media. The Romans were different: they dealt in hard facts, allowing everyone to form his own opinion. For example, t made no difference to them whether the Jews believed in the Twelve Gods; the Romans nailed no theses on the portals of the Temple of Zion; they merely erected a statue of Caesar in front of it. In our culture, opinions precede facts — that is why media, coupled with statistics, is such an important subject.
Needs are both real and metaphysical; they are geared to life in this world and in another world. The two cannot be sharply separated: they overlap in dreams, in intoxication, in ecstasy, in the great promises.
The art of arousing new needs covers a wide range from the apostle Paul to Edison's inventions. A need can be recognized suddenly or it can spread gradually. Take tobacco: it has come a long way from the first cigar of the Conquistadors to the international power of the cigarette industries.
Why was it that within a few years, Uncle Fridolin's modest firm enjoyed that incredible, virtually uncontrollable boom?
55
It began, as so often, with car trouble. Together with Kornfeld, the sculptor, and Edwin, the chauffeur, I was driving to Verdun, the Capitale de la Paix, where we had some business. Edwin was a good driver, but unreliable — an "airhead." I am quoting my uncle who had threatened him several times, saying that "the fifteenth is going to be the first." He also said: "Edwin is the sort who calls in sick on a Monday." That was true, but Edwin made up for it during the week.
And today was Monday; we had spent the night at Kleber's in Saulgau and tasted the wines that thrive along the Neckar. Edwin had neglected to fill the tank; we ran out of gas on one of the hills outside the Black Forest. It was a lonesome place; no car passed, so Edwin had to take two canisters and go on the road. Actually, we did not mind our sojourn; it was a beautiful morning—we were in the mood for a stroll, a pipe, and a good conversation. A chapel stood on the hill; it reminded me of the chapel on Mount Wurmling near Tubingen — Uhland wrote a beautiful poem about it. A gray wall enclosed the chapel grounds; we entered through the gate and found ourselves in a deserted cemetery. Kornfeld said: "Lo and behold — the lure of the relevant."
Kornfeld was a renowned sculptor, but he no longer practiced. He said: "We sculptors are like the butterfly collectors who hang up their nets because the butterflies are dying out. For us, it is heads that are growing rare. We would have to go to the Africans, and even they..."
He added: "For me, a tyranny would be advantageous, though naturally, I can't say that out loud."
"But Herr Kornfeld — our experiences would tend to confirm the opposite."
"My dear Baroh, you are confusing tyrants and demagogues — that is a common error in our time. The demagogue stirs one and the same dough; he is a pastry chef, at best a plasterer and painter. The tyrant supplies individual shapes. Down to his bodyguards. Think of the Renaissance tyrants ruled everywhere, from every small town up to the Vatican. That was the great era for sculptors, for art in general."
That gave me food for thought. In any case, Old Gunpowder-Head would agree. "Caesar Borgia as pope."
Kornfeld had worked chiefly in marble; he had also studied the ancient kinds, touring the Greek islands in quest of forgotten quarries. One ofhis favorite books was President de Brosses's Confidential Letters, which so often talks about marble. Critics and academics are reluctant to mention Kornfeld's name; nevertheless, it pops up precisely when it is ignored. The museums contain some good heads ofhis. But ever since he put down his chisel, he had been doing architectural consultation and designing parks, gardens, and cemeteries. Our trip was linked to such a commission.
No one had been buried on this hill for a long time, and, as Kornfeld said, the place was about to be plowed under. Soon the countryside would consist
Needs are both real and metaphysical; they are geared to life in this world and in another world. The two cannot be sharply separated: they overlap in dreams, in intoxication, in ecstasy, in the great promises.
The art of arousing new needs covers a wide range from the apostle Paul to Edison's inventions. A need can be recognized suddenly or it can spread gradually. Take tobacco: it has come a long way from the first cigar of the Conquistadors to the international power of the cigarette industries.
Why was it that within a few years, Uncle Fridolin's modest firm enjoyed that incredible, virtually uncontrollable boom?
55
It began, as so often, with car trouble. Together with Kornfeld, the sculptor, and Edwin, the chauffeur, I was driving to Verdun, the Capitale de la Paix, where we had some business. Edwin was a good driver, but unreliable — an "airhead." I am quoting my uncle who had threatened him several times, saying that "the fifteenth is going to be the first." He also said: "Edwin is the sort who calls in sick on a Monday." That was true, but Edwin made up for it during the week.
And today was Monday; we had spent the night at Kleber's in Saulgau and tasted the wines that thrive along the Neckar. Edwin had neglected to fill the tank; we ran out of gas on one of the hills outside the Black Forest. It was a lonesome place; no car passed, so Edwin had to take two canisters and go on the road. Actually, we did not mind our sojourn; it was a beautiful morning—we were in the mood for a stroll, a pipe, and a good conversation. A chapel stood on the hill; it reminded me of the chapel on Mount Wurmling near Tubingen — Uhland wrote a beautiful poem about it. A gray wall enclosed the chapel grounds; we entered through the gate and found ourselves in a deserted cemetery. Kornfeld said: "Lo and behold — the lure of the relevant."
Kornfeld was a renowned sculptor, but he no longer practiced. He said: "We sculptors are like the butterfly collectors who hang up their nets because the butterflies are dying out. For us, it is heads that are growing rare. We would have to go to the Africans, and even they..."
He added: "For me, a tyranny would be advantageous, though naturally, I can't say that out loud."
"But Herr Kornfeld — our experiences would tend to confirm the opposite."
"My dear Baroh, you are confusing tyrants and demagogues — that is a common error in our time. The demagogue stirs one and the same dough; he is a pastry chef, at best a plasterer and painter. The tyrant supplies individual shapes. Down to his bodyguards. Think of the Renaissance tyrants ruled everywhere, from every small town up to the Vatican. That was the great era for sculptors, for art in general."
That gave me food for thought. In any case, Old Gunpowder-Head would agree. "Caesar Borgia as pope."
Kornfeld had worked chiefly in marble; he had also studied the ancient kinds, touring the Greek islands in quest of forgotten quarries. One ofhis favorite books was President de Brosses's Confidential Letters, which so often talks about marble. Critics and academics are reluctant to mention Kornfeld's name; nevertheless, it pops up precisely when it is ignored. The museums contain some good heads ofhis. But ever since he put down his chisel, he had been doing architectural consultation and designing parks, gardens, and cemeteries. Our trip was linked to such a commission.
No one had been buried on this hill for a long time, and, as Kornfeld said, the place was about to be plowed under. Soon the countryside would consist
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