by H. G. Adler
“You have to finally learn to keep what you think to yourself a bit more.”
“Things are different for you than for me. Do you know, Mother, it would be better if you stopped lecturing me. You’re not going to change me. Nothing will change me. You should have sent me away before the war even started.”
“You didn’t want to go away. I suggested it to you and Paul again and again.”
“You’re the one who said so …! Because you knew that I would never leave you both. I am what I am. I’ve come to accept that, and that’s why I’m asking you to let me be as I am.”
“You’re making yourself miserable, child! You’re not helping yourself at all. I don’t want to talk about me and the others.”
“You’re not talking about yourself, but you only think of yourself. What do others matter to you? Look, Mother, I know what you’re like, I know exactly what you’re like. And yet I’ve taken it upon myself to stick by you and the family.”
“Worry less about the family and more about yourself!”
“You say that, but as soon as I go my own way you turn to look at me accusingly and are cold to me. You make it seem like I’m being egotistical. But let’s not go into it!”
“You’ve got me wrong! It’s wonderful when people stick together, but one also has to think about oneself a little. You accomplish nothing with your self-sacrifice. You only put everyone on edge. For it’s something that is easier said than done. You keep accusing me, but you’re a lot like your father. One has to keep an eye on you, otherwise you’ll be in a mess before you know it.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve never demanded anything for myself. The old man … let’s not talk about him. You stayed with him, which is your own doing. You can let me go in peace. I can take care of myself.”
“You can take care of yourself all right! If I didn’t keep a watch over you, you’d be in fine shape now! There would no one to take care of your things, to warm up your food, to darn your stockings, and yet you have doubts whether anyone loves you, that nobody thinks about you, that nobody cares about you.”
“Please, don’t do anything for me! I’ve always gotten along just fine. But since we’re on the subject, is it really all that much, what you did for me? It was nothing at all, and you know that yourself. It’s miserable to even waste words on any of this!”
“Please, don’t get so upset! I’m only stating the truth, a part of the truth, which you love so much. Zerlina, you need to remember, no one accomplishes anything in this world if all you do is bang your head against a wall! You have to have reserves that you don’t tap until the very end, something hidden, secrets.…”
“I have no reserves. I don’t want to have any! Where has your constant carefulness and caution gotten you? Here we sit in Ruhenthal, Frau Lustig! What a beautiful destination, our dreamed-of fairy-tale castle, our gingerbread house! What else do you want to deny while someone has you by the collar? You can deny all you want, but no one will ever let you go free again.”
“Okay, we’re trapped, we’re trapped! But …”
“There is no ‘but’! Everything is finished! Caution and frugality and denial no longer have any point, so to hell with them! The song is over, Mother! Do you hear what I’m saying? Whoever doesn’t live life to the full now has never lived!”
“You always live life to the full, and yet it is no life that you live! Zerlina, you’ve exhausted life! And whoever isn’t careful now will be finished!”
“We’re all finished, dear Mother! It makes no sense to fight against it. We’ll get through as best we can, but each has to go her own way, you yourself and I myself.”
“And Paul?”
“And Paul has to go his own way.”
“Paul won’t make it. He relies too much on you and me because he is so weak.”
“I won’t talk about Paul with you.”
Caroline tries to come to terms with it all, but she sees that it is hopeless. Now that Leopold is gone, everything is falling apart. It cannot be helped anymore. The more pressure there is upon people to keep them locked up, the more any sense of togetherness dissolves. Life has become full of holes, great gaps have opened up, spaces between tiny islands. No one knows anyone else. What one says and hears never coheres into one view. You still think that you stand on solid ground until all of a sudden you fall into a hole. When you finally realize that you have fallen into a hole and are lost, you can yell all you want but nobody comes. Should someone happen by, he either doesn’t see anything or has his hands full or doesn’t have the time to help. There is no such thing as family life, for here there is only hell. You keep on as if there is no such thing as love or care, but rather only the agony that people suffer. Caroline is too weak to resist giving someone the shirt off her back. Any talk of togetherness is nothing but lies, much like the silent piano that the dust motes shower dust upon, though nobody has the nerve to haul off the old crate.
Since Ida is gone, Caroline has only her roommates to talk to. Ida and her crippled hands have left. Whenever Zerlina comes in and behaves as if Ida will sit down next to Caroline at any moment, she can hardly stand it. It’s unbearable when Zerlina greets them both. It’s crazy. What would Ida think of it? Each should meet her fate alone, but that’s not what happened to her. One day they were told that two thousand people had to leave, strong men and women ready for work. Sort them out from among yourselves, you’re forty thousand people in all! Anyone under twenty for sure, you won’t mind it at all, such a small bloodletting won’t hurt at all, so off with you! Off with you! Don’t ask the reasons why, or where you’re headed. What matters is: we need you! Don’t say anything about already being prisoners and that should be enough. No, that’s not enough, we want more from you and think it fine if we throw you all together. Prisoners should travel, the world is wide and bright, you should see some of it! Here you’re so packed in one atop another! You complain that the rooms are too full? We’re happy to assist you and provide Ruhenthal with a little breathing room!
