Nicholas Mosley - Hopeful Monsters

run to and be enfolded — Faust scuttling across the floor — Lieber-mann was wearing underneath his cloak a bulging tunic and a short skirt and stockings, so that he seemed almost to be a parody of a prostitute on the streets of Berlin. I thought — Well, yes, this is clever: one does not have to say what it means! But then when Faust and Mephistopheles were off on their journey to the seduction of the innocent Gretchen — which Faust had stipulated as a first step to his heart's desire — it did not seem that there was much that the actors could do in the way of suggesting complex patterns. I thought — Oh well, this is the same old stuff — the stuff that audiences love and that poets love to give them — the ordinary boring stuff about murder and self-mutilation and degradation and then death.

Gretchen is seduced; abandoned: oh what an occasion for beautiful performances! She finds herself pregnant; she goes mad and kills her child. In the condemned cell she is visited by her old lover, Faust. How purging, how satisfying it is, to watch her sweet madness: to weep with his, Faust's, so noble, so searing remorse! The audience was being caressed, pelted; it was being seduced or assaulted. I thought — So what does it matter who is the Nazi and who is the Jew? What we are witnessing is a demonstration of a universal curse; an indiscriminate love of miserableness.

When Gretchen had been redeemed by the voice of God on high and the audience stood and clapped, I put my head in my hands. I thought — Oh do not let us imagine that we are gods, if gods get pleasure from watching this sort of thing from on high! Then — Franz is right: it is better if we are involved in some universal catastrophe.

But Franz was standing up and clapping with the rest.

I thought — This stuff is imprisoned in our heads: we are ourselves the cage; we cannot get out.

On the way back to our camp, Franz and Bruno discussed the significance of Faust being played as a Nazi and Mephistopheles as a Jew: yes, indeed, good could come out of evil: had not Jews always known this? In the evening performance, it had been announced, the roles would be reversed: so that in the scenes from Part II, I wondered, might it be seen that on a higher and more mystical level it was the wicked but ultimately self-defeated Nazis who were goading the holy Jews on to ever more purified visions of their proper relationship to God — after all, this had always been God's purpose for them, no? Bruno and Franz were discussing

something like this as we walked up the hill. Minna and I did not talk much. I was trying to remember — In Part II it is the mystical vision of Helen of Troy that is conjured up for Faust in place of the mundane Gretchen: but even with Helen he does not call 'Stop!' What is it that in the end makes him (or is it only almost makes him?) call 'Stop!' to the whole damn rubbish that he loves to keep imprisoned in his head?

I thought — Helena, Eleanor: I would want to get it out; I would want you to call 'Stop!'

Back in our camp, Franz collected firewood and Bruno made the fire and Minna and I prepared food we had got earlier in the village. In the camp next door the two boys who spoke English seemed to have had a quarrel. The younger one, who was like a faun, had walked away and had come and sat with his back against a tree between his camp and ours. I thought — There is a painting like this: a girl is lying on the ground; there is a faun at her head: I have the impression that I should be part of this painting.

The other boy, who was like a large white dog, came and knelt by the boy who was like a faun. He said in English but with a German accent 'You are angry with me because of what I told you about your mother.'

The boy who had his back against the tree said 'I don't care a damn about you and my mother. What I am bored with is Faust. In fact I think you and my mother are quite like Faust.' Then he turned and looked at me.

I thought — Hullo, it is as if you remember me?

The boy said 'Oedipus is boring, Faust is boring, Mephistopheles is boring. And Nazis and Jews are boring. If we think them evil, we only encourage them. Nothing is going to change unless we think such things are boring.'

The boy who was like a dog said 'Come and have supper.'

The boy who was looking in my direction said 'Seen any good child-murders lately?'

The other boy said 'Be quiet, people will hear you.'

The boy who was looking at me said 'That is why I am speaking in English, lest people might understand and be saved.'

I thought I might say — I understand you.

The boy who was kneeling said 'You asked me to talk about your mother.'

The boy who was like a faun said 'What would be interesting would be a play about the people who are sitting and watching and

loving that sort of stuff. Then at the end they could go off, yes, happy, and blow themselves up.'

I thought I might say — But it would still be boring to have to watch them blowing themselves up.

Then you said to me 'Do you understand English?'

I said'Yes.'

After a time the boy who was like a dog stood up and went back to his /ire.

You were sitting with your back against that tree. There were millions of pine-needles on the ground like forks in pathways. I thought — We can pick them up; move them this way or that. After a time you looked away.

I said 'But it would still be boring to have to watch them blowing themselves up.'

You said'Yes.'

I said 'So what would you do?'

You said 'Something quite different, I suppose.'

You were staring in front of you as if you were expecting to be shot with your back against the tree.

I said 'What?'

You said 'I've thought it would be something to do with just what turns up.'

I said 'I've thought it would be to do with what you're talking about and what is happening, happening at the same time.'

You said 'But there would have to be some sort of code.'

I said 'Why?'

You said 'Because otherwise it would go away.'

I said 'But if you knew the code, you would know the message.'

You said 'We should know the message. We don't have a code.'

People from our two camps were calling us to come to supper. They were saying that there were only a few minutes before we would have to leave for the performance of the second part of the play.

I said 'Do you want to see the second part of FaustV

You said 'No.' Then — 'I think that what is happening now and what we are talking about is the same.'

I thought — Also there is indeed this that has turned up: we are sitting beneath these trees.

I said 'What is your name?'

You said 'Max.' Then — 'What is yours?'

I said 'Eleanor.'

You said 'Helena?'

I said 'Eleanor.'

You said 'This is absurd.'

The others were saying that they were setting off to see the play: we could join them later if we liked.

We seemed to sit for a long time in silence beneath our trees.

I said 'You mean, there is some pattern in what turns up?'

You said 'I have thought sometimes that it would be like being in the inside of a painting.'

I said 'Yes, this is absurd.'

You said 'Why?'

I said 'Because I have thought that it would be like — ' Then — 'But I suppose if I say it, it will go away.'

You said 'I see.'

It was as if we were on some plane that might at any moment tip over: if I moved towards you, you might go away; if you moved towards me, I might fall.

I said 'How old are you?'

You said 'Nearly eighteen.'

'I'm nineteen.'

'You are at a university?'

'Freiburg.'

'I am going to Cambridge next year.'

'What are you studying?'

'Biology or physics.'

'I am studying medicine.'

You said 'You see, this is almost unbearable, unless there is a code.'