Chapter 59 Chapter 58

A Jew's Journey (from Ellen Jastrow's manuscript) February 20, 1943 Baden-Baden... I will never forget the moment when the train passed through the open gate and a huge red swastika flag fluttered over the gate, written in German The signage of the began to appear on both sides of the tracks.We were sitting in the dining car and had salted fish and rotten potatoes for lunch.The faces of the Americans around us are worthy of being painted.I just couldn't bear to look at my niece.She later told me that she was so terrified that she hardly noticed when we crossed the border.Even now, she still said so.The horror I saw on her face was that of someone washed away by Niagara Falls.

For me, there is no such a feeling of falling off a cliff.I have quite fond memories of Germany before Hitler came to power; when the 1936 Olympic Games were held, I went to Germany for a few days to write an article for a magazine. With the swastika flag flying everywhere, I didn't encounter any major problems other than feeling uneasy inside.I know a few Jews who travel to Germany on business deals;Neither will they be in much danger.The Germans always keep things on track; that's their virtue and their horror at the same time.The traveling Jews are on the track of tourism, just as I am on the track of news interviews, so they are safe and sound.I now pin my hopes on this characteristic of the Teutonic nation.Even if the most frightening rumors about the brutality of the Germans were true, we are now on the diplomatic track.I can't imagine anti-Semitism jumping out of its orbit to hurt those of us in our orbit, especially now that we're being negotiated to trade us with German spies, probably one-to-five, or one-to-one A ratio of four goes to exchange.

Still, in the first few days of our arrival, I didn't catch my breath in peace.Natalie didn't eat or sleep for a week.She held her son on her lap, her eyes flashed with a look of terror that she was going to fight someone desperately, and she seemed a little out of her mind.After a while, though, we both settled down.There is an old saying that says that the most frightening thing about people is not knowing what troubles are going to happen to you.Once your most feared thing happens to you, it may not be as scary as you imagined.Life at the Brenner Park Hotel was certainly grim, but we were used to it by now, and above all it was terribly boring.If in the future someone asks me what depresses me most in Baden-Baden, fear or boredom, I shall have to say: "It is boredom, and far more than fear."

We are completely cut off from the local population.Our shortwave radios were confiscated, and we heard nothing but broadcasts from Berlin.The only newspapers and magazines we have are Nazi publications, and the two French newspapers are full of the most obscene German lies, but in the language of Molière, Voltaire, Lamartine and Hugo.It was prostitution, worse than a poor French whore at the mercy of German hairy soldiers.If I were a French journalist, I would rather have them shoot me than sully my honor and my elegant language in this way.At least, I hope I can do this. So little to read, no news to hear, nothing to do, made the condition of all Americans imprisoned in Baden-Baden worse every day, and mine probably more than anyone else.For five weeks, I didn't write a diary entry.I used to be proud of my work habits, I used to be like Anthony.Like Trollope, I have a lot to write and nothing else to do, but I let this diary sit there, like a young schoolgirl opening a diary. After turning his head, he became lazy and let the almost blank diary lie on the desk to become moldy. It was not rediscovered by his daughter who was already a student until twenty years later, which made her giggle.

But, blow your horn!Yesterday, when the first batch of food from the Red Cross arrived, everyone became elated and the dull air disappeared.Canned ham!Cornmeal Beef!cheese!Canned salmon!Canned sardines!Canned pineapple!Canned peaches!Egg powder!Instant coffee!white sugar!Margarine!Just writing these words makes me happy too.These everyday American foods look good, taste delicious, and have a revitalizing effect on our moribund physiques. These Germans eat potatoes, black bread, and rotten vegetables every day. How can they fight a big war?Of course, the soldiers ate all the good things, but what about the common people? !Our rations are said to be half as high as the average German.Of course, starch and cellulose can also fill the belly, but eating these things alone, even the dog will not grow up.Not to mention the cooking in this famous hotel, it was almost unpalatable.The Swiss representative reassured us that we were not treated badly, that the food served in hotels all over Germany was much worse than ours these days.As to our diet, the strange arrangement in the dining room, the poor quality of wine, the black-market potato schnapps, the whole situation of our life under the care of our German "masters," I will describe later.These circumstances are worth recording.But now, I would like to add to the things that should be remembered these days.