Why do you all hide? Whoever hides will only be discovered, and he won’t like the journey from there on out. You’re all free to go. Report! Off with you! You don’t want to go? Okay, then it doesn’t matter if we force you to take a journey. We’re telling you what the law is. It’s slavery. It always manifests itself when it’s not wanted, that’s its nature, because otherwise there would be no slavery on Earth, and people could rest easy. Step forward if you want to be condemned to slavery! That amounts to self-condemnation, in which the strong are victorious and the weak are defeated. All of you, get ready! We will take you on the journey. Each of you can bring yourself along as well as some bags, though not too many, because otherwise the journey will be uncomfortable, and you still have to be herded together. We just wouldn’t feel good about it, trains that are too full are bad for the railroad.
Onward a little farther. Maybe even backward. Leopold had often wished for that. After the war … that’s what he always said. That is not necessary, for even during the war one can travel. It does one good and enriches oneself to experience the wide world, for it nourishes life. You all can see for the first time how many towns there are in the countryside. There’s plenty of room for you, for you don’t need much. The horizons of travelers are broadened, and you always valued education so much. Can you appreciate the fact that we’re doing all of this for you for free? All we ask for in return is your life, thus the price is cheap, for what is your life worth? Used up and worth nothing! No one would think of buying it, and so it belongs to us, and we’re shipping you off. You have nothing to lose, and only something to gain. Whoever doesn’t know how to help himself otherwise, just go with the flow! Get yourselves ready and don’t be late, because in three days we’ll be picking you up. The song is over.
And so they selected Ida. She is a widow on her own who can travel. Nobody will miss her since she has no family here. A sister with children doesn’t count.—But Ida is so sick and helpless.—Doesn’t
matter!—The terrible rheumatism that’s gripped her hands.—Doesn’t matter!—It says only those who can work.… Ida can’t because of her hunched back!—Doesn’t matter!—She can cook. She’s been darning stockings for years.—One can’t just sit around quietly patching clothes in Ruhenthal. Off with you! Ida is number twenty. During the war small intimate bonds are ripped apart that no longer can be patched together. It’s not bad luck to have to leave. Soldiers travel, and so can Ida.—Where to?—The soldiers don’t know.—The course of the war can change.—Ida won’t die in battle, at least as a prisoner she’ll be looked after.—No, that’s not so. She can only die.—But anyone can die anywhere. With a knapsack on their back and a rifle.—Ida doesn’t know how to shoot.—Doesn’t matter! Anyone can learn.—She might keel over because of her hunched back!—It’s good when one bends one’s back. The bullets fly over and then she won’t die. Only the twentieth one dies.—But Ida is the twentieth.—But not out of those who die, only out of those who journey on.—Ida is not very fit.—We’ll turn her into a canteen woman.—That’s inhumane!—No, the war is very humane.
Be brave, Frau Ida, be brave. Back home there will be a welcome awaiting you when it’s all over, yes, back home. You say that you can’t imagine greeting anyone again? Don’t be ridiculous! Life begins at sixty. Your neighbors will take care of you. Does that mean you’ll be looked after? Why, of course it does, which is why we’re taking you along, in order to better look after you.—But Ida can indeed be taken care of here.…—No, that can’t happen. Whoever is looked after must willingly accept such care. But Ida doesn’t want it and bristles at the idea, needing to be coaxed like a young girl as she cries and complains. She doesn’t want to be hooked up to a freight car, she doesn’t want anything to do with a cold, heartless train. She loved the man whom she married, not like Caroline and Leopold. No, Ida most certainly will not travel, she has a heart condition, she isn’t up to the rigors of the journey, she is not even curious, she is handicapped, she has no interest whatsoever, none, really, it would please her much more to stay in Ruhenthal.—That’s nonsense, how can she just say that when she isn’t even convinced of it herself! Is it really all that nice here?—Of course it isn’t, yet she knows what she knows; unknown happiness hurts more than familiar pain.—Enough of this useless chatter! There it’s completely different, and Ida at least has the chance to make the comparison. After the war, after sharing her greetings once again, Ida can say what it was like back then and there, and what she found to be the nicest part.
