Berlin Alexanderplatz: The Story of Franz Biberkopf (53 page)

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Authors: Alfred Döblin

Tags: #Philosophy, #General

BOOK: Berlin Alexanderplatz: The Story of Franz Biberkopf
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The judge and commissioner look at each other, the automobile flies along, plunges into holes in the road, jumps up, the trees flash past, here’s where I rode with him, 180 days I give you. “I suppose something happened between you two and your friendship went to smash, heh?” “Yeah, you know how it is (he wants to give me the works, but I won’t let him get away with it, stop, I getcha). It’s like this, Judge: Reinhold is a tough customer, and, as a matter of fact, he wanted to get rid of me, too.” “Well, did he start anything against you?” “Nope, it was what he said.” “Nothing else.” “Nope.” “Well, we’ll see about that.”

Two days later the body of Mieze is found about a half a mile away from the hollow, in the same wood. As soon as the newspapers report the case, two of the garden laborers present themselves and testify that they saw a man walking through the wood alone, near that spot, carrying a heavy trunk. They both spoke of it at the time, wondering what he
was carrying, later the man took a rest and sat in the hollow. When they came back half an hour later, he was still sitting there in his shirt-sleeves, they didn’t see the trunk, it probably was in the hole. They give a pretty exact description of the man; about 5 feet 8, very broad shoulders, wearing a black derby, a light-gray summer suit, a pepper-and-salt coat, he drags his legs when he walks, looks like an invalid, a very high wrinkled forehead. There are many hollows in the region indicated by the two witnesses, and the police dogs prove useless; so they have to dig up all the hollows thereabout. In one of them, after a few spadefuls of earth have been cleared, they come upon a big brown cardboard box, tied with string. When the commissioner opens it, they find a woman’s clothes, a torn chemise, a pair of long light stockings, an old brown woolen dress, dirty handkerchiefs, two toothbrushes. The cardboard box is somewhat wet, but not soaked through, its general appearance suggests that it has not been lying there for long. Incomprehensible, wasn’t the corpse wearing a pink blouse?

Soon afterwards they find the trunk in another hollow, and the body is inside it in a crouching position, firmly tied with curtain-cords. In the evening reports are flashed to all the stations, to the provincial police stations as well, with a description of the suspect, and so on.

Reinhold realizes, when he is questioned at headquarters, that the game is up. So now he gets Franz involved in trouble, as well. Why shouldn’t it have been him? What can Karl prove? It’s doubtful if anybody saw me in Freienwalde. Maybe somebody saw me at the restaurant or on the road, but it don’t matter, it’s worth trying, gotta get Franz to go away, so it’ll look as if he was in it, too.

That afternoon, after leaving headquarters, Reinhold is upstairs with Franz, Karl the tinner is snitching on us, he says, make yourself scarce. So Franz, helped by Reinhold, gets his things packed in a quarter of an hour. They curse Karl together. Then Eva gets Toni, one of her old girl friends in Wilmersdorf to put Franz up. Reinhold rides out to Wilmersdorf in the automobile and they buy trunks together. Reinhold wants to go abroad and he needs a huge trunk; at first he chooses a wardrobe trunk, then decides on a wooden trunk, the biggest he can carry, don’t trust porters, they spy on a guy, you’ll get my address, Franz, remember me to Eva.

Terrible disaster in Prague, 21 dead have already been brought to the surface, 150 persons are still buried; in a few minutes a new building 7 stories high was reduced to a heap of ruins, there are still many dead and injured lying underneath. The whole structure of reinforced concrete weighing nearly 1000 tons plunged into the two underground basements. The policeman on duty in the street warned passers-by when he heard sounds of cracking in the building and had the presence of mind to jump on to a street-car coming up at that moment and apply the brakes himself. Terrible storms are raging on the Atlantic. The weather report for the Atlantic ocean is as follows: cyclonic depressions, one after another, are coming from North America in an easterly direction, while the two high-pressure areas in Central America and between Greenland and Ireland, are stationary. The newspapers are full of long articles about the Graf Zeppelin and its prospective flight. Every detail of the airship’s construction, the personality of the commander and the prospects of success in the enterprise is discussed exhaustively, enthusiastic editorials extol German efficiency and the prior achievements of the Zeppelin airship. Despite all the propaganda that has been made in favor of airplanes, the airship affords, we are assured, the ideal means of air travel in the future . But the Zeppelin does not start, for Eckener will not incur needless risks.

