Nicholas Mosley - Hopeful Monsters

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 meaning. 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?