ROSA LUXEMBURG
5
masses of bare rocks, dark grey, below rich olive groves, cherry laurels
and century-old chestnut trees. And over all this, a calm such as might
have preceded the creation of the world-no human voice, no bird's
cry, only the noise of a little river winding somewhere between the
stones, and up among the crevices of the rocks, the murmur of the
wind-the same that swelled the sails of Ulysses' ship. And the people
you meet are in complete harmony with the landscape. Suddenly, at
the bend of a path, appears a caravan-the Corsicans still walk in
line one behind the other, not in groups like our peasants. The caravan
is usually preceded by a dog; then very slowly comes a goat, or a
little donkey carrying bags full of chestnuts. This little donkey is fol–
lowed .by a big mule: on its back, astraddle, legs hanging straight
down, a woman with a child in her arms. She holds herself straight,
slim as a cypress, motionless; beside her, his carriage firm and peace–
ful, walks a man with a large beard. Both are silent. You would swear
it was the Holy Family. And you meet scenes like this everywhere.
It affected me each time, until I would gladly have knelt down as I
always feel a desire to do before perfect beauty. In those countries the
Bible and the life of ancient times are still real. Every night we would
sleep in a different place, and would already be on the road when the
sun rose. Does this mean anything to you? I would be so happy to
be able to show you that world....
Read a great deal; you must go forward intellectually too, and
you can. You have kept all your freshness and your mind has remained
flexible. I must stop now. Be happy and calm.
Yours, ROSA
Wronke, February 18, 1917
... For a long time nothing had shaken me as much as Martha's
report of your visit to Karl and the impression it made on you to see
him behind a grille. Why didn't you tell me about it? I have a special
right to take part in your suffering, and would never belittle
it.
More–
over, what I read reminded me acutely of the moment when I saw
my brothers and sisters again for the first time, ten years ago, in the
fortress of Varsovia. There, they take you into a sort of double cage,
with sides made of wire grille, that is into a little cage locked up in
the middle of a larger one, and it is across the glint of two superim–
posed grilles that you have to talk. On top of this, the visit came on
the day following a hunger strike that had lasted six days, and I was
so weakened that the captain (commander of the fortress) was almost
obliged to carry me into the parlor. I had to cling to the wire of the
cage with both hands to keep from falling, which probably gave me
even more the look of a wild beast in a zoo. The cage was in a rather
