B007P4V3G4 EBOK (23 page)

3

Shivering with emotion I wrote back at once, though I kept a firm
grip on my handwriting of strong, stark, fine shapes.

'Great Lord and Friend, indeed I have not often enough
thought strongly and purposefully of thee. Forgive me this for
the sake of your affection for me. Yes, happily I am still in
Amsterdam and I shall leave for Paris by the night train. How
happy I am that you believe me to be the most steadfast of
your friends. I will not renounce you. And may I not think
lightly of the enemy? Do you believe this to be the beginning
of my defeat? On the contrary, I have felt myself grow stronger the more purely I have contempt for the people who, after all,
are my natural enemies.

Good Sire, you ask after my situation in Holland? I live, and
this, to these countrymen who do not live, is sufficient to make
things awkward for me. Yes, it is said here 'live and let live'
though to them it means 'make much money and give another a
little, too'. Moreover, most people here are addicted to religion,
alcohol and marxism, to such an extent that one does not get to
hear an artful word. On the other hand, these people have some
national virtues, too. They are fittingly gullible and docile, so that
anyone can be the leader of a political party, and thus everyone is.
A favourite proverb is 'where one sheep goes, more will follow'
and after genever, the Good Shepherd is the one most worshipped
here. Indeed, there are regions where strong drink comes after the
Shepherd as regards esteem. Thus, it is still bearable over here.

From the money you gifted me I bought a diamond of pure
kind.

Until tomorrow. Be convinced of my steadfast affection.

4

While writing this, I thought: now I'll try to think of him so
strongly that he can feel this and then he will know that I will
remain true to him in the face of all. Fearful of loss, I brought my
missive to the post myself. Afterwards, I did not enter our
spacious garden again, the bordered lawn full of ruddy roses
dripping dark, like blood, into the green. Loosely attired, lying on
my back on my bed, I, overwrought, thought of the Devil. As
though I were leaving my dwelling, ready for travel ... passed
along some streets ... Oh, and crossed the shade-splendid canals
... the station ... the railwayline through Holland and Brabant ...
other countries ... Paris ... the Bradford Hotel, familiar to me -
thus I considered, loyal and attentively, the paths of travel that
separated us. My head was being tired out to a point beyond
thought ... it tingled behind my eyes, soft and pleasantly ... my
body felt engulfed in black ... without communion with the
outside world. My last known thought was: would he now feel
that I thought of him sufficiently?

5

That next day, it rained over the wide city of Paris, dust-fine rain
from a low sky without sun. Afraid of hostile influences, I had
arrived at the hotel, trembling with fear. I kept my thoughts
trained exactly on the Devil in order to be faithful to him, no
matter what. Sharp-shy, erring in some of my words, I asked for
the Viscount of Chelsea.

'Are you from Holland?' the doorman said, quietly distinguished.

'Yes ... yes ... I'm expected:

The man had a boy come along to show me the way; I was
so unsteady in my gait that this quick child kept an eye on me.
My face was stretched to its deepest grain, it grimaced with
snarkling pain. The boy-child looked at me and I thought: what
a beauty that boy is. Oh, startled immediately afterwards, the
way I was, I chased that thought away and I thought solely of
Him.

The Devil was sitting in the chamber writing thoughtful scriptures, for he did not look up at me. I said: 'Sire .. ' He shivered ...
He approached me, and he did not touch me.

What's the matter ... is something wrong? I came at once, did I
not?'

He was dull in his eyes.

'I am going into town, my child ... no, we say nothing to one
another now ... then I would influence you unfairly ... I've
received your letter ... thank you ... and I have felt, too, that you
did think of me, yesterday ... do not leave me.'

'Must I wait here?'

'Oh, no ... next door ... this one ... think as strongly as possible
of me and do not succumb ... you know the enemy, indeed you do.'

6

I did not dare enter the other chamber, but later I did, thinking
urgent-strongly of the Devil. Having entered, I saw the hostile
man. It was Jesus-Christ, whom I knew at once. He sat, dressed
agile in white, in front of an oak lectern. A broad book lay upon it,
open, its pages white-pale without lettering. He had read in it by
means of strenuous attention. Attentive were his dark-purposed eyes when he looked up at me. 'Baruch haba', he said. Thoughtless,
without knowledge or resistance, I left Soton's fealty.

Jesus had me sit opposite him and I became full of love and
reverence, free from thoughts of the Devil. He spoke for my
benefit and his conversation was like rippling spring water, simple
in its insight, and strong. This I so enjoyed, and new verses
trembled on my soul in the metre and manner of the old, splendid
sonnets through which, in the past, I had sung of his love and
suffering. While speaking, he moved his hands, all simplicity; in the
main they lay for all to see on the arms of his chair. I saw that they
were white without blemish, free from red punctures, like the
letterless pages of the book in which he had been reading attentively. Reverently, I asked after the kind and value of that book.
Lovingly, he put his hand on it: 'It's such an extraordinary
you think the pages only white? When you learn to read it with
great attention then you will discover and the better
you yourself become, the better you read the things in the book.'

