEIN GALLERIES
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.
August 1, 1933
Herrn Martin Schulse
(kindness of J. Lederer)
Schloss Rantzenburg
Munich, Germany
Martin, My Old Friend:
I am sending this by the hand of Jimmy Lederer, who will shortly pass through Munich on a European vacation. I cannot rest after the letter you last sent me. It is so unlike you I can only attribute its contents to your fear of the censorship. The man I have loved as a brother, whose heart has ever been brimming with sympathy and friendship, cannot possibly partake of even a passive partnership in the butchery of innocent people. I trust and pray that it may be so, that you will write me no exposition, which might be dangerous for you, – only a simple “yes.” That will tell me that you play the part of expediency but that your heart has not changed, and that I was not deluded in believing you to be always a man of fine and liberal spirit to whom wrongs are wrongs in whosoever’s name they may be committed.
This censorship, this persecution of all men of liberal thought, the burning of libraries and corruption of the universities would arouse your antagonism if there had been no finger laid on one of my race in Germany. You are a liberal, Martin. You have always taken the long view. I know that you cannot be swept away from sanity by a popular movement which has so much that is bad about it, no matter how strong it may be.
I can see why the Germans acclaim Hitler. They react against the very real wrongs which have been laid on them since the disaster of the war. But you, Martin, have been almost an American since the war. I know that it is not my friend who has written to me, that it will prove to have been only the voice of caution and expediency.
Eagerly I await the one word that will set my heart at peace. Write your “yes” quickly.
My love to you all, Max
Deutsch-Bölkische Bank und Danbelsgesellschaft, Rünchen
August 18, 1933
Mr. Max Eisenstein
Schulse-Eisenstein Galleries
San Francisco, California, U.S.A.
Dear Max:
I have your letter. The word is “no.” You are a sentimentalist. You do not know that all men are not cut to your pattern. You put nice little tags on them, like “liberal” and expect them to act so-and-so. But you are wrong. So, I am an American liberal? No! I am a German patriot.
A liberal is a man who does not believe in doing anything. He is a talker about the rights of man, but just a talker. He likes to make a big noise about freedom of speech, and what is freedom of speech? Just the chance to sit firmly on the backside and say that whatever is being done by the active men is wrong. What is so futile as the liberal? I know him well because I have been one. He condemns the passive government because it makes no change. But let a powerful man arise, let an active man start to make a change, then where is your liberal? He is against it. To the liberal any change is the wrong one.
He calls this the “long view,” but it is merely a bad scare that he will have to do something himself. He loves words and high-sounding precepts but he is useless to the men who make the world what it is. These are the only important men, the doers. And here in Germany a doer has risen. A vital man is changing things. The whole tide of a people’s life changes in a minute because the man of action has come. And I join him. I am not just swept along by a current. The useless life that was all talk and no accomplishment I drop. I put my back and shoulders behind the great new movement. I am a man because I act. Before that I am just a voice. I do not question the ends of our action. It is not necessary. I know it is good because it is so vital. Men are not drawn into bad things with so much joy and eagerness.
You say we persecute men of liberal thought, we destroy libraries. You should wake from your musty sentimentalizing. Does the surgeon spare the cancer because he must cut to remove it? We are cruel. Of course we are cruel. As all birth is brutal, so is this new birth of ours. But we rejoice. Germany lifts high her head among the nations of the world. She follows her Glorious Leader to triumph. What can you know of this, you who only sit and dream? You have never known a Hitler. He is a drawn sword. He is a white light, but hot as the sun of a new day.
I must insist that you write no further. We are no longer in sympathy, as now we must both realize.
Martin Schulse
EISENSTEIN GALLERIES
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.
September 5, 1933
Herrn Martin Schulse
%Deutsch-Voelkische Bank
und Handelsgeselschaft
Munich, Germany
Dear Martin:
Enclosed are your draft and the month’s accounts. It is of necessity that I send a brief message. Griselle has gone to Berlin. She is too daring. But she has waited so long for success she will not relinquish it, and laughs at my fears. She will be at the Koenig Theater. You are an official. For old friendship’s sake, I beg of you to watch over her. Go to Berlin if you can and see whether she is in danger.
It will distress you to observe that I have been obliged to remove your name from the firm’s name. You know who our principal clients are, and they will touch nothing now from a firm with a German name.
