Ingo Schulze - New Lives

“No,” Bernadette whispered, laying a hand on his shoulder. She picked up the plates and vanished into the kitchen, from where, just as in the theater, a wedge of bright light first struck the table and then went out again. Rudolf Böhme told about the scene where two old men — the blind seer, Teiresias, and Cadmus, the founder of the city, declare their intention to visit the mountains to worship Dionysus. He compared them to two retirees on their way to a disco.

Titus concentrated on his right shoulder, on the spot where Bernadette’s hand had touched it. He would rather have helped Bernadette tidy up than have to listen to Rudolf Böhme. Titus could well understand why Pentheus would make fun of Teiresias and Cadmus.

He didn’t start paying attention again until her mother declared, “Dionysus afflicts women with mania, and Pentheus wants to lock them up behind bolted doors. We should keep that in mind.”

“We should keep that in mind,” Rudolf Böhme agreed, and remarked on the fine differentiation that Teiresias makes between kratos, external force, and dynamis, energy and power as an inherent quality.

As he spoke Rudolf Böhme stared at the table. When he did raise his head, his eyes were closed. It was only from close up like this that you could see all the wrinkles that started at the corners of his eyes and spread down like a delicate mesh over his cheeks.

Just as when his mother used to tell him stories, Titus could see it all before him now too. The castle of Pentheus looked like Holy Cross School, Pentheus was a kind of principal or teacher, and Dionysus, or so Rudolf Böhme had claimed, was a hippie, a lady’s man, an artist.

“The cult of Dionysus,” Rudolf Böhme said, “isn’t something that you can simply be told about, you have to become part of it, join in its rituals and abide by its rules — as with any religious faith.”

Titus saw Dionysus being locked in the cellar coal bin, there is an earthquake, and the school building collapses. But Dionysus walks out into the courtyard unscathed and boasts of how he has driven Pentheus mad. In the same moment Pentheus comes running up — was it Petersen? Was it the principal? Everything has turned out just as Dionysus predicted. But Petersen doesn’t want to hear any of it. He orders the school gate closed and bolted, as if he hadn’t already learned how useless such commands are. Joachim points that out to him, but Petersen has had enough of this schoolboy who always wants to have the last word. “Sophos, sophos sy!” he shouts. “Wise, wise you are, only never where you should be wise!”

“He’s hard of hearing, as my grandpa would put it,” Joachim said.

“We can understand Pentheus, and yet we don’t understand him either,” Rudolf Böhme continued. “Everything he has learned in life so far, all his previous experiences, contradict what he is now going through. We shouldn’t expect that, just like that, he can put aside the spectacles through which he has seen the world all his life. On the other hand, it’s amazing how blind he is to the changed situation.”

In that instant the wedge of light fell on the table again. Bernadette entered with two small bowls and set them on the table. Titus got up and went to the kitchen, following the fragrance of apples and vanilla, picked up two more bowls, and carried them out. Bernadette smiled, her lips moved as if she were about to say something. They passed close by each other twice more. When they were seated at the table again, Bernadette looked at him. Looks are all we need to read someone’s mind, Titus thought, and waited for Bernadette to pick up her spoon and start eating — baked apples with vanilla sauce.

“This is marvelous,” Rudolf Böhme said, pursing his lips and waving his spoon in the air as if trying to crack an egg. Titus didn’t join in the general praise, that seemed silly somehow. Bernadette was silent as well. But it was a cheerful silence that cast even tragedy in its bright light.

“Where’s Stefan?” Rudolf Böhme asked as he scraped at what was left in his bowl. Martin evidently hadn’t heard the question. He was very intent on his dessert, Titus noted. He had to smile and wanted to let Bernadette see his smile, but at the same moment she remarked, “I’ll go check,” and looked right past Titus, who was now at a loss where to direct his smile. He shoveled it away, shoveled it full of pieces of apple as if filling a grave with dirt and didn’t look up as Bernadette left.

“Her friend is being inducted the day after tomorrow,” Rudolf Böhme whispered. “A little like the end of the world for both of them.”

When Titus felt Bernadette’s mother’s hand on his shoulder, he could have broken into sobs. Without turning his head, he gave her the empty bowl, but his voice failed him for even a simple “thank you.”

“Would anyone like a cup of tea ?” Bernadette’s mother asked, setting the pewter bowl of rock sugar directly in front of Titus.

“Let me quickly bring this to an end,” Rudolf Böhme declared, “or are there seconds?”

He told about a shepherd who had been spying on the women in the mountains. But what he has to report — scenes of perfect harmony between man and nature — is not to Pentheus’ liking…

Titus could see Stefan in his mind’s eye, with his buzzed haircut and a steel helmet on his head. Titus tried to recall the loyalty oath Joachim had written out for him weeks before. He let this Stefan recite the oath, while Bernadette was forced to listen. I swear, Stefan said, faithfully and at all times to serve my fatherland, the German Democratic Republic, and when so ordered by a government of workers and peasants, to protect it against every enemy. I swear I will be prepared at any time to defend Socialism against all enemies and to lay down my life for its victorious cause. Should I ever…may I be subjected to the strict punishment of the law…and the contempt of all working people.

“The women hurl themselves at the animals, ripping sheep and cows to pieces with their bare hands, tearing them limb from limb as blood spurts and hunks of flesh dangle among the branches, as bones and hooves fly through the air…”

Titus enjoyed listening to this part. He didn’t wince. Rudolf Böhme didn’t have to show him any special consideration.

Joachim said that it had been violence that evoked the women’s violence.

“Yes, of course, Pentheus hears only what he wants to hear. Besides — and he offers this as his reason — there is nothing worse than defeat at the hands of women, a disgrace to which Greece cannot be subjected. Suddenly it’s no longer about Thebes but about Greece. One must admit that Nietzsche — and those who agree with him — is right in saying that Pentheus does not cut a very good figure here. On the other hand, his reaction is perfectly normal for a ruler. In any case, Dionysus, offended by such stubbornness, warns him yet again not to take up arms against a god.”

“Dionysus shows patience,” Joachim said.

Titus was disappointed the carnage was over already. Because that’s what war was like, horrible, cruel beyond words, and this Stefan would be in the thick of it — he had sworn an oath that he would. And instead of listening to Rudolf Böhme, who was now talking about the tragedy’s peripeteia, he watched as Bernadette, disgusted by such mealy-mouthed cowardice and blind submission, turned away from her uniformed boyfriend at last.

“Pentheus translates everything he hears into his own language. And because he believes he never receives the right answer to his questions — never realizing he is asking the wrong questions — he will perish. Or to put it succinctly: because he is not willing or able to question himself, he will meet a gruesome end,” Rudolf Böhme said. And Titus would have loved to shout: Because he’s a coward! Because he doesn’t understand what he’s doing! Because he doesn’t deserve Bernadette!