Hermann Hesse - The Fairy Tales of Hermann Hesse

I found my apartment partially destroyed by bombs from some planes, but I was able to sleep there even though it was cold and uncomfortable. Later the rubble on the floor and the damp mold on the walls disturbed me, and I left to take a walk.

I went through some streets of the city that had changed a great deal from the way they were before. I was struck most by the fact that there were no shops to be seen. The streets were without life. I had walked but a short time when I met a man with a tin number on his hat, and he asked me what I was doing. I told him I was taking a walk.

His response: “Do you have permission?”

I did not understand him. We exchanged words, and he demanded that I follow him to the nearest precinct.

We came to a street lined with buildings that all had white door plates hanging on them, designating the offices with numbers and letters.

“Unemployed Civilians” was stamped on a door plate, and the number 2487B4. That was where we entered. The usual offices, waiting rooms, and corridors smelled of paper, damp clothes, and stuffy air. After some questioning, I was taken to room 72D and interrogated there.

An official stood before me and examined me. “Can’t you stand straight?” he asked severely. I said no. He asked: “Why not?” “I never learned how to do it,” I responded coyly.

“So then, you were arrested as you were taking a walk without a certificate of permission. Do you admit this?”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s correct. I didn’t know it was necessary. You see, I had been sick for a long time—”

He waved his hand. “You must be punished, and for the next three days you’ll be prohibited from walking in shoes. Take off your shoes!”

I took off my shoes.

“My God!” the official exclaimed with horror. “My God, you’re wearing leather shoes! Where did you get them? Are you completely crazy?”

“Perhaps I’m not absolutely normal. I’m not exactly the best judge of this. I bought the shoes some time ago.”

“You know that the wearing of leather in any form whatsoever by civilians is strictly forbidden. Your shoes will stay here. They will be confiscated. Now show me your identification papers!”

Dear Lord, I didn’t have any.

“I’ve not experienced anything like this for at least a year!” The official sighed and called for a policeman. “Bring this man into office 194, room 8.”

I was forced to walk barefoot through some streets. Then we entered another administration building and went through corridors, breathing the smell of paper and hopelessness. I was pushed into a room and was interrogated by another official, who was wearing a uniform.

“You were found on the street without identification papers, so I must fine you two thousand guilders. I’ll write the receipt for you right away.”

“Forgive me,” I said timidly. “I don’t have that much with me. Couldn’t you lock me up for a while instead of fining me?”

He laughed loudly.

“Lock you up? My dear man, how can you think something like that? Do you think that we’d like to feed you, in addition to all this? No, my good man, if you cannot pay this small amount, you will be given the hardest punishment of all. I’ll have to demand the provisional deprivation of your license to exist. Please give me your license-to-exist card!”

I had none.

Now the official was completely speechless. He called for two colleagues, whispered to them for a long time, and pointed to me frequently. They all regarded me with fear and great astonishment. Then he had me taken to a jail until my case could be fully discussed.

Many people were standing and sitting there. A soldier stood on guard in front of the door. It struck me that, despite my lack of shoes, I was by far the best-dressed person in the cell, and the others were somewhat in awe of me. So they made room to let me sit down, and immediately a small, shy man pressed up next to me, leaned over carefully, and whispered into my ear, “Listen, I’ll make you a fabulous deal. I have a sugar beet at home! A perfectly good sugar beet! It weighs almost six pounds. You can have it. But what will you offer me in return?”

He leaned over and put his ear close to my lips, and I whispered, “Make me an offer yourself! How much do you want to have?”

“Let’s say a hundred and fifteen guilders!” he answered.

I shook my head and became absorbed in my thoughts.

I saw I had been away too long. It was difficult to accustom myself to this life again. I would have given a great deal for a pair of shoes or socks, for my bare feet were terribly cold, and I had been forced to walk through wet streets. But there was nobody in the room who was not barefoot.

After some hours had passed, they came for me. I was led into office number 285, room 19F. This time the policeman remained with me. He positioned himself between me and his superior, who seemed to me to be a very high official.

“You’ve managed to get yourself into quite a bad predicament,” he began. “You’re here in this city and living without a license to exist. I’m sure you know that this calls for the most severe punishment.”

I made a slight bow.

“If you’ll permit me,” I said, “I have just one request to make of you. I completely agree that I can’t handle this situation, and that my predicament is bound to become worse. So would it be possible for you to sentence me to death? I’d appreciate that very much!”

The high official gave me a mild look.

“I understand why you’re saying this,” he said gently. “But if I granted it, then everyone could eventually come with such a request. In any event, you’d have to buy a death card. Do you have the money for it? It costs four thousand guilders.”

“No, I don’t have that much. But I’d give all that I have. I have a great longing to die.”

He smiled strangely.

“I believe you. You’re not the only one. But it’s not so easy to die. You’re a citizen of a state and are obligated to this state with body and soul. I’m sure you know this. By the way — I see that you’ve registered yourself as Emil Sinclair. Are you the writer Sinclair?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh, I’m very pleased. I hope I can be of service to you. Officer, you may leave now.”

The policeman left, and the official offered me his hand.

“I’ve read your books with great interest,” he said courteously, “and I’ll try to help you as much as I possibly can. But tell me, dear God, how did you manage to get yourself into this terrible predicament?”

“Well, I was away for a long time. I had taken flight into the cosmos for a while. It may have been two or three years, and quite frankly I had hoped that the war would come to an end in the meantime, more or less. But tell me, can’t you obtain a death card for me? I’d be extremely grateful.”

“Perhaps I can manage it. But before I can arrange anything, you must have a license to live. Without it, any step I took would be hopeless. I’ll give you a letter of recommendation for office 127.

With my guarantee you’ll at least be able to obtain a provisional license to live. Of course it’s only valid for two days.”

“Oh, that’s more than enough time!”

“Very well! After you have it, come back to me.”

I shook hands with him.

“One more thing,” I said quietly. “May I ask you another question? You can imagine how badly informed I am about current events.”

“Please, please.”

“Well then, I’d be interested most of all in knowing how it is possible that life can go on at all under these circumstances. How can the people put up with all of this?”

“Well now,” he responded, “you’re in a particularly bad situation as a civilian and entirely without papers! There are very few civilians left. Whoever is not a soldier is a civil servant. This makes life more bearable for most people. Many are even very happy. And they have gradually become accustomed to the deprivation. When we gradually had to give up potatoes and become accustomed to wood pulp — it’s lightly charred, which makes it rather tasty — everyone thought that we would never be able to bear this. And now it’s worked out well. And that’s the way it is with everything.”