I thought - But it was Bruno who said 'I wonder what's happened to old Franz', as if there might be some virtue to be found in this.
For my meeting with Franz I wore a white shirt and the tartan kilt that I had got in England: I thought - This makes me look like the sort of girl who might be the friend of a Nazi.
On my way through the streets I felt again - But if I am a spy I want to understand how things work: I am an agent for understanding in hostile territory.
In the hallway of the Adlon Hotel there were a lot of foreigners; they seemed alert, watchful. I thought - They have come on the chance of seeing terrible events round some corner. There were a few Nazis standing about bright-eyed, glowing: I thought - It is as if they are about to be flogged.
There were none of the financiers with cigars and women with acorn hats that I remembered from the times when I had come here with my father. I wondered - Where are they now? Looking through cracks in the shutters of guardrooms; wielding burning cigarette-ends in brothels?
There seemed to be something sexual, yes, in the excitement of the foreigners and Nazis in the hotel, at the prospect perhaps of seeing something unnameable happening round a corner.
I could not at first see Franz. There was a boy with fair hair in a Brownshirt uniform whom I imagined for a moment might be Franz: or he might be the boy with whom there had been that air of excitement in that doorway -
Franz was half hidden behind a pillar by the staircase. He had been watching me. When I saw him, for a time he did not move. Then he came over and said i thought you might not recognise me.'
I said 'Why not?'
He said 'You might have thought I had changed.'
I thought - But I do think you have changed!
We went to a table and ordered coffee -and cakes and ices. Franz was paler and more thin. He wore a grey double-breasted suit in the lapel of which was a small swastika badge. When I looked at it he said 'I could have taken it off.'
I said 'I might have put my badge on.'
He said 'What is yours?'
I said 'Oh, the hammer and sickle. The Star of David.'
He said 'That one's different.'
I said 'Why?'
He looked away across the room. Then he said in a quiet voice as if quoting ' - But on a dark night can you tell the difference - '
Then he turned and looked into my eyes as if he was searching for something there. I thought - For whatever might be behind the closed door of a courtyard -
He said 'You remember what we used to say about power?'
I said 'What?'
He said That all ganging together, alignment, is self-destructive.'
I said 'I see.'
I was wondering how there might be described the atmosphere in the hallway of the hotel: it was as if people were on their toes, were on their way to becoming slightly elevated with tension. This was the sexuality of fakirs who lie on hot coals; who cut themselves with knives and there are no marks of wounds in the morning.
I thought - There have been rumours that Hitler might even now be being made Chancellor?
Franz had looked away around the room. When he talked he seemed to be talking to no one in particular; as if he did not mind whether or not, or by whom, his words might be picked up; as if it were likely that they would fall on stony ground.
He said 'You remember I used to say "I do not think it is worth living if the world goes on like this: there is either blindness or such disgust!" Well, why should the world go on? At least things will have very nearly to die, before they change.'
I thought - There are dark rings around Franz's eyes as there are around Bruno's; bits of exhaustion that have got stuck in a grating in a stream.
Then - But are there such rings round mine? Is this a badge that we share?
I said 'That is why you're a Nazi?'
Franz said 'Ever since the Enlightenment, men have thought that they could dominate the world: they've wanted to dominate it by reason. But no one has had the courage, yet, really to try. The Nazis want to try. Well, we'll see what will happen.'
I said 'But Nazis are nothing to do with reason!'
Franz said 'What do you think reason in action is? If things get in your way, remove them.'
I said 'But the way the Nazis are on is nothing to do with reason!'
Franz said 'But that is on a different level from technique. Of course, the way they are on might be to do with destruction.'
There was a group of Jewish businessmen coming down the
stairs. At least, I thought they were Jewish businessmen because they were like those men who, years ago, had been in the Adlon Hotel when I had come with my father. They wore black jackets and striped trousers: they carried document-cases under their arms. I thought - Or this is the way the mind works; we just call them Jewish businessmen; these images get stuck like flotsam against a grating.
