Category Archives: Buchmendel (Zweig)

Postcards from North Wales

Madoc Books, Llandudno. The Welsh Buchmendel 'deals mainly in books of Welsh interest and in the Welsh language. Sometimes he has very rare books, of which only one or two other copies may exist in the world. He tries to interest Welsh universities and public libraries in them, but they always reply that the books are too obscure for anyone ever to want to look at them. The books, it turns out, end up on the shelves of American institutions'

Madoc Books, Llandudno. The Welsh Buchmendel ‘deals mainly in books of Welsh interest and in the Welsh language. Sometimes he has very rare books, of which only one or two other copies may exist in the world. He tries to interest Welsh universities and public libraries in them, but they always reply that the books are too obscure for anyone ever to want to look at them. The books, it turns out, end up on the shelves of American institutions’

'Elegant Victorian seaside resort'

‘Elegant Victorian seaside resort’

'Beautiful little town on the Menai Straits'

‘Beautiful little town on the Menai Straits’

'The chapels—Sinai, Bethel, Zion, and so on—are closing, converted into luxury homes or garden centers or even restaurants (I can recall when restaurants remained almost unknown in North Wales)'

‘The chapels—Sinai, Bethel, Zion, and so on—are closing, converted into luxury homes or garden centres or even restaurants (I can recall when restaurants remained almost unknown in North Wales)’

'It’s all too easy in the heartachingly beautiful landscapes of North Wales, and in the human warmth of its villages, to descend to dithy-rambs about the simple life. But the genuinely simple life here, before the advent of modernity and such amenities as hot water, was harsh and difficult. No doubt narrow-mindedness and bigotry abounded, too'

‘It’s all too easy in the heartachingly beautiful landscapes of North Wales, and in the human warmth of its villages, to descend to dithyrambs about the simple life. But the genuinely simple life here, before the advent of modernity and such amenities as hot water, was harsh and difficult. No doubt narrow-mindedness and bigotry abounded, too’

Conservator of civilisation

Zweig in 1900

Zweig in 1900

The secondhand book dealer’s vital contribution

Dalrymple writes that in Buchmendel (1929), Stefan Zweig

indicates symbolically, and with great force, the destruction of cosmopolitan tolerance by the nationalist madness of the First World War in the fate of a single person.

Buchmendel

is a Jewish peddler of antiquarian books in Vienna. For many years before the outbreak of the war, he carried out his business in a Viennese café. Buchmendel lives for books; he has no other life. He is astonishingly learned, in the offbeat way of secondhand book dealers; every scholar in Vienna (the Vienna, recall, of Brahms, Freud, and Breuer, of Mahler and Klimt, of Schnitzler, Rilke, and Hofmannsthal) consults him on bibliographical matters.

Screen Shot 2015-04-06 at 22.13.23Buchmendel is otherworldly.

His wants are few, his interest in money minimal. The café owner is happy to have as a customer a man consulted by so many eminent men, even though he consumes little and occupies a table all day. The café owner understands, as does everyone else, that Buchmendel is a contributor to, because he is a conservator of, civilisation, and being a civilised man himself, he is honored to welcome him.

But the war supervenes.

Buchmendel is arrested, because he has written to both London and Paris, asking why he has not received copies of bibliographical reviews. The military censors assume that this correspondence is a code for espionage: they can’t conceive that a man could concern himself with bibliography at such a time. The  authorities discover that Buchmendel, born in Russian Galicia, is not even an Austrian citizen. Interned in a camp for enemy aliens, he waits two years before the authorities realise that he is only what he seems, a book peddler.

Screen Shot 2015-04-06 at 22.13.04On his release, Vienna has changed.

No longer the centre of an empire, it has become the impoverished capital of a monoglot rump state. Buchmendel’s café has changed hands; the new owner does not understand or welcome Buchmendel and ejects him. Buchmendel’s life has fallen apart, as has the civilisation to which he was a valuable contributor; now homeless, he soon dies of pneumonia.

Zweig makes it clear

that though Buchmendel was eccentric and his life one-dimensional, even stunted, he could offer his unique contribution to Viennese civilisation because no one cared about his nationality. His work and knowledge were vastly more important to his cosmopolitan customers than his membership in a collectivity.

Screen Shot 2015-04-06 at 22.13.54No man was more sensitive than Zweig

to the destructive effects upon individual liberty of the demands of large or strident collectivities. He would have viewed with horror the cacophony of monomanias — sexual, racial, social, egalitarian — that marks the intellectual life of our societies, each monomaniac demanding legislative restriction on the freedom of others in the name of a supposed greater, collective good. His work was a prolonged (though muted and polite) protest at the balkanisation of our minds and sympathies.

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