God's Own Singer Of Songs Goes Home

God’s Own Singer Of Songs

Goes Home

by

R.E. Prindle

 

When Earth’s last picture is painted

And the tubes are twisted and dried,

When the oldest colours have faded,

And the youngest critic has died,

We shall rest, and faith, we shall need it

-Lie down for an aeon or two,

Till the Master of all Good Workmen

Shall put us to work anew.

And those that were good shall be happy;

They shall sit in a golden chair;

They shall splash at a ten league canvas

With brushes of comet’s hair.

They shall find real saints to draw from

-Magdalene, Peter and Paul;

They shall work for an age at a sitting

And never be tired at all!

And only the Master shall praise us,

And only the Master shall blame;

And no one shall work for money,

And no one shall work for fame.

But each for the joy of the working

And each in his separate star

Shall draw the Thing as he sees it

For the God of Things as they are.

R. Kipling

 

I was on my hands and knees with the paper opened out before me on the floor when I came across a startling news item.  Darius Trued had committed suicide.  It was July 24, 1949.  I remember the date clearly.  The news blip said he had blown his head off with his step-father’s shotgun.  I was speechless. How could somebody I knew commit suicide?   By coincidence we had met in the public library just two weeks before where he told me his story since leaving the Orphanage.

If you remember, Darius was the little boy who had nearly hemorrhaged to death after his tonsil operation.  I didn’t mention it then but as a result of ‘having saved his life’ Darius felt an obligation to me and we had to become friends.

He was something over two years younger than me, he was only nine when he tubed it, and so for the first part of my sojourn in the Orphanage he’d been down in the infant’s quarters.  This was a very terrible pace; I have no idea what effect it had on his plastic young mind.  God only knows what horrors were impressed on him down there.  The horrors of the Orphanage were not the sort that you would find that obvious.  The place wasn’t exactly like the death camps of Auschwitz or Dachau, there wasn’t killing and beating going on.  It was more subtle than that but the effect was the same, if you came out, you came out with a different view of humanity.  If you had been given a tour you would probably have said:  This is really OK…for them.  But not for you.

But we were young and impressionable, we needed positive reinforcement.  We needed something to bolster our self-respect.  As bad as it was up above in the older boy’s dorm it was a lot worse in the infant’s quarters.  I would never go in there so I don’t know how many kids there were, I imagine thirty from the sound of their continual yowling and screaming.  There were only two or three women to deal with those thirty infants.   They were all demanding attention every minute of the time.  It’s not that the women were not of the kindest disposition, it’s not that they didn’t try, but you can only spread one woman so thin.  It was impossible to give each child the attention they needed so they just lay around and screamed.  Once one got started they all began in sympathy.  The cacophony was horrendous and very emotionally disturbing.

After a year of that they sent Darius upstairs with us Big Boys.  I must have been nine at the time so Darius was maybe seven, probably sixish.  Downstairs they had told Darius that I had saved his life so when he came upstairs the first person he wanted to meet was me.

When a new boy came in it was quite a thing so we were all gathered around to evaluate this new kid.  The difference of two years between seven and nine is immense.  The housemother came leading this little kid up to me by the hand.  He had this big happy grin on his face like I don’t know what he expected.  Maybe he was just happy to get out of the infant’s quarters.  Maybe he thought I was going to be his big brother, I don’t know, I didn’t even care.

I do know that I didn’t need any little kid hanging on me all the time.  I was alone and had withdrawn pretty far into myself.  I didn’t want to come out for anybody.  I was no longer looking for the ‘human’ touch;  I’d had enough of that.  I was trying to avoid it.

The woman led this little guy right up to me and introduces me as the guy who saved his life.  Give me a break!  All I did was open the door to the infirmary, look at all the blood spattered on the walls and went and got help.  That wasn’t as easy as it sounds either; it was hard to get their attention.  And then they made fun of me like I was always inventing things.  I had to endure that humiliation for the little bastard.  So now I was saddled with him.