Then - But these businessmen must know that this is the way the mind works: why do they choose to be seen like this? Where are the rings of knowing around their eyes!
Then Franz said 'Are you still in touch with that English friend of yours?'
I said 'Yes, I sometimes hear from him.'
Franz said 'Could you put me in touch with him? He is a physicist, isn't he? I'd very much like to ask him some questions.'
I said 'Yes, I'll give you his address.' I thought - But is that why you wanted to see me?
After a time Franz said 'You remember how Heidegger used to say that human life is only lived authentically when one is aware of the presence of death; that without this, there is only the impoverished rubbish of materialism. Well, what happens when you know that power is self-destructive? What, after all, might it be that is killed?'
The group of businessmen had gone to a table in the lounge. They were sorting out papers and replacing them in their document cases: they were not talking. They seemed both aware and unaware that in the lounge and hallway of the Adlon Hotel there had fallen a slight hush: that people were watching them. It was as if the lights in the auditorium of a theatre were going down: a curtain going up. I thought - They can hardly fail to know that they are on some sort of stage!
Franz said 'If the human race does not learn to look at the business of death it will not be a viable species: there will have been too much self-deception. And how else do we learn except through catastrophe? What is evolution?'
I said 'You mean, you think the Nazis might look at the business of what has to die? But they will be more than self-destructive!'
Franz said 'Do you know what work in physics your friend has been doing in England?'
Franz and I were sitting in the lounge of the Adlon Hotel. We
were eating our cakes and ices. I thought - But we ourselves are just off the stage: is it as if we are prompters?
Then - It was I myself who wanted to ask Franz about physics!
The group of businessmen who might be Jewish were standing round a formation of chairs and a table in the lounge: they were facing inwards; they seemed to be posing for an illustration. I thought - Oh they are still like that image I used to have years ago of the General Theory of Relativity: a group of people stand facing inwards and what each one sees comes round and hits him on the back of the head.
Franz said The head of my department was granted an interview with Hitler the other day. He wanted to make some protest about what seems to be the attitude of the Nazis towards the Jewish academics and especially scientists. Nazis have been saying that if they get power they will turn Jewish academics out of the universities and even out of the country. The head of my department wanted to tell Hitler what a disaster it would be if this policy was carried out; much of the research work in chemistry and physics is being done by Jews; the industrial and indeed even military strength of the country might depend on this work. And Hitler seemed to hear him. I mean he seemed to hear the words - this was the head of my department's description of him - but it was as if he heard something quite different in the way of me
aning. It was as if Hitler was getting - the head of my department did not quite know how to describe this - some almost sensuous pleasure from the words; he went up and down on his toes; he seemed to be glowing. And then, when the head of my department had finished, Hitler came over to him and put a hand on his arm and said in a voice that was almost caressing - this is exactly what he said, it makes one's mind go numb - "There are greater things than victory: more terrible things than death."'
There was a group of Brownshirts by the porter's desk in the hallway of the hotel. They were watching the businessmen who might be Jewish in the lounge. The Brownshirts had their feet apart and their stomachs pressed forwards and their thumbs in their belts as if they were peeing. I thought - Oh God, all right, they are showing that they like being peed on.
Franz said 'What do you make of that?'
I said 'I see.'
Franz said The head of my department said that Hitler seemed to have no smell.'
I said 'Do you mean that the Nazis might bring about a change in the world, like devils are supposed to do?'
He said 'A change for the better?'
I said 'Is that what you can't ever say?' Then - 'I have sometimes thought that people like us, you and I, by being observers, might be carriers of what might come after.'
The businessmen were moving towards the door into the street. They had to move past the group of Brownshirts. The hush in the hall had slackened; now it intensified again. As the businessmen went past the Brownshirts one of the latter broke off from his group and followed; he crouched at the knees and let his arms hang down like an ape; he made a grunting noise; then he returned to his group and laughed. One of the businessmen who seemed to be Jewish stopped and turned. I thought - Oh but will not someone kindly go and piss on that Brownshirt if it comforts him!
