Tales From the Secret Annex Part 15

Fifteen minutes -- then he spoke. He said: "When you let beauty and peace sink into you, dissension and strife begin to look like sheer insanity. Everything that people make a fuss about becomes unimportant. And yet, I don't always feel this way."

He looked shyly at me, perhaps afraid that I might not understand him. I was delighted that he expected me to answer, that I finally had found a sympathetic person to whom I could tell my thoughts.

"Do you know what I always think?" I said. "That it is silly to fight with people about whom you feel indifferent.

To differ with people for whom you care is another story.

You are fond of them, and it hurts you more than it an- gers you when they provoke you."

"Do you really think so, too? But you don't quarrel much, do you?"

"No, but enough to know what it is like. The worst of it is that most people go alone through this world."

"What do you mean by that?" Jacques now was looking straight at me, but I decided to persist; perhaps I might be able to help him.

"I mean that most people, married or single, stand in- wardly alone. They have no one with whom they can talk about all of their feelings and thoughts; and that is what I miss the most."

All Jacques said was, "It is the same with me."

We took another look at the sky. Then he said, "People who, as you put it, have no one to talk to, miss much, very much. And it is just that realization which so often depresses me."

"No, I don't agree. n.o.body can help feeling depressed now and then, but there's no point in antic.i.p.ating that you're going to be sad.

"You see, what you look for when you are depressed is happiness. No matter how much you miss someone to whom you could express your feelings, happiness, once you have found it and keep it in your heart, can never be lost."

"How did you find it?"

I got up. "Come along," I said, and I went ahead of him, up the stairs, to the attic. There was a storage s.p.a.ce with a window. The house was unusually tall, and when we looked out of the window, we saw a great stretch of sky.

"Look," I said. "If you want to find happiness within yourself, you have to go outside on a day with much sun and a lovely blue sky. Or you could stand at a window such as this, and look at our city under the brilliant blue.

Sooner or later, you will find it.

"Let me tell you what happened to me. I was in board- ing school, which I never liked. The older I got, the more

I disliked it. One free afternoon, I went alone for a walk on the moor. I sat down and dreamed for a while.

"When I looked up again, I realized that it was a glorious day. Until then, I had been so wrapped up in my own gloomy thoughts that 1 had paid no attention to it.

"From the moment that I saw and felt the beauty all around me, that little nagging inner voice stopped reminding me of my worries. I could no longer feel or think of anything but that this was beauty and this was truth.

"I sat there for about half an hour, and when I got up and walked back to that hateful school, I was no longer depressed. Everything impressed me as good and beautiful, the way it really was.

"Later I understood that, on that afternoon, 1 had for the first time found happiness within myself. I also realized that no matter what the circ.u.mstances, happiness is always there."

"And did it change you?" he asked.

"Yes, it did. I was content. Not always, mind you; I still grumbled from time to time, but I never was down -- right miserable again. I had learned that most sadness comes from self-pity, but that happiness comes from joy."

When 1 had finished, he was still looking out of the window and seemed lost in thought. Suddenly he turned and looked at me.

"I haven't found happiness yet," he said, "but I found something else-someone who understands me."

I knew what he meant. From then on, I was no longer alone.

Give

March 26, 1944

I wonder if any of the people sitting in warm, comfort- able homes have any idea what it must be like to be a beggar? Have any of those "good, dear people" ever asked themselves about the lives of poor people or children around them? All right, everyone gives a beggar a few coppers now and then. But it is usually pushed hurriedly into his hands, and the door is closed with a bang. And what is more, the generous donor usually shudders at hav- ing to touch such a dirty hand. Is it true, or isn't it? And then people are surprised that beggars become so rude. Wouldn't anyone, who was treated more like a beast than a human being?

It is bad, very bad indeed, that in a country which claims to have good social laws and a high standard of culture people should treat each other in this way. Most of the well-to-do people regard a beggar as someone to be despised, dirty and uncared for, rude and uncivilized. But have any of them ever asked themselves how these poor wretches have become like this? Just compare your own children with these poor children. Whatever is the difference really? Your children are clean and tidy, the others dirty and uncared for. Is that all? Yes, that's really the only difference. But if a poor beggar's child were to receive good clothes and learn nice manners, then there wouldn't be any difference at all.