You know…you know…all I knew up to this point were heart-rending stories of tragic situations.  Darius’ story wasn’t any exception.  I was too young to understand then but I knew something funny was going on.  It all came together in later years.  You see, the reason that Darius was in the Orphanage was because his mother was a prostitute.  She put him in the Orphanage so he would be out of the way.

She hadn’t come around all the time Darius was in the infant’s quarters but she began popping in every couple weeks or so after he came upstairs.  She always gave Darius a couple bucks so that between that which Darius was only too willing to share with the guy who ‘saved his life’ and this pop bottle money and whatever else I was able to scrounge we were the financial elite of the Orphanage.

You can feel the guilt building up, can’t you.  I took from him and I didn’t quibble.

Now, Darius had a couple problems.  He had some sort of skin ailment where his whole left arm from just above the elbow to his finger tips was crusted and thick kind of like sandpaper.  I don’t know what it was and it wasn’t his fault.  Everyone accused him of being unclean and not washing but that wasn’t true.  They all ridiculed him and it was very hard on the kid.  What can I say, everyone made fun of me too, everyone made fun of everyone else.  I made fun of everyone in self-defense.

I was no slouch at giving insults either.  It wasn’t just the Orphanage either; everyone in society is busy tearing the other guy down.  I’m afraid I wasn’t very sympathetic which hurt Darius a lot but I had saved his life so he thought we were pals for life.

There wasn’t anyone in the Orphanage that could be called a happy soul.  You already know my story there.  I was one of the gang.  We were all pretty dark but I wasn’t mean and nasty and neither was Darius.  Darius expressed his distraction by composing little songs.  He had a very sweet voice and could hit and sustain notes, stay in key, carry a tune and all those musical things.  I’ve never been able to do those things, as much as I’ve wanted to.  That was the only time I’ve ever known envy in my life.

I’m not going to try to reproduce any of his songs although I do remember lines of two or three but they wouldn’t make any sense now and without his plaintive sorrowful voice and despairing gestures the effect wouldn’t be the same.  They were all sad songs anyway.  The kid could improvise for hours.  I don’t know how anybody with such a small vocabulary could express so much in so many different ways.

So, alright, so the kid is God’s own singer of songs and I wasn’t.  So, what do I care.  On top of my own problems his songs might as well have been hosing me down with acid.  How much pain can anyone bear?  Fortunately this only lasts for a year before I leave and coincidentally so does he.  I went to the Wardens but his mother remarries some monster of a prick, as Darius told me, and takes him out of the Orphanage.

Before she does however she took Darius to this place where she lived and Darius insists that I go along.  Why me?  What did I ever do to anybody?  Saving lives is perilous work, I would have thought twice if I’d known what was going to happen.  The place his mother stays is not exactly a whore house.  The place was merely the house out of which the women worked.  I know what was going on there although I was too young to understand the implications then.  It is only much later that I am able to reconstruct it and make sense of it.  How much Darius understood of it I can’t say although he never discussed the visit or his mother with me again.

I only learned the nature of the place by accident.  As it happened one of these women took a shine to me.  She was a real beauty too.  She must have been a real sensualist who wanted to induct a young boy like me into the mysteries.  She had this beautiful room just filled with this enormous bed.  Her colors were blue and white, everything in a becoming disarray; there were mountains of comforters, sheets and pillows.  I was thoroughly enthralled.  She could have done anything to me she wanted and I wouldn’t have been afraid.

She was leading me into this paradise when Darius’ mom spotted us.  She hurried over and broke it up; acted real sanctimonious about it too.  Too bad for me; I’m sure I would have been given a new slant on life that I would surely have appreciated.  It might even have made a different man of me, so to speak.

Well, the madam, or house-mother, took the woman and Darius’ mom aside in my hearing admonished them.  She told them that under no circumstances were men to be allowed in the house.  For her thing to work, she said, there had to be an absolute appearance of propriety.  The girls would have to have their ‘dates’ pick them up at the door and then do their business elsewhere.

The two women objected that Darius and I were only little boys but the Madam interjected that boys grew into men and no boys or men were allowed.  Darius and I were not to be brought back.  Darius’ mom wasn’t ready to leave so were sent out in the back yard to play.