'Might I learn to read in would You teach me7'

'I cannot teach you ... you must do that yourself ... you must
have patience and love.'

The tone of his voice turned asper, hostile: 'There is also a red
book, without letters like this white one ... it is in the possession
of someone who wishes to deceive you ... and I tell you this,
once you have begun to learn to read that red book, then this
white one is lost to you ... eternally.'

Then, sharply shocked, I thought of Soton whom I had abandoned so.

7

I felt that, present in the wide city of Paris, with me, in this room,
he had continued in communion with me, and his suffering over
my easy faithlessness touched me sorely. It had happened as, in his
pain and knowledge of the world, he had predicted. I had abandoned his tenets for the easy persuasions of his enemy. His enemy,
who spoke so unremarkably of humility and love of mankind. Oh,
and Soton had so appreciated it in me that mine was a rockhard
pride, without any sign of humiliating meekness, while I had never
loved anyone to my own disadvantage. And wilfully I resisted the
pernicious influences of Jesus. He had now taken the white book and, his attention strong, he read aloud from the clean, letterfree pages. But I did not listen to him any longer. On, and
on, I thought of the Devil, hopefully so strongly that he could feel
it.

The reading voice that I felt to be hateful, became remote, lost,
heard. Behind my eyes it tingled pleasantly and soft. My body felt
black, without communion with the outside world and I desired so
much that the Devil might feel my regained loyalty. While I hated
the humane Jesus.

8

He stopped reading, and this I heard, likewise that he said:

'You have not listened...'

'No ... indeed I haven't ...'

'You have thought of Soton ... he is your doom...'

'Shameful enough that I have forgotten him for a single instant
because of your unremarkable philanthropy.'

'I have suffered so much abuse for the sake of mankind, as you
know ... and I have forgiven everything...'

'Because it's your nature and your profession ... yes, indeed.'

I forgive you these words of contempt ... like I forgive
everything ... of all things, love is the best ... I had wished to
lead you to that understanding ... you are so sorely lost ...
roaming, quite errant through selfishness and lovelessness ... and
you do not wish to return to the right path...'

'Don't reproach me with being loveless and selfish ... with as
much reason I might reproach You with being humane and loving,
those are two characteristics antipathetic to me.'

'You are so far from the straight and narrow ...'

'It is so immoral of You to try to influence me ... don't You
know that ... why do You wish to push me down a path that is
not do You still not know that for everyone his own path
is the right at Your age one either knows or one never
will .. '

I see that I cannot help you ... in a moment Soton returns and
then I will go ... I suffer so because of your do not
think that I only suffered on the daily, I suffer for the
suffering of every human being, and for everyone's erring ... just
look.'

9

From his white-folded clothes he showed me his hands and they
now contained heavy-burgeoning red, bleeding stigmata. Recoiling
from him, horror struck, all shock, I saw them.

The torpid, tepid blood dripped down broadly. He said: 'Because
I suffer intensely. for your errant badness, my painful wounds of
the cross have bled open again ... and never will they close for
ever until no man errs and suffers.'

I looked behind me, believing I heard the sound of Soton's finesweet laugh, but he was not yet back in the chamber. I, calm with
shock, said cruelly to the bleeding one: 'Show your splendid
wounds of the cross to whomever you wish ... but do not
demand belief from me, belief that you have suffered on the cross.
You enjoyed it so, a fine, nervous enjoyment ... don't you know
that torment is the finest pleasure? Don't you know that?'

'That is my fiercest suffering ... such blind erring ... there is no
remedy for it ... my hands bleed for it.'

'That, too, gives you joyous pain ... and the nuns who in white
cloisters kneel around those red images of you, they enjoy it in
their own way ... don't you know anything then, about the
connection between love and cruelty ... and between religion and
cruelty?'

'I only know the suffering of mankind ... and I suffer because of
it.'

'Then Soton was right after all, that yours is a charming
mediocrity ... and that because of this so many people venerate
you.'

He did not answer this discourse and I lashed him further with
my mock-making words: 'And the poets who sing of your socalled suffering: do you think that they feel anything other than
pleasure at your finely-coloured death? I know one ... in Amsterdam ... he has made many very admiring verses about you ...
and he has the walls in his dwelling hung full with images of you
... this gives his body sufficient sating. And I assure you that in
this manner you are being used by quite a few more people ...
this is apparently not in conflict with any of the three vows ..