It's eleven o'clock in the morning and it's cold.Wrapped tightly, I sat on the balcony, bathed in dim sunlight, and wrote this diary.The protein and vitamins sent by the Red Cross were circulating around me at this moment, and I was the same as before, greedily enjoying the sunshine and fresh air, shaking my pen.Thank God! I have been suffering from indigestion since leaving Marseilles.At Lourdes, I thought it was just a moment of nervous tension.But after that terrible lunch on the train, I became very ill and have been having irregular bowel movements ever since.But today, I feel perfectly healthy, almost like a young lad.I took a good shit (it's absurd to write about it, but it's true) and felt like clucking like a hen that just laid her eggs.I'm sure my body's miraculous sudden turnaround was not just nutritionally related but psychologically as well, and my stomach recognizes American food.I should be grateful for its political sensitivity.

About Luis. He is the darling of the whole hotel.He was getting smarter, talking, and likable every day.He started captivating everyone on the train.When he was in Lourdes, people rarely saw him, but at the station, someone gave him a delicate toy monkey that could bark, and when he got on the train, he ran around stumbling around, holding the monkey and calling the adults Pinch, although the car was rickety, he was able to maintain his balance, which made everyone admire him.Seeing that he was having so much fun, Natalie let him run around.The atmosphere in the car was less gloomy because of him.He even took the monkey up to our uniformed German secret police, who at first hesitated, then took the monkey too, pinching it with a tense face and squealing. With a cry!

Everyone in the carriage burst into laughter. As for why everyone laughed, it would take a treatise like Meredith's on the spirit of comedy to explain why.The Gestapo looked around in great embarrassment and then laughed too; for a split second all of us, even the Gestapo, seemed to feel strongly about the absurdity of this war.It became the talk of the whole crew, and this little doll with a toy monkey in his hand became our number one person at the Brenner Park Hotel. Perhaps I should not have devoted so much space to such trifles as to illustrate the child's consoling nature.I've had several illnesses (several times very severe) in recent weeks, and the only reason I'm not adopting a passive attitude of resignation is because I have one big thing in mind: I can't until Natalie and Louise are safe, And never reconciled to this collapse.If necessary, I will kill them to protect them. In order to be able to protect them, I am determined to fight against depression and disease.Our flimsy press credentials rest on my few magazine articles.The special treatment we received - a two-room suite with a balcony on the upper floors of the building, overlooking the hotel gardens and a park - could only be due to my modest literary status.In the end, our very existence may depend on whether my book-club selection will catapult me ​​from academic obscurity to something of a celebrity.

There were many children in our group, but Louis stood out the most.He became a privileged elf, and our naval attache was a good looter, from whom Louis always got more and better food than anyone else.When this man found out that Natalie was a member of the Navy, he became her servant.Their relationship was very close, but (I'm sure Brown was very innocent. He used to bring Louis milk, eggs, and even meat. Although hot plates were banned, he also sent Natalie one, Natalie cooks on the balcony in order to emit the smell of oily smoke. He wants the drama group to perform "The Flower Girl", and he is now talking and trying to get her to play the role of Eliza. She is indeed considering agreeing. We The three of us often played card games together, or guessed charades. In short, Natalie and I lived a very strange and ordinary life considering that we were in Germany under Hitler's rule. , we are like passengers on an indefinite voyage on a third-class steamship, constantly looking for ways to pass the time. Boredom is the repeated bass tone of our lives, and fear is but the occasional high-pitched hiss of the piccolo .

Our Jewishness has been exposed.The German foreign office official stationed at the Brenner Park Hotel was always deliberately flattering my copy of "Jesus of a Jew".He really has a lot of insight when he talks about this book.At first I was horrified, but now that I know that the Germans are always thorough in their affairs, I now feel that my hope of getting away with it was naive. My name is in Who's Who in the World, Who's Who, and various other large academic reference books.So far, my Jewishness hasn't helped me, but my little fame has helped.Germans respect writers and professors.

