Authors: H. G. Adler
Simon says that you might as well commit suicide then, but Siegler smiles at this, saying that’s too easy, for as Grabbe says at the end of a tragedy, we do not fall out of the world once we are already in it, and so life in a certain sense is an eternal process from whose clutches not even suicide frees us, which Grabbe’s hero knew. The views of philosophers from Heraclitus to Nietzsche aside, we indeed learn from fate, if only in the sense that we learn that life continues on despite its dissolution, and that in truth man cannot cut himself off from it, but instead must immerse himself, meaning that he may indeed be a victim, but he is also a witness, and through that each can—whether through his own disposition or caprice—find a certain
freedom, namely the freedom of knowledge or the ability to know. The difference between men may very well lie only in the degree to which someone takes hold of this freedom, versus those who deny it, despite whatever reasons there may be for seizing hold of it. At this Josef wonders whether it’s because there is not an obvious cause to rise to, no clear act or even a way to prepare for it, whereby one’s inner tendency remains independent of any possible or actual dissolution, meaning an act that one could accomplish and can accomplish in order to devote oneself to it and thus arrive at an overall sense of purpose that potentially leads one through any catastrophe, though Josef wants to again point out that it must require a
genuine
readiness. He is well aware that he is not expressing himself clearly enough, but what he is talking about is the need to maintain an unwavering intent that is not entirely tied to the general course of daily events but instead keeps its eye on an ideal that helps one become independent, no matter what goes on in the world, as well as remaining independent of the web of relations we find ourselves ensnared in. In short, Josef doesn’t believe that all such supposed or actual ascension or demise is the final authority on how human beings should live their lives.
Siegler doesn’t agree, it not being possible through reason to account for what really happens, it being necessary that a person breathe the air of the world as it happens in order to appreciate this formulation, for sometimes it rises and sometimes it falls, just as sometimes one is lifted up and at other times cast down, the only response available being the ability to grasp this and know it in the way that Siegler has already explained. Josef is not convinced, but no more is said about the issue, Siegler turning to a discussion of memory and saying that memory is solace, and man should not close himself off to such solace. Simon here is a good example, for he has music, and he can recollect powerfully what he has played or heard, all of which gives rise to images, perhaps images within tones, but images with foregrounds and backgrounds and, even more so, moving images that continually change, as in a panorama, which perhaps Simon knows as a precursor to the cinema, it being obvious that one can’t just jump into such images but instead you stand before them, and where Simon stands there is a new railroad, then there is his work detail, then the pick and the shovel that he clutches, then there is the continual noise surrounding him, and his
thoughts about his father and mother, then there is worry and fear, all of this part of an unbroken moment, the railcar needing to be filled in thirty minutes, always such hurry and trepidation about whether you will be finished in time, Sajdl a rather unpleasant colleague as he stands behind your work and pushes Simon on, your every movement watched, while you have to slog away twice as hard if your neighbor is lazy or can’t go on anymore, all of this so immediate, so much the outward run of things which Simon can’t escape. But for him there is something unattainable that no one can seize hold of, otherwise it could be gotten to, but through memory you can still access a part of it, and for Simon that means music, though Siegler admits that he has no such thing himself, he being not very musical, nor does he even have any kind of relation to art, yet perhaps his knowledge of literature is enough, novels and dramas coming most to mind, they being able to display life as an intricate amalgamation of social webs, though Siegler prefers to remain removed from literature, for his relation to it is intellectual, and memory is not part of the notional world, but rather it lives in the world of feeling, for he doesn’t mean any kind of sloppy sentiment but instead a continuous stream, he thinking of his trip to Italy, though he has to correct himself, for it’s not a thought but a memory, namely that of the view of the Umbrian landscape from Erementani near Assisi, the view from Orvieto down across the land, the view from the Neopolitan garden down to the sea full of ships, Vesuvius in the background, all of them such powerful memory images. For Simon it’s music, for Josef it might be something else, something that stands outside of time, where time itself exists and is frozen solid, this world of images lending the viewer something to hold fast to. Whoever does not hold such a world within himself, whoever can’t save it, he is today lost before he is even killed, for all will be killed, but Siegler hopes for the strength to be able to maintain such solace right up until that last horrible moment, he also wanting to advise Simon and Josef to maintain this world of images right up until the threshold of their own dissolution, for then it is bearable, you hold tight to your most secret feelings and aspirations, which perhaps are indestructible, even if they cannot be entirely reached.