You can be sure that the neighbors had a pretty good idea of what was going on so Darius and I were given the cold shoulder, anybody who was outside their house went in.  I had had enough of rejection so I was only irritated the more.  I took it out on Darius.  I could say I wasn’t aware of what I was doing but if I did you would have little reason to believe me as I would you.  Of course, we all know what we are doing but it’s not exactly like we willed it.  It’s more like we just hoped that it would happen.

We were playing catch.  I could hear this ferocious sounding German Shepherd in the yard behind Darius.  I managed to throw the ball over the hedge into the nextdoor yard.  Naturally it was Darius’ responsibility  to retrieve it.  He came back with wide open eyes to tell me that a giant ferocious German Shepherd was standing over the ball.  Well, this Alsatian was not a meek dog.  But just as everybody in the Orphanage was suffering from more hurt than they needed or deserved, the addition to Darius’ store of pain was perilously close to the top.  I mean how much more could any of us stand, not that we stopped inflicting it on each other.

Then I really did it to Darius.  I betrayed his trust in an unforgiveable way.  You know, really, the unkindest cuts of all are those that don’t look like much to anybody else.  You’ve got to remember that we all lived in the House of the Distraught, fourth floor.

I had a high school teacher who used to put these maxims on the blackboard.  One of them was:  When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.  That guy was a homosexual so you know he knew what he was talking about.  Well, I was kind of Darius’ knot; I was all there was between his holding on and his losing his grip.  So when I failed him he fell.

No big deal really.  I mean I lost the end of my rope too.  The irony is that there is no place to fall.  You just end up standing on your feet but living in a different reality that is inhabited by the same people but who look like other people.  Who needs ‘em anyway?  But then my reaction may not have the same as Darius’.

Darius and I went out and bought a goldfish and a bowl, his money.  Cost a quarter each.  We kept them on top of the bookcases down in the library where no one ever went but me, and now Darius.  That way nobody would kill the goldfish.

Just as Darius wanted to be my friend more than I wanted to be his I wanted to be friends with the Darwan’s son Skippy more than he wanted to be friends with me.  As he was the son of the Orphanage administrator everyone else avoided him and his brother Cappy.  The Darwens had no use for me so I was actually toadying up.  I could only expect from them what happened.

When you’re at the bottom you, or at least me, will do anything to acquire some respectability.  Once again I knew what I was doing but as, on the same level that love is blind, I didn’t care.

I tried to hang around with the younger Darwen, Skippy, who was my age or maybe a year older.  He took advantage of me but thought it was his due for tolerating me.  He was a sadistic little bastard.  He used to catch frogs then lay in his bed with one of those spring guns that shot suction cups and try to blow the frogs up.  This was a really low point in my life.  I used to retrieve the suction darts for him so he could try again.  That was a long time ago and I only did it once, maybe twice.  I stopped trying to hang around with him after that.

What caused this incident with Darius was that there was this movie about this wonder horse who, as this movie made you believe, single hoofedly defeated the Japs on some tropical South Pacific island.  I either wanted to go or was made to believe I wanted to go.  Skippy and Cappy were biking it down and I was allowed to go with them.  Most expensive trip I’ve ever taken.

That I was allowed to go along with them indicates that some sadistic dirty trick was involved.  That I went with them knowing that dirty tricks against we orphans was their stock in trade show my level of desperation.  I knew better.  All I can say in my defense is that I was trusting to my luck.  My luck wasn’t trustworthy.

They had bikes and I didn’t.  I was at an immediate disadvantage.  To begin with Skippy suggested I hold onto the back of his seat and trot along beside him.  Even I recognized the humiliation of that.  Being of a resourceful turn of mind I suggested I ride on his back fender.  Skippy vetoed that but suggested I ride on the crossbar.  I thought that it would be possible that others could confuse me for his little brother; I declined so I could avoid humiliation.  Riding the crossbar is a painful thing, especially when Skippy was taking every bump as hard as he could.

I soon objected to that.