They open the trunk in which Mieze lay. She was the daughter of a street-car conductor from Bernau. There were three children in the family, the mother deserted her husband and left the home, why, nobody knows. Mieze was alone in the house and had to do everything herself. Sometimes at night she rode in to Berlin and went to dance-halls or to Lestmann and other places nearby, occasionally she was taken by this one or the other to a hotel; then it was too late and she didn’t dare come home, so she stayed on in Berlin and met Eva; that’s how it started. They were at the police station near the Stettin Depot. A cheerful life began then for Mieze, who at first called herself Sonia, she had many acquaintances and friends, but later on she always lived with one man, a strong fellow with one arm whom Mieze loved at first sight and to whom she remained true till the end. A bad end, a sad end, was the last end of Mieze. And why, why, why? What crime had she committed? She came from Bernau into the whirl of Berlin, she was not an innocent girl, certainly not, but her love for him was pure and steadfast; he was her man and she took care of him like a child. She was struck down because she happened by chance to encounter this man; such is life, it’s really inconceivable. She rode out to Freienwalde to protect her friend, and there she was strangled, strangled, killed, extinguished; sllch is life.

They take the finger-prints on her throat and face, and now she’s only a case for criminal inquiry, a technical process, just as when a telephone wire is laid, that’s what she has come to. They take her death-mask, paint everything in natura) colors, it’s an exan likeness, in a kind of celluloid. So there is Mieze, her face and throat are ill a cupboard filled with legal documents, come on now, come on now, we’ll soon be home, Aschinger’s, you must console me, I’m yourn. She is displayed under glass now, face smashed, heart smashed, abdomen smashed, her smile smashed, you must console me, come along.

So I returned and considered all the Oppressions that are done under the Sun

Franz, why do you sigh, Franzeken? Why must Eva be always gliding up to your side and asking you what you think, and she gets no reply, must always go away without an answer? Why are you so depressed, and why must you cringe, cringe, and cringe in a little nook, behind a little curtain, and take such tiny little steps? You know life, you didn’t fall upon the earth yesterday, you have a nose for things and you can observe. But you see nothing, you hear nothing, you can only sense things, you dare not turn your eyes towards them, but look at them from the side, nor do you flee, you are too obstinate to flee, so you clench your teeth, you are no coward, only you don’t know what may happen and whether you can take up the burden, whether your shoulders are strong enough to bear it.

How much did Job, the man from the land of Uz, suffer before he knew all and nothing could afflict him more. The Sabeans fell upon his servants, and slew them, the fire of God fell from heaven and burnt up the sheep and the servants, the Chaldeans fell upon and slew his camels and their drivers, his sons and daughters were sitting in their eldest brother’s house, and there came a wind from the wilderness and smote the four corners of the house and the young men were slain.

That was much, but it was not enough. Job rent his mantle, bit his hands, and shaved his head and heaped ashes upon himself. But it was not yet enough. Job was stricken with sores, he had boils from the sales of his feet unto his crown, he sat down among the ashes and the pus flowed from him and he took him a potsherd to scrape himself withal.

His friends came and visited him, Eliphaz the Temanite, and Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite, they came from afar to console him, they lifted up their voices and wept fearfully, they did not recognize Job; thus terribly was Job stricken. He had had seven sons and three daughters and seven thousand sheep and three thousand camels and five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred she-asses and a very great household.

Franz Biberkopf, you have not lost as much as did Job, the man of Uz, but it is slowly coming upon you, also. With little steps you draw yourself near to that which has befallen you, you say to yourself a thousand words of consolation, you flatter yourself, for you wish to risk it, you are resolved to draw nearer, you are resolved to affront the utmost, yea, woe is you, to affront the bitterest end. Not that, oh not that! You encourage yourself, you love yourself: come, nothing will happen, and we can’t escape, anyway. But something in you wills it, refuses it. You sigh. How can I find shelter when disaster befalls, to what can I cling? Nearer it comes. And you, too, approach it like a snail; you are no coward, not only have you strong muscles, you are Franz Biberkopf, you are the cobra. See it coiling, inch by inch around the monster, that stands there, about to seize him.

