stood; if Unterholzer wished to smoulder, let him do so. He would only make himself look ridiculous in the eyes of a world which, if it were ever to discover the true background to the affair, would certainly side with von Igelfeld.
When Unterholzer eventually struck, it was with a suddenness that took von Igelfeld entirely by surprise. The
Zeitschrift
, which had previously been edited by von Igelfeld, but which was now edited from Frankfurt, arrived on the first day of every third month. Von Igelfeld had a personal subscription and enjoyed nothing more than taking his copy home on the day of its arrival and settling down to read it in his study over a glass of Madeira wine. It was, in many respects, the highlight of his existence: to savour the unadulterated pleasure of at least four articles on Romance philology, together with at least ten pages of book reviews, and several pages of
Notes
and Queries.
Usually he finished his first reading of the journal that evening, and would return to it over the following days, after he had mulled over the contents.
On this occasion, he sat down with the Madeira and the review, and fixed his eye upon the Contents page. There was an article by Professor Dr Dr Mannhein on particles. (
A treat!
thought von Igelfeld.) There was a review essay on an important new etymological dictionary of Spanish, and . . . He faltered, the glass of Madeira toppling dangerously to one side.
It was there in black and white, the letters imprinted on the page with all the awful finality of names inscribed on some enduring monument to an atrocity:
Irregular Verbs: Flaws in the von Igelfeld
Hypothesis
. Von Igelfeld gasped, and gasped again when he saw what followed: by Professor Dr Dr Detlev Amadeus Unterholzer (Regensburg).
With fumbling hands he turned to the first page of the article and began to read.
‘
Since the publication of the controversial
Portuguese Irregular Verbs
by Professor Dr Moritz-Maria von Igelfeld, scholars of Romance
philology have been questioning some of the basic assumptions as to the
behaviour of the indicative in its irregular manifestations. The growing
band of those who are unconvinced by the tentative hypothesis advanced by
von Igelfeld have begun to suggest that third-person mutations happened
later than von Igelfeld naïvely assumes . . . ’
It was almost too much for von Igelfeld to bear. With his heart hammering within him, he struggled to the end of the article, reeling at the subtle digs which virtually every sentence seemed to contain. Not only was he, according to Unterholzer, ‘naïve’ (page 34), but he was also ‘misguided’ (page 36), ‘misinformed’ (page 37) and ‘potentially meretricious’ (page 39).
He finished the article and laid the
Zeitschrift
down on the table beside his chair, next to the untouched glass of Madeira. He had never before – not once – been attacked in print. The reviews of
Portuguese Irregular Verbs
had been unanimously favourable; at conferences, colleagues had tripped over one another in the race to compliment him on his papers; and Zimmermann himself had never – not on one single occasion – uttered anything but praise of his work. And now here was Unterholzer – Unterholzer! – daring to question his theories, clothing himself, it would seem, in the support of a so-called ‘growing band’ of those unconvinced of his hypothesis. Who was in this ‘growing band’ on whose behalf Unterholzer purported to speak? Was Prinzel involved? Von Igelfeld had spoken to him only three weeks ago and there had been no indication of doubts as to the hypothesis. No, it was more likely that Unterholzer spoke for nobody but himself and had merely invented the support of others, in the same way as those who are unsure of themselves may use the first person plural when they express a view.
For the rest of the evening, von Igelfeld considered his response. One possibility was to confront Unterholzer and to ask him to explain himself.