Then Skippy suggested I could sit on the handlebars and rest my feet on the lugnuts of the front wheel.  This was much more easy in the planning than the execution.  The nuts were only about a quarter inch wide so no firm purchase was possible.  As my feet continually slipped off as I tried to balance on the bars it was inevitable that my heel got caught in the spokes.  I tore the heel off my shoe, breaking four spokes of Skippy’s wheel.

We were downtown, two blocks from the Temple theater when it happened.  Skippy wobbled the bars, my feet came loose and I broke three or four spokes and well as taking the heel off my shoe.  Skippy was mock irate and said I would have to pay for the damage.  He calculated the damage to his bike and said I owed him five dollars.  Five dollars was a lot of bottles at two cents each.  While a dollar bought a lot in kid terms, five dollars was equivalent to the national debt.  I had to tell him that I didn’t have five dollars and didn’t know where I could get it.  He said I could owe it to him.

But, when we got to the Temple he took my seventy-five cents admission saying that I now owed him only four twenty-five.  I had to walk back to the Orphanage alone crying in my heart over the impossible figure of four twenty-five.

Well,  Skippy hounded me for the money every day.  Darius was mad at me over the German Shepherd so he wouldn’t loan me any money at all.  It’s slow work accumulating bottle money when you need a lot.  Skippy suggested that I could offset the debt with some of my meager possessions.  Needless to say he took them at less than ten cents on the dollar.  So I was down to some few cents left to pay.  Under Skippy’s constant hectoring I was desperate to pay him off.  I had already given him my gold fish and bowl when in desperation I thought of Darius’ gold fish and bowl to discharge my so-called debt.

And then I didn’t have the guts to just come right out and tell Darius what I had done.  I let him discover it.  I didn’t think a twenty-five cent gold fish was too high a price for saving a guy’s life but in the orphanage where they’ve even taken away your pride whatever you do have assumes an exaggerated importance.  Or maybe it was the principle of the thing.

Darius was hurt beyond all belief.  He was really hysterical.  To be honest I felt so ashamed. I knew I had done something really wrong.  I didn’t know what to do with myself.  Here we both were, despised by the outside world, outsiders within our own world falling out with each other.  It was all my fault too.  I couldn’t lay off even a particle of blame on someone else.  It is true that Skippy was a sadistic scumbag but I knew that before I debased myself by forcing myself on him to go to the Temple.  Every way I turned for a way out I found a closed door.  The only refuge I had was that I’d saved his life, as Darius kept telling me, and I figured his life must have been worth a quarter.

That was what I figured.  Darius thought I had betrayed his sacred trust. So, well, we all make mistakes.  I was just miserable.

That all transpired in the fall of 1947 when my whole world was spinning so crazily I couldn’t even tell it was spinning.  Like I said; when you let go of the rope you enter a new reality.  Darius wouldn’t speak to me anymore while I put a big X on Skippy.  Old Man Darwen got fired for embezzlement that spring, while in June 1948 Darius and I both left the Orphanage.

I went to the Warden’s of course while Darius’ mom remarried and he was taken to live with them.

I had no sooner walked away from the Orphanage when all that became a closed book that happened in another lifetime.  The gold fish thing is one of those things that bothered me on a daily basis then as now but I forgot Darius.

 

-II-

 

I was living another life when I ran into Darius at the public library.  The Wardens and I were down there for some reason, I don’t know, maybe they wanted to check out a book, when Darius touched my shirt in the most timid manner from behind.

I turned and around and actually didn’t recognize him.  In only a year this kid had been beaten to a psychological pulp.  He was totally distracted.  He no longer had any personal identity left.  He wasn’t even breathing the same air everyone else was.  It wasn’t pleasant for me to be reminded of my own past so I was about to brush him off but with eyes that could no longer see outside his mental trauma he implored me in this strange birdlike voice to come with him as he had something to tell me.

My god, I saw into his anguished mind and could not refuse him.

Only a year, only a year had elapsed since we had left the Orphanage but our lives were so crowded with debilitating incident that it might as well have been three or four lifetimes.  Things were moving so fast that I had no time for reflection to make some sense of it.  Everything was just scenery passing by a train window.  For Darius that year had been all the time he needed to complete his education in this world.