There is a lot that Josef wants to say in response, he having experienced incidents of what Siegler calls memory intertwined with the present, it also being—as Josef believes—actually intertwined, but he senses that he
shouldn’t say anything now, instead choosing to observe Siegler closely, he certainly being one of the oldest of the laborers, while with his noticeably heavy face full of sorrow, perhaps he is sick, Josef then asking him if the work is too hard. Yes, it’s very hard, but he doesn’t want to fall behind the young boys, for you can’t show how hard it is for you, and he works under Sajdl, where it is certainly harder than anywhere else. Siegler smiles when Josef tells him that he works with Sláma. For Sláma is a summer camp in comparison, he being quite a character who loves to slough off while in Najdek, where Rybák rarely goes, he unfairly having a bad reputation because the young ones are so dumb … well, anyway it must feel like paradise with Sláma, for Sajdl is indeed ambitious, being wild for money and having, in addition to the regular take from the work, entered into a contract with the firm that pays per quota achieved, which is why he always gets after his people so much, for he’s paid according to the number of cars that are filled, while in the evening he sits in the bar with Kopřiva and drinks nearly a full bottle of schnapps, his wife drinking nearly as much as he, though he’s not really that awful, all you have to do is convince him that you’re willing and not just sloughing off and you will be allowed to talk now and then, he even having a sense of humor.
Simon says that Siegler gets along well with Sajdl because he has been impressed by him, but for the young people it’s hard, for nothing they do impresses him, and they all have to do whatever he tells them to. Siegler thinks the youths go about it all wrong, telling Sajdl always that they can’t do as much as he wants, and then he gets angry, which is why you shouldn’t cross people like him but instead work quietly and steadily without any breaks and without straining yourself too much, the result being that you can aim to accomplish an immense amount in a reasonable manner, which results in his noticing and appreciating such effort, though if you neglect to do so, then he thinks you are a troublemaker, causing him to of course note that everyone works much too fast when observed, while afterward they stand around with empty shovels and gaze off into the distance. Simon thanks him, saying that he had never thought of this and didn’t know that even with forced labor on the railroad there was a certain psychology involved. Siegler confirms that a great deal or at least much requires a pragmatic psychology, for you always need to properly size up your comrades
and your superiors, almost everyone, for example, being afraid of the bookkeeper Podlaha and surmising that he is a slave driver who has no patience with anyone who is sick, for he swears like a sailor whenever anyone requests a sick day, but if Siegler happens not to feel well he quietly goes to him and says that of course you need to work, they need to finish the railroad, but unfortunately he’s not feeling well and needs to see the doctor in order to get better and be back to work soon, he not wanting to be sent to the sick bay by the doctor but instead given some medicine so that he can get back to work by the afternoon, or the next morning at the latest. At this Podlaha turns completely soft and asserts that he’s not a monster, for of course anyone can get sick, he himself having had pleurisy last year, which he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, and so Siegler should hurry to Sobolec, nothing being more important than one’s health, as is the case. This is how to handle such people, you just have to know their weaknesses and bring out the best in them.
Now Josef and Simon are ready to go, they have to get back to their room, it being time to worry about the evening meal. Siegler says that he finds this kind of communal arrangement a splendid solution, because it is so easy to do and yet not so obvious to all, though in his room no such arrangement seems possible, there being two roommates who are a problem, for they receive ample packages containing butter, eggs, bacon, and anything you might wish for, but they want to scarf down these goodies by themselves or trade them for cigarettes, he finding such behavior reprehensible when people are thrown together in dire circumstances, and although they are not starving, they end up trading precious foods, which most have to do without, for nothing more than expendable goods. Siegler’s voice rises more than it has before, even revealing some bitterness, while Simon asks whether Siegler ever receives any packages from his wife. No, for where should she bring them, while, on the contrary, it’s he who sends something to her, two months ago he having had some chance contact with a family of millers from Wirschenowitz, whereby he learned that they had a child who suddenly took ill, and because they had no way of getting a doctor a messenger had been sent to the camp, since supposedly every kind of profession was represented among the laborers, and there are even people in the village who envy the laborers and maintain that they have it too good, all of them
nothing more than parasites, a little bit of hard work good for their lazy bones, even though that applied to only a few, though nonetheless it was true. In any case, they sent someone for Siegler, he protesting that it was forbidden to have anything to do with the villages, but then the miller began to protest that this was serious, the child was bright red with fever, the doctor had to come for God and the angels’ sake. Then Otto said that he had no problem with it, for such a pressing matter demanded that he go, but he should make it quick, as it was still dangerous. Siegler was able to help, and the child, contrary to all expectations, quickly recovered, and since then Siegler goes to the miller once a week and is given flour and other groceries that he then sends to his wife. At this it’s high time for Simon and Josef to be off, as they thank Siegler and leave.
