Letter from Edward Renouf to Anny Schey von Koromla

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Schwaz

2 August

My dear Annerl,

The key has arrived. But the manuscripts in question are not in the cabinet. Hanni said (as I was looking for a hat) that when the Herr Baron was here he turned the whole house upside-down and sacked it so thoroughly that she thought he’d never come back. Is it not also possible that he forced the cabinet open and took the manuscripts? Your bank order was executed without any trouble, and they’ve promised to send you a statement right away. Politically the situation here is calm as you like: the farmers are stacking the hay, the chickens are kicking up dust and chasing grasshoppers, cowbells are ringing, the sun’s shining and the flowers and grasses are swaying gently in the wind. It all looks as though there could never be anything remotely dangerous here, not in a thousand years. They say all those from Schwaz who were Nazis have fled to Germany. The good company in Hanni’s kitchen seems to be Christian Social if it has any affiliation at all. They all appear to be anti-Nazi. Sissy, [struck out: whom I recently met on the road,] with whom I recently walked to the Franciscan church from her place, said the farmers in many of the valleys on the Austro-German border have made it known that if the Nazis ever come to them they’ll be chased out with flails and pitchforks. The assassination of Dollfuss seems to have been a setback rather than progress for the Nazi movement here, especially since the world outside was so unanimous in condemning it, and not least because Mussolini immediately started concentrating his troops at the Brenner Pass. The rest of the world blethers and wails, but he acts. So I don’t think the Austrian political situation will be changing any time soon. And life is cheap: two schillings for a kilo of delicious butter, and Hanni says Rosl will be happy to do the housework for a schilling a day when my mother and sister come. Perhaps it really is a shame that it wasn’t possible for you to come home to your Hügelhof once more. After France it seems cold, invigorating, healthy here. Even colder than it was in Brittany. When the farmers here say it’s boiling hot, it’s just about right for me. And when it’s just about right for the farmers, I keep my pullover on.

You can hardly imagine what it was like being here again for the first few days, Annerl. It drove me crazy. I walked along the old mountain paths again, from the Staudacher to Freundsberg, saw the old grass clearings, the little hazelnut shrubs by the fence, the rowans laden with red berries. I went back to the spot where you laughed as you threw your red parasol down the mountain between the tall spruce trees. And each of the rooms in the house still has its own unforgettable smell. Often I had to stand still and listen – just to see if there’s a sound, a voice, a footstep, an echo that still lives within these walls . . . . . . . . During those first few days I could barely imagine receiving my own sister and mother here, in this enchanted realm. After all, they’re foreigners here and won’t have any idea of the intimate spirits that speak to me from every floorboard, every door handle. It’s almost painful, all this. It’s almost as though I’ve had to struggle to find my way back to the present . . . . . . . But then I sat down and wrote seven long letters as an initial act of self-discipline, and now I’ve calmed down, come back to my senses and I’m ready to get to work.

Greetings to you, Annerl, and also to the kids! I’ll jump for joy when I getta letta!

Yours,

Etl

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