Your new attitude I cannot discuss. But you must understand me. I did not expect you would take up arms for my people because they are my people, but because you were a man who loved justice.
I commend my rash Griselle to you. The child does not realize what a risk she is taking. I shall not write again.
Goodbye, my friend,
Max
EISENSTEIN GALLERIES
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.
November 5, 1933
Herrn Martin Schulse
% Deutsch-Voelkische Bank
und Handelsgeselschaft
Munich, Germany
Martin:
I write again because I must. A black foreboding has taken possession of me. I wrote Griselle as soon as I knew she was in Berlin and she answered briefly. Rehearsals were
going brilliantly; the play would open shortly. My second letter was more encouragement than warning, and it has been returned to me, the envelope unopened, marked only addressee unknown, (Adressant Unbekannt). What a darkness those words carry! How can she be unknown? It is surely a message that she has come to harm. They know what has happened to her, those stamped letters say, but I am not to know. She has gone into some sort of void and it will be useless to seek her. All this they tell me in two words, Adressant Unbekannt.
Martin, need I ask you to find her, to succor her? You have known her graciousness, her beauty and sweetness. You have had her love, which she has given to no other man. Do not attempt to write to me. I know I need not even ask you to aid. It is enough to tell you that something has gone wrong, that she must be in danger.
I leave her in your hands, for I am helpless.
Max
EISENSTEIN GALLERIES
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.
November 23, 1933
Herrn Martin Schulse
% Deutsch-Voelkische Bank
und Handelsgeselschaft
Munich, Germany
Martin:
I turn to you in despair. I could not wait for another month to pass so I am sending some information as to your investments. You may wish to make some changes and I can thus enclose my appeal with a bank letter.
It is Griselle. For two months there has been only silence from her, and now the rumors begin to come in to me. From Jewish mouth to Jewish mouth the tales slowly come back from Germany, tales so full of dread I would close my ears if I dared, but I cannot. I must know what has happened to her. I must be sure.
She appeared in the Berlin play for a week. Then she was jeered from the audience as a Jewess. She is so headstrong, so foolhardy, the splendid child! She threw the word back in their teeth. She told them proudly that she was a Jewess.
Some of the audience started after her. She ran backstage. Someone must have helped her for she got away with the whole pack at her heels and took refuge with a Jewish family in a cellar for several days. After that she changed her appearance as much as she could and started south, hoping to walk back to Vienna. She did not dare try the railroads. She told those she left that she would be safe if she could reach friends in Munich. That is my hope, that she has gone to you, for she has never reached Vienna. Send me word, Martin, and if she has not come there make a quiet investigation if you can. My mind cannot rest. I torture myself by day and by night, seeing the brave little thing trudging all those long miles through hostile country, with winter coming on. God grant you can send me a word of relief.
Max
Deutsch-Bölkische Bank und Dandelsgesellschaft, München
December 8, 1933
Heil Hitler! I much regret that I have bad news for you. Your sister is dead. Unfortunately she was, as you have said, very much a fool. Not quite a week ago she came here, with a bunch of storm troopers right behind her. The house was very active – Elsa has not been well since little Adolf was born last month – the doctor was here, and two nurses, with all the servants and children scurrying around.
By luck I answer the door. At first I think it is an old woman and then I see the face, and then I see the storm troopers have turned in the park gates. Can I hide her? It is one chance in thousands. A servant will be on us at any minute. Can I endure to have my house ransacked with Elsa ill in bed and to risk being arrested for harboring a Jew and to lose all I have built up here? Of course as a German I have one plain duty. She has displayed her Jewish body on the stage before pure young German men. I should hold her and turn her over to the storm troopers. But this I cannot do.
“You will destroy us all, Griselle,” I tell her. “You must run back further in the park.” She looks at me and smiles (she was always a brave girl) and makes her own choice.
“I would not bring you harm, Martin,” she says, and she runs down the steps and out toward the trees. But she must be tired. She does not run very fast and the storm troopers have caught sight of her. I am helpless. I go in the house and in a few minutes she stops screaming, and in the morning I have the body sent down to the village for burial. She was a fool to come to Germany. Poor little Griselle. I grieve with you, but as you see, I was helpless to aid her.
I must now demand you do not write again. Every word that comes to the house is now censored, and I cannot tell how soon they may start to open the mail to the bank. And I will no longer have any dealings with Jews, except for the receipt of money. It is not so good for me that a Jewess came here for refuge, and no further association can be tolerated.