The two friends consider how they might help Siegler without undermining the needs of their own roommates, but they are unable to come up with any satisfactory answer. They propose going for a walk after lunch on Sunday, the day lovely, sunny and warm, as they bring along a bag with a snack in it, since they plan to be away for a good while, six hours in all, maybe seven. After leaving the camp they walk along paths through the fields and after some minutes they come to the embankment for the new railroad near the gravel mill, it being somewhat hard to scrabble over the loose gravel for the embankment, the rail bed stretching out peaceful and empty and desolate, no guards anywhere, the gravel mill silent, the railcars standing idle, two locomotives from the light train resting quietly, producing no steam, everything asleep. Then the friends cross over the embankment and find a path that climbs uphill through the woods, tall powerful trees all around them with thickets in between, raspberries ripe for picking, a bird hiding within, two squirrels skittering deftly across the branches, though everything else is still, time having forgotten itself, quiet clearings that lie there small and appealing between the mild and clearly demarcated copses, followed by the new-growth forest, which has grown up thick, fungi having shot up within it, a bounty of edible mushrooms quickly stashed in their pockets, along with fly agaric, a logged clearing opening up its silent expanse, tree stumps everywhere, some trunks lying piled up, their branches cut off, the stripped bark a reddish brown next to the logs slowly sinking into the loam, tall wild flowers growing up in their array of colors. The path
leads farther on, a peak likely nearby, no doubt the crest that Sláma had called Peperka, Josef translating it somewhat loosely as Pfefferberg, part of a memorable landscape, since it’s a landscape the friends have seen before, Simon having often gone hiking before the war. And at last they reach the peak, a granite cliff looming high and covered with gray-green flecks.
For the purposes of trigonometric navigation a wooden tower has been erected on top of the peak, which is not very high, though it rises above all the treetops surrounding it, a narrow ladder the only means by which to climb up it, where a warning states: “Climbing the tower is not recommended and is dangerous!” Yet right now it doesn’t look that dangerous, the friends not so bothered about being forbidden to climb it, since almost everything is forbidden these days, and so when it’s possible to do something no one really worries about its being forbidden, thus they climb up, the view no doubt worth it, the friends reaching a platform made of planks, a second ladder leading from here to the top, though Simon doesn’t want to go along, since he still feels dizzy, meaning that Josef should go up alone and report from above what he sees. So Josef heads up alone and happily looks around and calls down to say how beautiful it is, only Sajdl’s work site visible, and the barracks as well, Wirschenowitz lying down in the valley to the left, the main road from there toward Pechno completely recognizable, behind it the wide fields stretching out, where there is a group of five slender poplars standing, the peaks and mounds of the mountains following one after another and looking lovely, fields and meadows decorating their slopes, though the peaks have bigger or smaller clusters of trees, a chain of mountains stretching out toward the horizon, their shimmering blue-green contours awash in a soft mist whose breath extinguishes all that is recognizable. Farther off to the left, beyond the creek that runs behind Wirschenowitz, the railroad can be made out, a sulfur-yellow fleck on top of which runs a red line, pastures stretching out behind it, single farms dotting the landscape here and there, and farther on the forest, nothing but endless dark coniferous forest, forest in every direction. Peperka is clearly the highest peak in the area, but far off in the forest landscape Josef notes another peak that is just as high, and which also has a wooden tower atop it, it most likely being Raventop, Sláma having mentioned this as well, the most beautiful forests in the area supposedly existing there.