It must have been for this reason that I received the most attentive medical attention.If any of us were unwell, our American doctor—he was a Red Cross worker—liked to jokingly call it "detention sickness," and he tended to do the same with my gastroenteritis Look at it and laugh it off.But in the third week, when my condition got really serious, he asked me to be hospitalized.It was for this reason that I met Dr. R. at the Baden-Baden Municipal Hospital—even if in code in illegible Yiddish letters, I would not write his real name here.When I have more time in the future, I must describe this Dr. R well.Now Natalie is calling me to lunch.We handed over some of our precious Red Cross food to the hotel kitchen, and they promised to cook something decent.We're about to get a taste of corned beef chowder right now.We've finally found a way to make those disgusting potatoes a little more palatable. February 21st Baden-Baden I was very ill last night, and today I am far from recovered.However, now that I have started again, I am determined to keep the diary.Just moving my pen across the paper also makes me feel alive. The hotel kitchen made a huge mess of our beef chowder, much to my displeasure.Anger definitely triggered my indigestion.Is there any dish that is easier to cook than this?But the result was still burnt, hard, cold, greasy, and downright disgusting.We have learned our lesson.Me and Natalie, and the naval attache, put together the food that the Red Cross gave us, cooked it in our own room, ate it in our own room, and as for the German soldiers, let them go to hell Bar!Others are doing the same thing, and the aroma of cooking wafts through the corridor. According to the latest rumors, in order to show civilization and respect for religion, the Germans will release us on Easter and exchange them.pinckney.Although Tucker himself told me that this was nothing more than wishful thinking, rumors continued to circulate.The psychology of our group is really interesting.If I describe these psychology well, I can really write a novel that can be compared with the novel. Unfortunately, I don't have this kind of creative talent at all.If Luis hadn't been so young, he might have been a Thomas in our group.Man; his keen little head may be at this moment - recording everything we cannot perceive. Speaking of Easter, it reminds me of that period of my diary entry in Lourdes, where I made only one beginning of my aborted conversion to Catholicism.It was a story many years ago, and it was painful to tell it, like rekindling the ashes that had cooled.However, if this diary survives my death, it can be the last word of my humble life that has been hastily passed in this world.That being the case, let me write down the main outlines of the matter by hand, as I shall be able to cover it in a paragraph or two.I have already described the circumstances of my estrangement from the Talmud of Auschwitz, which is the crux of everything. I can't tell my father about it.For Polish Jews, respect for our parents is ingrained in our nature.My father was an affable man, an implement dealer, and also had a thriving bicycle business.We were from a good family, and he was very pious and learned, but never asked why.He would have been shocked to learn that I had become a non-Jewish person.So, I continued to be a top student in the Talmud, and in the bottom of my heart I laughed at Mrs. Reza and at the submissive little fools around me. Our family doctor is a Yiddish-speaking agnostic.At that time, every Jewish doctor who came back from college always smelled of pork.One day, on a whim, I went to him to borrow Darwin's books from him. "Darwin"--that's how it's called in whispers in Codex schools--is the Satan of today's wicked world.This "Darwin," whose German edition was difficult for me to read; but I devoured it hungrily, reading it secretly by candlelight at night and hiding outside during the day.For the first time in my life I broke the Sabbath when I came out to the meadow by the river with a book of Darwin in my pocket.The Sabbath commandment forbids the loading of heavy objects in "public grounds," and books are among the heavy objects.Oddly enough, even though I was spiritually broken with my faith, it was still difficult to walk out of my father's house with that book on a Saturday. Later, the doctor lent me books by Haeckel, Spinoza, Schopenhauer, and Nietzsche.I couldn't wait to read all these books, just like a teenager reading pornographic books, both with relish and secretly ashamed.I specifically look for chapters that are blasphemous first, such as mocking miracles and God, attacking the Bible, and so on.Among them were two anthologies in German that I shall never forget, one called An Introduction to Science and the other called The Great Modern