Ida concedes that it’s a trap, a bad business with no good intentions involved. If it were not bad, they would not keep secret the journey’s destination. If one can get along here, what need is there to be elsewhere? There’s no reason for it, this journey is a waste of time.…—Useless considerations, Ida, for it’s better to just give in, because then you won’t worry your head about it all to no purpose, for nothing clever ever came of that. If we really did have bad intentions, as people assert, then the journey wouldn’t be necessary, the evil deeds could be done much more easily in Ruhenthal, for the fortress graves are wide and deep enough for all of the prisoners to fall into after being shot. No, there is no danger threatening anyone. The journey is taking place in order to answer the most pressing questions. Everyone who remains behind should be grateful, and even more thankful if they travel on, for they will have it much better. The table is already bedecked with white linen. The flowers stand in the vase giving off their scent. Old folks homes with silky gardenias. Sanatoriums with community rooms and numerous good doctors! Parks with comfortable benches on which to rest in the sun, in the shade, however one wishes. It will be a new home, comfortable, friendly, and healthy.
But where will it be, sir?—No, that we can’t reveal to you.—We’re ready to get away from here, we love the train station. Best would be if you just let us go free. Come on, just tell us, where is this long journey taking us?—It’s a surprise, dear children, a journey into the wild blue yonder. Soon you’ll be there and will see it all. Just get in here, for it will be a long, long train with an able locomotive placed at the helm. It’s whistle will howl out your song the whole way through so that every switchman and stationmaster will understand, Attention, attention, they’re coming, keep all tracks open in order that the train is secure and has a secure escort. Nothing can stop it. Our trains are reliable and have the lowest accident rates of any trains on the planet. The automatic signal system brings any train that is going the wrong way to a stop as soon as possible before any catastrophe occurs. Everyone knows this, of course, for even before this our train system was renowned.—Yet the question still stands, who knows where we’re headed? Someone has to know! You can’t just send us off into thin air, into just nothing!—How many times do we have to repeat what we’ve told you? Into the wild blue yonder, into the blue! Okay, that’s enough yapping, just get ready for a surprise! The final destination will please you all!
Ida got her little piece of paper. The messenger had not even knocked. He just stood there as the light was quickly turned on, because it was the middle of the night. There was nothing on the piece of paper except
SCHWARZ, IDA—6/1/1882
That was all, and yet it made her cry. Caroline also wept. Everyone in the room wept. They are so sad in the middle of the night and cannot sleep, although nothing has happened. Just a piece of paper. Ida is exactly the same as everyone else in the room, one among twenty. What would happen if there were only nineteen? Could you hide out in the attic for three days? In the cellar? Sickness will certainly save you! For sick people the journey into the wild blue yonder is not healthy. Then the doctors show up, they look at the thermometer, look down the throat, they take the pulse, they do everything that doctors are supposed to do. Then they say: “Be patient! You will hear from us!” Ida should hide out among the dead. Being dead for three days is not too long. If you are not alive then you don’t have to leave. Then the journey is postponed and postponed once again. But Ida cannot die, because she is alive and there. She will have to take her own life, but that she does not want to do. And so she lives and will journey on, because the doctors have said that she can travel. Her life is not in danger; all she needs is some powder to take along the way, yes, the same powder that Dr. Lustig had ordered for her and which always helped. Certainly, as soon as she arrives she will have to be placed in a doctor’s care, though she will be looked after, for she can take a written referral with her so that one can be informed about the condition of her heart, excessive strain to be avoided at all costs, though they can do what they need to since there are good doctors everywhere who know their craft.
“It all depends on the choice of doctors, my dear sirs. Here I’m satisfied and am used to the ones I have.”
“That’s your mistake, dear Frau Schwarz. Whoever gets too used to things in these times must suffer.”
To wander is the miller’s joy.—That’s right, but a journey all the way to Jutland seems a bit much!—Who told you we’re headed to Jutland?—Supposedly Lippe-Detmold, a lovely town!—No, maybe Strassburg, by chance.… But that can’t be! Innsbruck, I must leave you! Ruhenthal, I must leave you! Oh world, I must leave you! Don’t leave anything! Take it all with you! You’ll need it. I must travel, I fear, and say good-bye to my true dear. Singing is not allowed because of cramped quarters. Will you, my dear boy, come with me? I’m not a boy, I’m Ida Schwarz, widow, sister of Caroline, Caroline Lustig. Will you, Ida Schwarz, come with me? I don’t want to go; the song is over. I might catch cold. Impossible, the journey happens in sealed cars. This prevents any drafts. You can sit such that your heart points in the direction of the journey. Otherwise one sees nothing at night. The journey’s direction leads straight into the future. Only in large stations are there any lights, but only a few, because for the most part there are just freight cars. Even a heart condition does not allow you to lean out. So stay inside the car! Duck your head! Beware, high voltage! Touching wires, even by the downfallen, is dange
rous. Keep your skull inside! The butterflies are flying around, though they’re actually moths. Don’t turn on any lights, otherwise they will burn their wings.