Darius, who then only nine, took me by the hand and led me into the children’s story telling room and holding both my hands he began telling me the story of his life since leaving the Orphanage.  He didn’t really tell it to me but he sang me his adventures in that high birdlike twitter he was using in a series of sort of poetic lay.  Darius had a real gift for putting his thoughts in poetic form.  It was as though he had three of the Muses on his shoulders singing the words to him while he merely repeated them in a trancelike fashion.

I don’t know what a distracted picture I might have presented to him but Darius was no longer looking at the world through his windshield.  He was completely withdrawn within himself.  His eyes were turned inward.  I’m sure he saw me and his surroundings but only in the most passive manner, sort of like seeing the reflection of the world inside of the train window at sixty miles per.

As before he spoke or sang in this high twitter through pursed lips as though he were whistling.  He held me firmly but gently telling me he had to tell me this as I was his only friend.  Only I would understand.  I guess he’d forgotten the gold fish.  I didn’t want to listen because Darius was an unwelcome intrusion from a past I did not want back in my life.  I’m probably the only guy who could understand what he was talking about and be able to even partially sympathize.  As he was holding onto me firmly and gently even imploringly I had no choice.

Darius’ mother remarried with full intentions of giving up her former profession but the guy she married didn’t have much character.  He didn’t exactly mistreat Darius but there was a cold indifference in his attitude that dashed any hopes Darius had of having a decent family life.

Part of this Darius told me and part of this I conjecture.  His step-father ran up some gambling debts that he didn’t have the money to pay.  He turned to his wife for help suggesting that she ply her old trade.  Following the precepts of her former Madam Darius’ mom had come through her experience without too much damage to her reputation.  People knew but because of the Madam’s precautions not as many as you might think.  Mainly her patrons.  She had learned the lesson and was reluctant to practice in the Valley.  So in that very summer he was released Darius’ family took a working vacation in Toronto, Canada.

Darius was unaware of the true situation as it unfolded.  The truth only dawned on him later.  Too bad for him, I would have suppressed it.  The three of them checked into a motel.  Darius’ mother walked over to the side of the road to begin soliciting right there and then.  Darius saw this and was somewhat mystified as to what his mother was doing.  Well, the motel manager was not mystified, he knew exactly what she was doing.  He wasn’t going to have any of that done out of his motel either.

He accosted Darius’ mother and her husband in the courtyard.  As Darius was standing by he informed his mother that he couldn’t have prostitutes working out of his motel.  Darius had no idea that his mother had been or was a prostitute, so he became very angry with the manager, taking it as a personal insult, laying into him with both his little fists screaming that the man couldn’t call his mother a prostitute.

The manager was a pretty decent guy and when he realized that Darius was innocent of his mother’s and step-father’s doings he relented rather than humiliate the little boy.  He said they could stay but to practice her trade somewhere else than in front of his motel.

My heart nearly broke at this story but it was only a preamble to a worse.  The sequel made clear to Darius his mother’s true past.  The poor little guy just couldn’t handle it.  Of course, who knows how his mind was affected down in the hell hole of an infant’s dormitory.  Dormitory?  Heck, there was so much noise going on all the time down there who could sleep?  The poor guy had probably been awake a whole year before he came upstairs, that certainly would have weakened his resistance.

There was a big change in the way Darius told the second story too.  He had sung the first story in the first person.  Strangely he never looked directly at me but off to the right with his head down.

In the second half he switched to the third person like he was telling about someone else.  I guess it was too much for him to bear.  I read a story by Jean Genet once in which five or six guys gang raped him.  He tells the story as though he stood by watching some other get sodomized.  You see, when it all bets bad enough in order to protect your sanity you just step outside yourself and let them do whatever they will to your body but you don’t let them touch your mind but you still have to live with the results.  Darius did that although he wasn’t capable of actually maintaining the lie.  Given enough time he would have suppressed the memory into his subconscious where it would have made him schizophrenic or maybe worse sometime later on.