Thinkers, cheap green paperbacks.Galileo, Copernicus, Newton, Voltaire, Hobbes, Hume, Rousseau, Kant, this group of brilliant and great figures, just me, a fifteen-year-old Jewish boy, lying alone in the Vistula When I was on the grass by the river, it suddenly broke into my thoughts.I studied like a madman for two or three weeks, and my world, my father's world, collapsed, destroyed, shattered, shattered, turned into a heap of rubble, turned into a piece of dust, never to be restored, just Like the statue of Ozymandias that fell over the desert. My mind has been opened ever since. After my family immigrated to the United States, I became an unusually precocious wonder at a Brooklyn high school.I learned English as easily as memorizing multiplication tables, and within two years I had completed the entire course and won a scholarship to attend Harvard.At that time, no matter how I spoke, behaved or dressed, I was completely American in the eyes of my parents.They were proud of my scholarship to Harvard, but also worried and scared.However, how can they keep me in trouble?I went to school away from home. At Harvard, I was a whiz.The professors, as well as their wives, held me in high esteem; I was the guest of many rich and wealthy families, and they found my English, with a touch of the accent of a synagogue, interesting and novel.I take all these pampering incentives for granted.I was young and pretty, like Louis.Like Henry, he has a certain natural charm and a gift for conversation.I can get the literati to share with me my excitement at discovering Western culture.I love America; I have read American literature and history; I can recite Mark.Most of Twain's works.After training in the Codex School, I have the ability of photographic memory.I am able to talk so freely, so well, with original ideas and quotes, that the Bostonians are amazed.At the same time, I was able to incorporate some knowledge of the Talmud into my discussions.It was in this way that I inadvertently realized what would later make me famous, namely, that if someone could introduce Judaism to those Christians as a neglected part of their own historical background, and in the introduction If you maintain a certain dignity and a little irony at the same time, then they will be deeply interested.Thirty years later, I wrote my "Talmud in Early Christianity," which I later rewrote and gave a more striking title: "Jesus of a Jew," and finally made it a A bestseller. As to what happened next, I have nothing to boast about, so I will briefly mention it.Life is so much the same after all!A daughter of a rich family falls in love with a poor governess, but it is a commonplace story.Comedies, novels, tragedies, and movies mostly use this simple theme.I experienced it myself once.She was a rich lady from Boston, and a Catholic.In those early twenties, it is difficult for a person to be intelligent and rational. Once in love, it is impossible to be loyal and honest, whether it is to others or to oneself.My active imagination, my faculties of argument, now acted on me, and convinced me that Christ had entered my soul.Afterwards, things were very simple: Catholicism was the orthodoxy, the treasure house of Christian art and philosophy; at the same time, it formed an exhaustive system of ceremonies, and this was the only religion I could really understand.I converted to Catholicism. It was a superficial dream, and it was especially scary when I woke up, but I got through it quietly.Because of my upbringing, in the depths of my soul I am still—unchanged—the boy at the Auschwitz Talmud who walked into a Christian church through the snow, and when he watched from afar When he saw the image of the crucified Christ on the wall ahead—where the synagogue had placed the shrine—his soul was struck.If her family hadn't kicked me out, if she had stood firm with me instead of just standing in the rain with tears streaming down her face like a melting sugar man, I'd probably still be down I don't know how to wake up.The reason why I praise, pity, and love Jesus of Nazareth, as I have already done, is to study and write about him endlessly. The most fundamental premise is that I cannot have faith in him no matter what. Since all of this happened before 1933, and I never took any action to "reconvert," I was technically exempt from persecution of the Jews under the Nuremberg Laws.As far as I know, this immunity also applies to mixed-race German Jews, and I, as an American, can certainly enjoy this leniency if the worst happens.In 1941, when I was in trouble with my passport, a good friend of mine at the Vatican got me photocopies of documents from Boston proving my conversion to Catholicism.I still have these slightly faded documents.I haven't officially shown these papers so far because I fear they