Berlin Alexanderplatz: The Story of Franz Biberkopf (64 page)

Now at last he is assistant door-man in a medium-sized factory. He is no longer alone on Alexanderplatz. There are people to the right, and people to the left of him, some walk in front of him, others behind him.

Much unhappiness comes from walking alone. When there are several, it’s somewhat different. I must get the habit of listening to others, for what the others say concerns me, too. Then I learn who I am, and what I can undertake. Everywhere about me my battle is being fought, and I must beware, before I know I’m in the thick of it.

He is assistant door-man in a factory. What is fate anyway? One is stronger than I. If there are two of us, it grows harder to be stronger than I. If there are ten of us, it’s harder still. And if there are a thousand of us and a million, then it’s very hard, indeed.

But it is also nicer and better to be with others. Then I feel and I know everything twice as well. A ship cannot lie in safety without a big anchor, and a man cannot exist without many other men. The true and the false I will know better now. Once I got myself into trouble for a single word and had to pay bitterly for it, this shan’t happen to Biberkopf again. The words come rolling up to us, we must be careful not to get run over; if we don’t watch out for the autobus, it’ll make apple-sauce out of us. I’ll never again stake my word on anything in the world. Dear Fatherland, be comfort thine, I’ll watch, and use these eyes o’ mine.

Often they march past his window with flags and music and singing. Biberkopf watches coolly from his door, he’ll not join the parade any more. Shut your trap, in step, old cuss, march along with the rest of us. But if I march along, I shall have to pay for it later on with my head, pay for the schemes of others. That’s why I first figure out everything, and only if everything’s quite O. K., and suits me, I’ll take action. Reason is the gift of man, jackasses replace it with a clan.

Biberkopf is working as assistant door-man, takes numbers, checks cars, sees who comes in and goes out.

Keep awake, keep awake, for there is something happening in the world. The world is not made of sugar. If they drop gas-bombs, I’ll have to choke to death; nobody knows why they are dropped, but that’s neither here nor there, we had the time to prepare for it.

If war comes along and they conscript me, and I don’t know why, and the war’s started without me, well, then it’s my fault, it serves me right. Keep awake ‘mid the strife, we’re not alone in life. Let it hail and storm, there’s no way of guarding against it, but we can defend ourselves against many other things. So I will not go on shouting as once I did: Fate, Fate! It’s no use revering it merely as Fate, we must look at it, grasp it, down it, and not hesitate. Keep awake, eyes front, attention, a thousand belong together, and he who won’t watch out, is fit to flay and flout.

The drums roll behind him. Marching, marching. We tramp to war with iron tread, a hundred minstrels march ahead, red of night and red of day, deathward leads the way.

Biberkopf is a humble workman. We know what we know, the price we paid was not low.

The way leads to freedom, to freedom it goes. The old world must crumble. Awake, wind of dawn!

And get in step, and right and left and right and left, marching: marching on, we tramp to war, a hundred minstrels march before, with fife and drum, drrum, brrum, for one the road goes straight, for another it goes to the side, one stands fast, another’s killed, one rushes past, another’s voice is stilled, drrum, brrumm, drrumm!

THE END