The Jail. Experiences in 1916. Josef Svatopluk Machar
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Название: The Jail. Experiences in 1916
Автор: Josef Svatopluk Machar
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Документальная литература
isbn: 4064066463038
isbn:
"Wait a moment, doctor, just a brief comment upon this canine idyl of yours. The dog,—that tallies. But the room and the carpet do not tally, and as for the sun, we have never been in it at all. However, that's all, I will not go to his Excellency. Good-day."
This canine idyl had thoroughly warmed me up. And it opened out extremely distant perspectives to me; I now saw clearly all that had happened, was happening and would happen…
The reports about Dr. Kramář grew more and more copious. It was said that he was being cross-examined by Dr. Preminger,—who was Dr. Preminger? A man from Czernowitz. The Imperial Counsellor Penížek assured everybody convincingly whom he met: "Dr. Kramář can think himself lucky to have fallen into the hands of a Jew from Bukowina whose heart is in the right place." Good. There was even a rumour that the case would not be tried at all. Then it was asserted that there would be a trial, and that it would last several days. Lieut. Preminger was said to be on his way to Prague and was cross-examining somebody somewhere. Stuergkh was said to have been conferring in the matter. A deputation of Young Czech delegates had been received in audience by the General Staff. Everything, it was said, would turn out well.
Both Czech Ministers were retaining a firm hold upon their posts, a fact which also aroused a certain amount of confidence. Could they have remained, if there had been anything serious against Kramář? Certainly not,—for with the person of Dr. Kramář the whole nation would be affected. And if there were nothing? They would be still less able to remain. At any rate, that was how the people judged it, but the Ministers themselves found a different solution,—they remained. They did this, it was said, to avert still worse matters which were preparing, and some of which might prove fatal. And these too, they averted, so it was said. It will be the task of history to decide which would have been better and more honourable. Today we can assert with the determinists that what happened had to happen, and we can add that it is a good thing it happened as it did, otherwise things would not be as they are today.
That was a beautiful spring. Day by day the sky was a clear blue, the air was fresh, the birds sang, the armies of the Central Powers advanced victorioust further and further through Russian-Poland, fortress upon fortress fell, every report announced swarms of prisoners, captured cannon, machine-guns, motor-cars, provision stores, clothes, boots,—there was joy on all sides, for the newspaper strategists announced that the war would soon come to a victorious end and peace was upon the horizon;—only above the lands of the Bohemian crown hung a black cloud, and the atmosphere beneath it was sultry, we breathed heavily, very heavily.
1 ↑ Man is a reed shaken by the wind! I vowed to myself and also declared that, after the deletion to which my first chapter fell a prey, I would not continue with "The Jail",—and behold, as soon as I recieved the news that fresh and capable persons had entered the Prague censorship, I am writing again after all. Truly, a reed shaken by the wind!
Chapter III
III.
It was the morning of June 17th. I left my office, collected my letters and proceeded home. The landlady of the neighbouring house, Mrs. Helena Krásná, was leaning out of the window, she beckoned to me and called out: "There are officers in your house, they want to take you away to Prague", and, as a matter of fact, a motor-car was standing in front of the building. Also, some man or other was cautiously following me, not leaving me out of his sight; I had not noticed him previously.
Already? I thought to myself. And why can it be? I did not know, but the continual feeling of uncertainty such as was possessed at that time by every man whose language was Czech, had not left me since the arrest of Dr. Kramář. Perhaps it was some accusation,—at that time they were showering down like drops of rain in spring,—perhaps it was my mere existence, perhaps it was as Dr. Herben put it: some General or other is sitting down looking at a map, you pass by him and sneeze, the General turns round and you are immediately guilty of the crime of interfering with military operations,—well, it was possible that l had sneezed in this way,—who knows? We shall see.
I entered the house, the little fellow from the street behind me.
In the room there were three officers, a captain, two lieutenants and a little volunteer officer, obviously a Jew, with a foxy look. They clicked their heels and introduced themselves. "Lieutenant Dr. Preminger" said a man of medium size with scanty fair hair and pale blue eyes. So that is he.
"What do you want, gentlemen?"
"Could we see the letters that you have from Dr. Kramář? And could we have a general look around among your things? Here is the written order. "And Preminger handed me a paper.
A stamp, a signature, a hectographed text, only the name and address written in. "Certainly."
The man from the street stood in the anteroom. "Nobody is allowed to leave the house", Dr. Preminger instructed him.
Out of a box I took a bundle of letters which Dr. Kramář had written to me from the Crimea sixteen or seventeen years ago, and I gave them to Preminger. "You will allow me, gentlemen, to have my lunch, I suppose?"
Preminger bowed. "In the meanwhile we will have a look at the books, everything is of interest to us, both written and printed matter." They sat down and removed books from the shelves; I had my lunch in the next room. I was calm and said to myself: whatever it may be, I must show no weakness. I ate slowly, from outside could be heard the measured snorting of the motor-car, in the next room my guests were engaged in conversation. "I tell you that the Roumanians will go against us, I was ten years in a Roumanian regiment and I know them“, expounded the Captain.
"I don't believe it", declared Preminger and closed one of my books noisily.
I was finished and went in to them.
"I will take these letters with me", remarked Preminger and he thrust some letters of Kramář into his breast-pocket. "And now we will see whether anything else will suit us. First of all show us all your correspondence."
"War-time? Or all of it?"
"The whole lot."
I began with the dead. Winter—
"Who was he?"
"An author, and excellent man. Further: Čech—"
"Who was he?"
"A great poet. A field-marshal was ordered to his funeral. Vrchlický—"
"Ah, Vrhliky,—I have heard of him. Is he dead too?"
"Slavíček, a painter —"
"Is he dead too?"
"He shot himself"—Šimáček,
Neruda
,
Sládek
—
"Dead? This is a regular graveyard. We want live ones", remarked Preminger.
"Here. СКАЧАТЬ