Or, maybe he might have been able to turn it into something else like maybe his father dying.  Or, who knows, maybe he’d have been able to manage his way out.  Life is funny, you can’t never tell.  Of course, also, maybe he might have become a serial killer, teach everyone a lesson.

Here the story gets really incredible.  It took me years and years to figure this out but I finally did.  I probably will not be believed but as Mark Twain said, of course truth is stranger than fiction, the truth doesn’t have to be plausible.  How true that is.  The finest stories in the world can’t be told because they require too great a suspension of belief.

Now, Darius didn’t know who David Hirsh was but he got the name right.  I knew who David Hirsh was but a mental block prevented my dealing with him on a conscious level.  So I didn’t know to whom Darius referred at the time but he gave me a very accurate physical description which I did remember and was able to connect up decades later.

Hirsh apparently had visited the house out of which Darius’ mother worked.  Whether or not he had anything against Darius’ mother or his step-father, Hirsh’s perversity apparently followed diverse and devious channels so it’s difficult to figure.   He must have had some strange variant of homosexuality that, while he didn’t violate little boys directly, he literally screwed their minds.  You know my history with Hirsh.  Hirsh now came after little nine year old Darius.  Aww, didn’t Hirsh have anything else to do?  Didn’t he have enough money to entertain himself in other ways?

As I said, Hirsh was seen around the Orphanage  so perhaps he saw Darius there, or maybe Darius’ mom had mentioned him to Hirsh on a ‘date.’  Perhaps he took a perverse delight in adding to the torments of a disadvantaged child.  Perhaps he was saying that as a little Jewish kid he had felt tormented by others.  Maybe he felt he had been in the exact same situation and no one had taken pity on him.  Perhaps he thought he was just passing it on.  Madness lasts a lifetime and takes many forms.

The setup he organized was incredibly elaborate but he was able to control all the variables to make it work.  I’m sure he saw himself as a man of consummate genius, some sort of Einstein of perversity.

First, unknown to Darius, of course, he went to Darius’ mom to proposition her.  She declined at first because she was sincerely trying to go straight.  But, as Hirsh pointed out to here it wasn’t like he was asking her to do what she had never done before.  One more time wouldn’t hurt.  The pay was good and he wanted her to be sure to bring her son along.   I’m afraid I can’t tell about golden hearted prostitutes, Darius’ mom had no scruples to overcome, she was only too glad to do it.  She just asked the details then went along.

There was an old decrepit amusement park just North of Bay City called Winona Beach.  The place was within a few months of shutting down.  On weekdays there was virtually no one there, they didn’t even operate the rides.

This was a Wednesday, Darius’ mom showed up at Winona Beach with Darius in tow.  The day itself was sultry and overcast threatening a rain shower which it didn’t deliver.  There was literally no one in sight when Darius and his mom arrived save for a few employees.  The merry-go-round was still and there was no mirth in the Fun House.

Following Hirsh’s instructions Darius was left on the boardwalk.  It was a real boardwalk elevated about twelve to fifteen feet above the beach forming the midway.  Darius’ mom entered a door to the side of the Fun House, mounting a flight of stairs leading to a room over the Fun House where Hirsh awaited her.  Darius was told to wait outside.

Doing this in an amusement park over the Fun House was a capital joke for Hirsh’s mad criminal mind as he was having fun in so many ways at someone else’s expense.  He was really a shameless guy.

He brought along his son Michael and that gang to torment Darius.  Even though I was outnumbered by them in my encounters I was at least he same age but at nine they were much bigger and more savvy than he.  Hirsh had no business turning big kids like that loose on a nine year old kid.  Hirsh had already demonstrated his shamelessness and would again but he was so base in this that my mind just boggles.  It’s like he wasn’t human and if he was he had found ways to distort ‘human’ out of all recognition.

Darius said, or rather sang, that they didn’t lay a hand on him but butted and jostled him with their shoulders hoping he would fall off the boardwalk.  Of course, Hirsh was watching from his window over the Fun House with Darius’ mom making her laugh at Darius’ plight.  How perverse do you have to be to take pleasure in making a boy’s mother laugh at his tortures?  Shameless whore that she was she respected Hirsh’s power more than her son’s welfare and laughed heartily.