A new Germany is being shaped here. We will soon show the world great things under our Glorious Leader.
Martin
MUNICH JANUARY 2 1934
MARTIN SCHULSE
YOUR TERMS ACCEPTED NOVEMBER TWELVE AUDIT SHOWS THIRTEEN PERCENT INCREASE FEBRUARY SECOND FOUR-FOLD ASSURED PAN EXHIBITION MAY FIRST PREPARE LEAVE FOR MOSCOW IF MARKET OPENS UNEXPECTEDLY FINANCIAL INSTRUCTIONS MAILED NEW ADDRESS
EISENSTEIN
EISENSTEIN GALLERIES
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.
January 3, 1934
Herrn Martin Schulse
Schloss Rantzenburg
Munich, Germany
Our Dear Martin:
Don’t forget grandma’s birthday. She will be 64 on the 8th. American contributors will furnish 1,000 brushes for your German Young Painters’ League. Mandelberg has joined in supporting the league. You must send 11 Picasso reproductions, 20 by 90 to branch galleries on the 25th, no sooner. Reds and blues must predominate. We can allow you $8,000 on this transaction at present. Start new accounts book 2.
Our prayers follow you daily, dear brother,
Eisenstein
EISENSTEIN GALLERIES
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.
January 17, 1934
Herrn Martin Schulse
Schloss Rantzenburg
Munich, Germany
Martin, Dear Brother:
Good news! Our stock reached 116 five days ago. The Fleishmans have advanced another $10,000. This will fill your Young Painters’ League quota for a month but let us know if opportunities increase. Swiss miniatures are having a vogue. You must watch the market and plan to be in Zurich after May first if any unexpected opportunities develop. Uncle Solomon will be glad to see you and I know you will rely heavily on his judgment.
The weather is clear and there is little danger of storms during the next two months. You will prepare for your students the following reproductions: Van Gogh 15 by 103, red; Poussin 20 by 90, blue and yellow; Vermeer 11 by 33, red and blue.
Our hopes will follow your new efforts.
Eisenstein
EISENSTEIN GALLERIES
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.
January 29, 1934
Dear Martin:
Your last letter was delivered by mistake at 457 Geary St., Room 4. Aunt Rheba says tell Martin he must write more briefly and clearly so his friends can understand all that he says. I am sure everyone will be in readiness for your family reunion on the 15th. You will be tired after these festivities and may want to take your family with you on your trip to Zurich.
Before leaving however, procure the following reproductions for branches of German Young Painters’ League, looking forward to the joint exhibit in May or earlier: Picasso 17 by 81, red; Van Gogh 5 by 42, white; Rubens 15 by 204, blue and yellow.
Our prayers are with you.
Eisenstein
S C H L O S S R A N T Z E N B U R G
M U N I C H , G E R M A N Y
February 12, 1934
Mr. Max Eisenstein
Eisenstein Galleries
San Francisco, California, U.S.A.
Max, My Old Friend:
My God, Max, do you know what you do? I shall have to try to smuggle this letter out with an American I have met here. I write an appeal from a despair you cannot imagine. This crazy cable! These letters you have sent. I a
m called in to account for them. The letters are not delivered, but they bring me in and show me letters from you and demand I give them the code. A code? And how can you, a friend of long years, do this to me?
Do you realize, have you any idea that you destroy me? Already the results of your madness are terrible. I am bluntly told I must resign my office. Heinrich is no longer in the boys’ corps. They tell him it will not be good for his health. God in heaven, Max, do you see what that means? And Elsa, to whom I dare not tell anything, comes in bewildered that the officials refuse her invitations and Baron Von Freische does not speak to her upon the street.
Yes, yes, I know why you do it – but do you not understand I could do nothing? What could I have done? I did not dare to try. I beg of you, not for myself, but for Elsa and the boys – think what it means to them if I am taken away and they do not know if I live or die. Do you know what it is to be taken to a concentration camp? Would you stand me against a wall and level the gun? I beg of you, stop. Stop now, while everything is not yet destroyed. I am in fear for my life, for my life, Max.
Is it you who does this? It cannot be you. I have loved you like a brother, my old Maxel. My God, have you no mercy? I beg you, Max, no more, no more! Stop while I can be saved. From a heart filled with old affection I ask it.
Martin