Franz was looking at me. He said 'Carriers of what?'
I said 'You're not watching.'
Franz said 'I am.'
I said 'Of what we know but can't of course say or even quite see.'
The crowd in the hallway of the hotel had been both watching and trying to seem not to watch the scene going on between the Brownshirts and the businessmen. I thought - But what is the use, for God's sake, in such a situation, of what you can't say or even quite see?
Franz had been looking at the scene in the hallway of the hotel. He said 'You mean, all this is boring.'
I thought - Boring!
The businessman who had turned was still watching the group of Brownshirts. The Brownshirt who had mocked him had now turned and faced him - his thumbs in his belt and his stomach pushed forwards. I thought - But do you not want it to die, this that is boring!
Franz stood up and went over to the Brownshirt and clicked his heels and bowed; then he took out of his pocket a card which he held out to the Brownshirt. After a time, the Brownshirt took it. He smiled somewhat sheepishly. Then Franz went to the door of the hotel into the street and held it open for the group of Jewish businessmen. He bowed to them slightly. The Brownshirts watched him.
I wanted to shout - Oh Franz, I do love you!
As the group of businessmen who seemed to be Jewish went out of the door each one of them bowed to Franz; Franz acknowledged them. When Franz came back past the Brownshirts he stood to attention and clicked his heels again. He seemed to be waiting for some reaction. Then one of the Brownshirts laughed. Then they all began laughing. I wanted to say - But Franz, Franz, be careful; they may kill you!
When Franz came back to my table he said Terrible people.'
I said 'Franz, I will do anything for you!'
He said 'Will you come upstairs with me?'
I said 4 Yes.'
He said 'I've got a room.' Then 'Of course, I staged this whole scene. I knew I would have to do more than just book a room to get you.'
When we were in Franz's room, somewhere at the top of the hotel, Franz hugged me and buried his face in my hair. He said 'Carriers of what, of what! Let me carry you, let me carry me - '
I said 'Do you know the story of Judith and Holofernes?'
Franz said 'Oh for God's sake, do I know the story of Judith and Holofernes!' Then - 'Please, if you want to, chop my head off.'
After we had made love, I had thought - There was a time, once, when I thought that Franz was like a dead crusader -
Franz said 'Do you ever see Bruno?'
I said 'Yes, I see Bruno.'
Franz said 'Tell him to get out.' Franz's face was still buried in my hair. Then he said 'You and Bruno and your mother should get out.'
I thought - How extraordinary to throw in my mother!
Then - But oh Franz, you would not get out!
This was Christmas 1932: a month before Hitler became Chancellor. There were the processions sweating through the streets at night; columns of Brownshirts like a demonstration of intestines with shit. The news in the papers was of the comings and goings at the Chancellery and the President's Palace: photographs were of ugly men like insects on the steps of public buildings. I thought -These are rituals so that life may go on: they are nothing to do with what sort of life might be worth going on with.
In the Rosa Luxemburg Block we waited and watched behind our barricaded doors and windows. I thought - But perhaps I am like a tick waiting to drop onto the hide ofwhatever strange animal
comes lumbering by; to burrow into its bloodstream; to feed off its guts through a long winter.
Or - Life might be worthwhile so long as we can have these images?
I said to Bruno 'I saw Franz the other day.'
Bruno said 'Good old Franz, how is he?'
'He calls himself, but I don't think he really is, a Nazi.'
'I know.'
'He said you and I, we should get out.'
Bruno said 'Good old Franz, is he getting out?'
We had a lecture in the Block one day from a girl who had just come back from Russia. She told us of the miraculous things that were being done under the five-year plan: how dams and power stations were being built; how after only three and a half years of the plan, the Soviet Union now could hold its own against any industrial nation in the world. I thought - But how would one know whether or not such stories are true: or has it really to be accepted that truth is no more than the effect that is made on listeners?
