Nicholas Mosley - Hopeful Monsters

had not seen you for three or four years. You were talking to a Brownshirt.

I thought — Well dear God, on what strange planet have we landed!

The Brownshirt you were talking to was holding a card or document; you were leaning by his shoulder and pointing to it; there was an intensity about this scene, as if you were figures in a painting. I thought — The document is your passport? Then you looked up and saw me. Or it was as if you had already seen me: you looked so pleased. You waved. The Brownshirt looked up from the document he was holding; then he beckoned to the Brownshirt who was with me on my side of the road. This Brownshirt took hold of me by the arm and said 'Wait.' There were cars coming along Unter den Linden. I thought — You arrange things like this on this strange planet? When there was a gap in the traffic the Brownshirt gave me a push and I began running. I thought — So after all, you mean, one or two get through? I ran to the space where there were trees in the middle of the road. Then — But these things are in the mind: they are in the outside world too? When I got to where you were standing you took me in your arms. I thought — Ah well, this is like a painting. Then you said 'He found you!' I thought I might say — Who found me? You talk about yourself like this on this strange planet? Or about God? The Brownshirt who was beside you was giving you back the document he had been holding; it was your passport; he smiled and saluted. I thought — Oh but you are not all homosexuals on this planet! You seemed so much more confident and grown-up; you had your hair in a fringe like a Roman Emperor. I said 'Who found me?' You said 'Your father.' I thought I might say — My father? Then — This is some code for the sake of the Brownshirts on this planet? We began walking across the far side of the road towards the Adlon Hotel. You had your arm around me. I said 'But what are you doing here?' You stopped and held me at arm's length and stared at me. I thought — All right, all right, you know I do love you! You said 'Didn't you get my letter?' I said 'No.' Then — 'What letter?' You said 'The letter that told you I would be here: I sent it to the address given me by Franz.' You took me by the arm and we went on towards the entrance to the Adlon Hotel. We pushed our way through the crowd, who were watching the bonfire. You did not seem to be interested in the fire. I thought — But if you sent a letter to the Rosa Luxemburg Block, yes, they might have taken it and opened it.

Then you said again 'You haven't seen your father? So how did you know we'd be here?' You said this quietly as if it were something not really to be heard, let alone answered. I wanted to say — But I didn't know you would be here! We went on and up the steps and into the Adlon Hotel. I said 'But what is this about my father? He is in Heidelberg.' You said 'No, he came to get you.' There was a crowd in the hallway of the Adlon Hotel: they were standing with bright smiles and talking excitedly about the bonfire. I thought — But you, haven't you come to get me? You were standing on tiptoe looking round the lounge of the hotel. Then we sat down at a table. You held my hand; you gazed at me. I thought — Well, why didn't you come before? You said 'You didn't get my letter and you didn't get your father's letter.' I said 'No.' You didn't even say this time — Then how on earth are you here?' I thought I might say — But I have always been coming here: with my father, with Franz: it is you who need the explanation. We were sitting facing each other in the hotel with our knees almost touching; there were the things like the bonfire going on elsewhere: I thought — But it is we ourselves who are the enormous events! You said 'I've been in touch with Franz: I think he got in touch with your father.' I said 'Have you seen my father?' You said 'Yes.' I thought — What things go on on this strange planet! I said 'I think the people with whom I have been living must have been intercepting my letters.' You said 'You've got to get out.' I thought I might say — Yes, I've got to get out. I said 'My mother has been arrested.' You said 'I see.' You were looking round the lounge of the hotel as if you might tell the future from bits of bone and entrails. The lounge of the hotel was like a railway station. Then I saw Franz coming towards us through the lounge. Franz was wearing his grey suit with the swastika badge in the buttonhole. He came up to us and said 'Oh you've found her.' You said 'Yes, we've found her.' Franz said to me 'Why weren't you here?' You said 'She never got our letters.' Franz said 'I see.' He didn't even bother to say — Then how did she know we were here? He looked away across the hallway. I thought I might say — You mean, you and Franz and my father have all come to rescue me? You said 'Hurry; we must hurry.' I said 'But where is my father?' Franz had sat down at our table; we three were facing each other; it was as if the events were unimportant elsewhere. Franz said 'He went to look for you at the Rosa Luxemburg Block.' I said 'Is he coming back here?' Franz said 'Yes.' Then I said 'But we can't leave my mother.' You said 'Her mother has been arrested.'

There was a clatter and a roar from the crowd outside: I thought — Perhaps the roof of the Reichstag has fallen in: perhaps Hitler has turned up and has at last managed to get himself put on a bonfire. Franz said 'Yes, they're rounding up the Communists. You've got to get out.' I said 'Where do you think one can get out to?' You said 'Switzerland.' I said 'Switzerland!' I thought — This is ridiculous. Franz said 'I understand your father has relations in Switzerland.' I thought — But this is not possible; it is happening too quickly. We were sitting round the table in the lounge of the Adlon Hotel. Franz was looking towards the side entrance to the hotel which led out into Wilhelmstrasse. There was a group of high-up Nazis by the door who were talking and looking towards us across the lounge. I thought — But what are we waiting for: my father? Then — Things do not seem to get filtered, on this strange planet. I said 'How are we going to get to Switzerland?' You said 'I'm taking you.' I imagined that you were talking about me and my father. I thought — That is extraordinarily kind! I said 'But what about my mother.' You said 'Franz can try to find out about your mother.' I thought — But could we be together, for a time, you and I, in Switzerland? I said 'But we can't go without my mother.' Franz said to you 'You didn't tell her about Bruno?' You said nothing. There was a noise from loudspeakers out in Pariser Platz; it was the sound of a voice hugely amplified; it was like someone being sick, like someone's insides being torn out. I said 'What about Bruno?' I was thinking — I am indeed like those Jews, with Josephus, in that town called Jotapata; but I do not want to be trapped in a cellar of the mind. The loudspeakers in the square outside seemed to be saying that the Reichstag had been set on fire by the Communists, the enemies of the state; they would be weeded out and ruthlessly punished. I thought — Oh but why couldn't those people in Jotapata get out; they had guilt about their mothers? You stood up. You said again 'We must go.' I thought — Dear God, will I really have to act. We can't go! Franz said 'Your father had a letter from your mother about Bruno.' I said 'My father had a letter from my mother about Bruno?' I thought — Now listen! I must listen! You sat down. You looked round the lounge. I thought — But you will promise, won't you, to get me out? I said 'What did my mother say about Bruno?' Franz said 'She said she thought that Bruno wasn't suitable for you and she hoped that what she had done was right.' I said 'Why, what has she done?' I thought — You mean, she did betray Bruno? The loudspeakers were going on and on in the Pariser Platz: I thought — Oh for God's sake, why does not whoever