You will lose no money, Franz, but you will be burnt up in your innermost soul! See how the whore rejoices! The whore of Babylon. And there came one of the seven angels which had the seven vials, and talked with me, saying unto me, Come hither; I will show unto thee the judgment of the great whore that sitteth upon many waters; and I saw a woman sit upon a scarlet colored beast, having a golden cup in her hand; and upon her forehead was a name written,
MYSTERY
. And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints.

You sense her now, you feel her. Ah, will you now be strong, will you escape destruction?

In the pretty bright room of the Wilmersdorfer Strasse villa, Franz Biberkopf sits and waits.

The cobra coils itself, lies basking in the sun. A great bore all this, for he’s vigorous and would like to do something, a fellow just lies around, they have not yet fixed up where to meet, fat Toni has supplied him with dark smoked glasses, I’ve got to get a brand-new outfit. I might get myself a student’s scar on my face. There’s somebody running across the courtyard. He’s in a hurry all right. Nothing comes too late for me. If only people wouldn’t hurry so much, they’d live twice as long, and get three times as much done. It’s the same thing with the six-day bicycle race, they pedal and pedal, steadily all the time, they are patient, the milk won’t boil over, let the public whistle, what do they know about it, anyhow?

There’s a knock in the hallway. Well, why don’t they ring’? Damn it, I’ll fly the coop, but there’s only one exit. Let’s listen.

With little steps you drag yourself up, you say to yourself a thousand words of consolation, you flatter yourself, lure yourself, you are ready for the utmost, but not for the very bitter, oh, not for the very bitterest end.

Let’s listen. What’s that’? Don’t I know her’? I certainly know that voice. Screaming, crying, crying. Let’s see. Terror, haunting terror, what are you thinking of now’? There’s so much one thinks about. Sure, I know her, it’s Eva!

The door opens. Outside stands Eva, fat Toni has her arms around her. She’s whimpering, sobbing, whatsa matter with the girl? A man thinks about so many things, all that’s happened, Mieze screaming, Reinhold lying in the bed. “Howdy, Eva. Well, Eva, old girl, well, what is it, hold on, hold on, anything happened, it’s not goin’ to be as bad as all that.” “Lemme go.” How she grunts, probably got a good whacking somewhere, somebody must have beat her up, wait a minute. She must have told Herbert something, Herbert knows something about the child. “Did he beat you up, Herbert?” “Lemme go. Don’t touch me.” Her eyes looked so queer. Now she don’t want to have anything to do with me any more. Didn’t she want it herself? Whatsa matter, anyhow? What’s wrong, more people coming, let’s bolt the door. Toni stands there, talking excitedly to Eva. “Hush, Eva, don’t worry. Now stop that, what’s wrong, come in. Where’s Herbert?” “I won’t go in, I won’t go in.” “Well, come along, let’s sit down. I’ve made some coffee. Go away Franz.” “Why should I go away, I ain’t done nothin’.”

Then Eva’s eyes grow bigger, terribly bigger, as if she wanted to eat up somebody, she starts screaming, grabs Franz by the vest: “He’s got to come along, he’s got to come in here, he must come in here with me. You got to come here with us.” Whatsa matter with her, that woman’s crazy, has anybody told her anything? Eva starts dithering on the sofa, beside fat Toni. The girl looks bloated and shaky, that’s on account of her condition, but she got that from me, why, I ain’t goin’ to do nothin’ to her. Eva puts her arms around fat Toni and whispers something in her ear; at first she cannot speak, but then she gets it out. Now something comes over Toni, too. She slaps her hands together, while Eva dithers and takes a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. They’ve all gone batty. Are they trying to stage something with me or what, what’s that in the paper anyway, maybe about our job in the Stralauer Strasse? Franz stands up and shouts: those women are damned fools. “You monkeys. Don’t start makin’ scenes for my benefit, or I guess you think I’m your monkey.” “For God’s sake, for God’s sake!” Fat Toni has sat down, Eva goes on blubbering, looking in front of her; she says nothing, just whimpers and shakes. Then Franz reaches across the table and tears the paper from fat Toni’s hands.

There are two pictures on it, one next to the other, what horrible, horrible, ghastly fright, that’s me-sure enough it’s me. But why? On account of the Stralauer Strasse business? But why? Horror of horror, that’s me and there’s Reinhold. Headline: Murder. Murder of a Prostitute in Freienwalde, Emilie Parsunke of Bernau. Mieze. What’s that? Me. Behind the stove a mouse is sitting, soon it will be flitting, flitting!

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