I was sitting next to Bruno. Bruno gazed back at the lecturer with his huge troubled eyes. I wished I had remembered to tell Franz what Bruno had said - 'In a society lined up at the edge of a cliff, who are the traitors?'
But then - Who are the agents of evolution?
After a time the lecturer glared at her audience and said 'You may have seen stories in the Fascist press about conditions on the agricultural front. These stories are lies; but it is necessary to face squarely in the spirit of revolutionary self-criticism the fact that attempts have been made by opportunist elements, yes, to sabotage heroic efforts on the agricultural front. Crops have been burned and cattle have been killed by criminally sectarian peasants or Kulaks rather than that their produce should be provided for the town. So be warned, comrades! The price of freedom is eternal vigilance!'
Bruno clapped loudly and said 'Bravo!'
I thought - For God's sake, Bruno -
Then - There was that lecture years ago at which my father and I saw Einstein clapping and mocking -
At the end of the lecture there was an opportunity for discussion. Bruno stood up and frowned accusingly at the lecturer.
I thought - But Bruno, do you want us to survive?
Bruno said 'Should we not pay more concrete tribute to the
foresight of Comrade Stalin in ensuring that there has been this failure in the five-year plan - '
I whispered 'Sit down, Bruno - '
Bruno said ' - for otherwise how could saboteurs and criminals be weeded out!'
Bruno sat down. After a time the lecturer said 'But there has been no failure in the five-year plan.'
Bruno said 'Are you saying that it is not Fascist revisioni
sm to deny that for criminals to be weeded out there shall be revolutionary self-criticism?' He glared round the room with his eyebrows raised. No one looked at him.
I thought - Bruno, I suppose this might be one way of getting out!
Bruno leaned back with his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes.
I thought - What about my arranging a meeting at the Adlon Hotel between Bruno and Franz and me - and you, my English boy?
One day Bruno and I went by bus and on foot to the cold and windy lake where, eight or nine years before, Bruno and Trixie and I had come to row and walk between trees and lie on pine-needles and play at making love. Here we had discovered some world of love; we had been like seeds, had germinated within ourselves something that seemed to have a life of its own. Bruno and I went to re-visit Kleist's grave: houses had been built in the area so that the tomb was now in a space between gardens; there were empty bottles and bits of cardboard within the fence around the grave. On the stone there was the message - 'He lived and sang and suffered in hard and sorrowful times: he sought death on this spot and found immortality.'
Bruno and I stood looking at the grave holding hands. I thought - We humans, yes, are like old bottles and cardboard containers; what do we contain; what is our immortality?
I said 'Kleist did not have to kill himself.'
Bruno said 'Perhaps he did not see the bits of himself that would go floating like messages in bottles on the sea.'
I said 'But they are so beautiful!'
Bruno said 'Don't cry.'
Bruno put his arms around me. He was a fragile, rather top-heavy figure with a huge head. I thought - Perhaps we are both like those creatures that are born before their time.
Bruno said 'Do you know the story of Josephus?'
I thought - Of course I know the story of Josephus! Then - I have forgotten it. Then - Stories, of course, are what are immortal.
Bruno and I walked around the lake. We had our arms round each other. He said -
'Josephus was a general in the Jewish army in AD 67. The Jews were fighting the Romans; Josephus found himself and his army besieged in a town called Jotapata. The situation was hopeless: Josephus wanted to surrender; he was told by the Romans that his life would be spared. But the other Jewish elders, with whom he was sheltering in a cellar, refused to consider this: they insisted that he, and they, should die, together with the rest of the townspeople, although Josephus told them that if they surrendered he could probably get some sort of terms for all of them. So it was arranged that those in the cellar should kill one another, drawing lots to see who should kill who, and then the last man should kill himself. But it seems that Josephus managed to fix the lots so that he and another man were the last two left alive, and then he and this man agreed to surrender to the Romans.'
Hopeful Monsters Page 27