might separate me from Natalie.That absolutely cannot happen.I will only show them if I can help her with them. As for saving my own life—well, I've spent most of it.I don't want to talk about Martin anymore.Luther's book went on.I had originally intended to end my picture of the evolving Christ through history with this figure of the Reformation.But the vulgar Teutonicism of my hero makes me more and more hesitant, not to mention that his slander against the Jews is almost indistinguishable from that of Dr. Goebbels and the like against the Jews.He was a religious genius, I have no doubts about that.But he is a Germanic genius, so he is really an angel of destruction.Luther's most glorious achievement was that he smashed the supremacy of the Pope and the papacy.His insight into weaknesses is astounding, his eloquence provocative.His daring hatred and contempt for the old regime and the old structure have a typical Germanic tone, which is like the deafening roar of the Teutoburg forest, like the blow of the hammer in the hand of Thor.We shall hear the same voice in Marx, the Jew-turned-Germanic man, with the fanatical qualities of both peoples; we shall hear the same voice again in Wagner's music and writings; Hitler's voice shook the world. Let someone else write about Luther's greatness.I would rather go on to write a few Platonic dialogues, as informal as my talk at Harvard, on all the philosophical and political issues of our troubled century.I have nothing new to make a fool of; but my writing is light and smooth, and may perhaps win a few readers, bent on pleasure and money, to pause and give attention to something noteworthy. Another rambling diary!But I have written six full pages.Enduring the severe pain in my abdomen, I gritted my teeth and wrote down every single word.I felt so weak that I didn't even have the strength to get up from this chair.I must be suffering from some serious illness, and it is definitely not a labor pain caused by psychological factors.Alarms went off all over me.I must go see the doctor again. Baden-Baden, February 26, 1943 I feel better now than in the hospital.In fact, three days away from the boredom of the Brenner Park Hotel and the smell of the awful meals would have relieved a lot in itself.The liquids and custards in the hospital do me good, though I'm pretty sure they're the stuff some German ingenuity distilled out of petroleum scum and old tires.I had various gastrointestinal tests in the hospital.I am still awaiting the diagnosis.My hospital stay passed quickly because I had a lot of conversations with Dr. R. He wanted me to be able to testify, when I returned to America, that "another Germany" still existed, humiliated, terrified, and terrified by Hitler's regime; the Germany of the great poets and philosophers, the Germany of Goethe and Beethoven, the Germany of many scientific The Germany of the pioneers, the Germany of the advanced social legislators of the Weimar Republic, the Germany of the progressive labor movement destroyed by Hitler, but also the Germany of the good-natured ordinary people, who in the last three general elections held gradually increased The majority refused to vote for the Nazi Party, but were eventually betrayed by established politicians like Papen and the aging Hindenburgs, who, after enjoying the pinnacle of glory, went so far as to bring Hitler into government, leading to such a catastrophe. As for what would follow, he asked me to imagine what would happen once the Ku Klux Klan seized power in America.That situation is what has happened in Germany, he said, and the Nazi Party was a big Klan.He cites a series of examples: seditious torchlight parades, anti-Semitism, eccentric uniforms, blind hatred of enlightened ideas and foreigners, and so on.I replied that the Ku Klux Klan was just a deranged handful, not a big enough party to run the country.He then cites the Ku Klux Klan during the Reconstruction period of the American Civil War, which was once a respected and large-scale movement, and many leaders in the South participated in it; also worked. Extremism, he said, is the common tuberculosis of modern society, a worldwide epidemic of discontent and hatred caused by too rapid a change and the gradual breakdown of old moral standards.In countries where the situation is more stable, the tuberculosis bacilli are enclosed in calcium-laden tissues, so they manifest themselves in frenzied acts of little harm.But in the event of social unrest, economic depression, war or revolution, these bacteria will swarm out and infect the whole country.This has happened in Germany, and it may happen elsewhere, even in the United States; Germany is now blue-blind because of the infection, said the doctor.Millions of Germans know this all too well and feel it deeply.He himself