31 Ottilie Wildermuth’s fairy tale reconstructed
Ottilie Wildermuth’s fairy tale reconstructed (Heissenbuttel, translated by machine)
Even if you come across a true story in life that is not as amusing and entertaining as some fictionalised ones, it may still be good for the mind, which looks into a story in which things turn out quite differently than one would dream and wish for at a young age.
Even if Ottilie Wildermuth is wholeheartedly in favour of d’Alembert, she does not know what the true nature of this disquiet might be and, as will only become clear in the course of subsequent events, what her true state of mind is. For who is Ottilie Wildermuth that she should endeavour to pursue d’Alembert of all people, and is there any sense in her doing so? Since he has never learnt to remove bitterness and mistrust from his heart and his trust, whatever he wastes it on, is disappointed. She could have succeeded in many things, almost succeeded in many things. But this was never to be. And when the door falls irrevocably, so to speak, into the lock, she is startled and begins (like Eduard) to wander to and fro in the house, where the talking voices are still alive. She tries to cover up her sleeping brother Andie W.’s exposed body and switches off the light, listening in the dark for his breathing. She gives evasive answers to Dr Samuel Johnson and the tortoise, her other brothers Helmut Maria and Bertolt, who have remained curious despite the advancing night.
Even if the bright light of joy is extinguished, there are still points of light in every life. And even if all that remains is the name Ottilie says to herself, she can still return to past days in her thoughts. Of course, what she finds there is not much, and as she moves on, frightened and restless, through the night that has taken in the one she seeks, she knows well that some marvellous fate will not come. For this is no fairy tale. 333 334 If she follows the sentence: d’Alembert is gone, everything remains as it was in the house, where the talking voices and the curiosity about what is to come will not be silenced. She takes the taxi she has hailed to Hallerplatz. The spherically pruned Kate Greenaway trees indicate her path, and it is the sight of this ball of redthorn, mindful of which she will always continue to walk towards the unknown. In the distance she recognises the burning piano, which she will hear called the liveliest old damn thing in Europe. Shadows Voices Laughter Windows banging. Other voices. Silence. New laughter. Singing. But D’Alembert’s flat is completely dark and empty. Nothing responds to the ringing of the doorbell. Nothing answers the knocks and soft calls. The man coming in, who lives downstairs, is in his first sleep and will only appear later. The semi-circular curved staircase leads as if upwards into the unforeseeable. Finally, it wanders around again in the dark and moves as if in a circle around centres that are unrecognisable.
Now the strange voice asks in the darkness, and Ottilie begins to forget why she has come. Shall we make our entrance? asks the strange voice, it is the travelling Anna, and Ottilie follows her, unsure whether it is the fairy tale that comes when no one expects it. But this is no fairy tale. She sits with the strangers in the strange room, drinking, smoking, talking and unhurried, as if about to do something she is certainly not yet determined to do. Has Ottilie Wildermuth been found? is the only question the strangers ask. And since they see her, they talk among themselves, but she doesn’t understand what they are talking about, but it doesn’t worry her that she doesn’t understand. Travelling Anna lies with her and touches her body. Her toes are spread. She has short legs. Her legs are hairy. Her arms are covered in hair. Her forehead is hairy. She has a beard on her upper lip and touches many parts of her body with her lips. Auricle Auricle Auricle of the eyelid Nipple Armpit Umbilical hollow Crevice uvula Popliteal fossa Toe splay. Ottilie Wildermuth poisoned that she came here because Ottilie Wildermuth was to be united with d’Alembert. For if it was the attempt that was made, it could not succeed in the end, and not least because d’Alembert never reckoned with Ottilie Wildermuth, but at most with a person like Andie W.; but all the beautiful and bold dreams that he had imagined fall apart by themselves. His education for this was nevertheless inadequate and no longer suitable for the profession to which his stunted figure had descended. But when Ottilie Wildermuth wakes up, she lies naked under the woollen blanket and is abandoned. Abandoned, she startles up and, in this one last moment, wants to change everything once again. That is not necessary. She sees the flame leap to the sky, hears the heart-rending cry and doesn’t recognise it. Footsteps in the night mingle with the first colour of the sky. At last it becomes quiet, and, dead tired, she falls back on the packs of her clothes into a heavy sleep.
It will touch her that he has ended almost at the same place where she wilfully brought herself into temptation and yet in the end, even if in the opposite sense, has been saved from it, or more correctly, has changed in it. Because, as she will have learnt, everything is right. When the day dawns, the pale sun will illuminate what is there.