We are all born alike, they were helpless and innocent too. Everyone breathes the same air, a great many people believe in the same G.o.d! And yet, yet the difference can be so immeasurably great, because so many people have never realized where the difference really lies. Because if they had realized it, they would have discovered that there really wasn't any difference at all. Everyone is born the same, everyone has to die, and nothing remains of their worldly glory. Riches, power, and fame last only for a few years! Why do people cling so desperately to these transitory things? Why can't people who have more than they need for themselves give that surplus to their fellow citizens? Why should some people have such a hard time during their few years on this earth? But above all, let the gifts be given kindly and not just flung in their faces; ev- eryone has the right to a friendly word! Why should one be nicer to a rich woman than to a poor one? Has anyone sorted out the difference in character between the two? The true greatness of a person does not lie in riches or power, but in character and goodness. Everyone is human, everyone has his faults and shortcomings, but everyone is born with a great deal that is good in him. And if one were to begin by encouraging the good, instead of smothering it, by giving poor people the feeling that they are human beings too, one would not even need money or possessions to do this.

Everything begins with the little things. For instance, don't only stand up in a tram for the rich mothers, no, remember the poor ones too. Say you are sorry if you step on a poor person's toes as you would for someone rich. People will always follow a good example; be the one to set the good example, then it won't be long before others follow. More and more people will become friendly and generous, until finally poor people will not be looked down upon anymore.

Oh, if only we were that far already, that our country and then Europe and finally the whole world would realize that people were really kindly disposed toward one another, that they are all equal and everything else is just transitory!

How lovely to think that no one need wait a moment, we can start now, start slowly changing the world! How lovely that everyone, great and small, can make their con- tribution toward introducing justice straightaway! Just as with so many things, most people seek justice in quite another quarter, they grumble because they receive so lit- tle of it themselves. Open your eyes, first make sure that you are always fair yourself! Give of yourself, give as much as you can! And you can always, always give some- thing, even if it is only kindness! If everyone were to do this and not be as mean with a kindly word, then there would be much more justice and love in the world. Give and you shall receive, much more than you would have ever thought possible. Give, give again and again, don't lose courage, keep it up and go on giving! No one has ever become poor from giving! If you do this, then in a few generations no one will need to pity the beggar children anymore, because they will not exist!

There is plenty of room for everyone in the world, enough money, riches, and beauty for all to share! G.o.d has made enough for everyone! Let us all begin then by sharing it fairly.

Who Is Interesting?

Last week I was riding in the train on my way to see my aunt in Bussum. My plan was to enjoy myself in the train at least, because putting up with Aunt Josephine's company for a whole week is no fun at all.

So there I sat with my plan, but I was unlucky, be- cause at first sight my companions didn't look very interesting or amusing. The little old woman who sat facing me was friendly enough, but not at all amusing, and neither was the distinguished gentleman next to her, who couldn't possibly have been pried loose from his newspaper, and the peasant woman on the other side didn't look much like a friendly chat. But I'd made up my mind to enjoy myself, and no one was going to stop me.

If necessary, I'd just have to pester somebody; well, in that case, I'd put the blame on Aunt Josephine's long skinny neck. After I'd mulled over my plan for ten or fifteen minutes, certainly looking no more amusing than my traveling companions, the train stopped at the first station and to my great joy a gentleman of about thirty got in, who looked interesting if not amusing.

Women in general are convinced that young men with graying hair at the temples are interesting, and I have never doubted the truth of this belief. So now I thought I'd put an interesting man to the test; I certainly wasn't going to accept his interestingness without proof.

The big question was: How was I going to make this interesting man show his mettle? Another fifteen minutes must have pa.s.sed when I suddenly hit on a very simple and undoubtedly common stratagem; I simply dropped my handkerchief, and really the effect was breathtaking.

Not only did the interesting gentleman most gallantly (what else could he do?) pick my handkerchief up from the dirty floor; he also, of his own accord, took the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

"Well, young lady," he began affably, under his breath of course, because there was no need for the others to hear, "here is your property, but in exchange for your handkerchief I'd be glad to know your name."

Frankly I thought him rather bold, but since I was determined to be amused at all costs, I answered in the same tone and said: "Yes, sir, why not? My name is Miss Van Bergen."

He gave me a reproachful look and said ingratiatingly:

"Oh, my dear young lady, I'd so much like to know your first name."

"Very well, it's Hetty."