is a Social Democrat, and Germany will one day return to this road, the only road to the future, to freedom.German culture, and the German people as a whole, must not be punished for producing a Hitler, or for what he did to the Jews.The greatest disaster of the Hitler era actually fell on the Germans themselves.This is Dr. R's argument. So, why was Hitler universally loved by the Germans?His explanation: Terror, combined with total control over newspapers and radio, created an illusion of affection.But I have written a few magazine articles on Hitler, I know the facts and figures, I know how all the institutions of higher learning fell to Hitler all at once, and I know how many of the best minds in Germany scrambled to praise I also understand how people from all walks of life in politics, military, business, and law can't wait to swear allegiance to him impassionedly.I told the doctor that the most important fact that must be explained in future studies of this mad age was the almost total spiritual surrender of the Germanic peoples to Hitler.If you describe Hitler's movement as a Ku Klux Klan movement, then all Germans will either become Ku Klux Klan followers overnight, or become passionate supporters of the Ku Klux Klan, liberalism, humanity It is as if communism and the spirit of democracy never existed in this country. His retort: ​​The American mind is having a hard time comprehending the difficult situation in Germany.Imprisoned in a small, impoverished land of central Europe, they lived for centuries under Russian pressure, with France constantly molesting behind their backs.Their two greatest cultural centers, Prussia and Austria, had been ravaged by Napoleon's armies.Britain and Tsarist Russia colluded with each other and kept the German people in a weak position for a century.All this finally led to the rise of Bismarck; his obstinate adherence to absolutism at a time when liberalism prevailed throughout Europe kept the German people politically immature.By the time of the Great Depression, when the chaotic Weimar system was beginning to unravel, Hitler was making a clear and powerful call for power, which naturally evoked a positive and enthusiastic response.Hitler exploited the best qualities of the nation to achieve an economic recovery similar to that brought about by Roosevelt's New Deal.It is certainly unfortunate that his military victories swallowed up the resistance of a self-respecting people to his criminal tendencies.But don't Americans themselves worship victory as much? There was a foreign-language magazine published by the Propaganda Department on my bed. There was an inexplicably long article written in French, which described the surrender of the German army at Stalingrad as if it had won a great victory.Of course, it is impossible for people in Baden-Baden to know much about the Battle of Stalingrad, but the German army obviously suffered a disastrous defeat. As planned: Sixth Army sacrifices strengthened the Eastern Front and thwarted the Bolshevik campaign.I asked Dr. R.: According to him, would the German people believe it indiscriminately?Or would the revolt against Hitler grow as a result? His answer: I have admirable insight into history, but I am not very good at current military situation.In fact, the Battle of Stalingrad did indeed play a role in stabilizing the Eastern Front.His son, an army officer, mentioned this in his letter.But this is a digression after all, what we are discussing now is the character and culture of the German nation.He said he felt it very important that a man of my stature should understand all of his points, because soon there would be a need for a powerful literary figure to explain them to the peoples of the world. I also once thought that this doctor might be an agent of the German secret police, but I don't think so.His attitude is very sincere.He was a tall, fair-haired man with thick glasses and small eyes that looked very serious when he made his point.He spoke in a low voice, and often subconsciously turned his face to peek at the empty walls.I think he is sincerely trying to convince me that "another Germany" does exist. "Another Germany" certainly exists, and I believe he is one of them.Regrettably, this "other Germany" played a very insignificant role. The preliminary diagnosis on February 27 was ventriculitis.Treatment: special diet, bed rest, continued medication.Several others in our group had stomach ulcers or similar digestive problems.One of the United Press reporters was a heavy drinker who had been escorted by the German Secret Police to Frankfurt for an operation last week.If my condition worsens, I may also be sent to Frankfurt for surgery.Would that mean leaving Natalie?I want pinckney.Tucker discuss it.I would rather die here than leave Natalie.