Then one of the Hirshes suggested that people often dropped money through the boardwalk to the sand below.  Sid Cohen showed Darius seventy-five cents he said he found down there.  As much to get away from them as anything else Darius went down below the boardwalk.  Then as a big joke all the Hirshes stood over him and peed on him through the gaps in the slats.  As they did they looked up at Hirsh’s window where they were rewarded with peals of laughter from Hirsh and Darius’ mom.

Darius had no idea why he was being treated so badly by complete strangers.  There was no way he could get away from them.  When he went back up they hustled him into the dance hall.  The hall was adjacent to the Fun House.  The owners had built a viewing place behind some slats like a venetian blind high up so they could monitor activity on the dance floor from above the Fun House.  You know, either keep fights to a minimum or watch their stooges start them.  Darius was by now thoroughly unhappy.  As he was trying to escape the taunts and jostling of the Hirshes the bartender, or whatever he was, big burly guy, charged at him shouting get out of here you little bastard, we don’t want your kind around here.

Darius almost broke down when he had to tell how frightened he was as he fled the place while the little Hirshes rolled on the floor laughing at him.  Darius actually told me that he heard his mom’s voice laughing but as he told it he seemed to edit it out so that he seemed to forget, or suppress it, as he told it.  It was bad enough that I had betrayed his trust over the gold fish; his mother’s betrayal was so much worse.  I guess he had to go through some pretty deep denial to keep his mental balance, such as he had.  Even then he hadn’t seen the worst yet.

So, this fat old bartender comes out and shouts at him that he couldn’t be much of a boy or he wouldn’t have scattered like that.  Did Darius think, he said, that he would actually hurt him?  Well, Darius did think that and I don’t blame him.  The Hirshes didn’t follow Darius outside so he sat on this bench around a big oak tree next to the merry-go-round looking down the boardwalk wondering when this nightmare was going to end and feeling like he really was a failure because he ran from the big fat bartender.

Now, the boardwalk curved along the beach in a manner that Darius was looking directly at the window behind which Hirsh, delirious with delight at Darius’ distress, was screwing his mother for a few dollars.  Whether it was a happy inspiration or Hirsh’s devious projection of reality actually happening, as Darius watched the blinds were pulled up where Darius could see his mother facing him on her hands and knees while Hirsh worked her behind doggy style.  Maybe she was embarrassed finally and didn’t know what to do but she laughed out loud at Darius, stuck out her tongue and wagged it at him.

I don’t know for sure that Darius was even aware of what he was telling.  I mean, I don’t know how much he consciously remembered and much was just welling up from his subconscious where it would return unremembered by Darius’ conscious mind.  I mean, the kid was hurting so bad that I didn’t want to be near him let alone share in his terrible anguish.

Shortly after his mother came down the stairs motioned to him to get in the car telling him they were finished and were going home.  They were finished!  Who were they?  Darius and his mom or the Hirshes and Darius’ mom.  Finished at what?  Demolishing the poor little kids sanity?   He then said that he told his mom that he didn’t want to know her anymore.

I had listened in shocked silence but that sent me through the floor.  I was immobilized by the end of his story.  Darius then actually kissed my hands and said I was the only friend he’d ever had.  Just about that time Jack Warden shows up and orders me out to the car.  ‘What are you queer?’  he says in the most derogatory way.  ‘No, I’m not queer.’  I say, not even knowing what queer was at that time.  I didn’t know what it was but I knew if it was bad I couldn’t be it.

So, I left Darius standing there.

If I was Darius’ best friend he was in sadder shape than either of us knew because I couldn’t use his distress.  I had enough of my own.  If I had added his to mine it would have broken me.  I just couldn’t do it, he would have to fend for himself.  Life was just as hard for me too.  I dismissed him from my mind, didn’t think about him at all until two weeks later I read that he’d solaced his mental problem with a load of buckshot.

A shotgun. Wow!  The kid sure as hell had a lot more nerve than I did.  But, you know, I’ve thought about it and I don’t really think he was trying to commit suicide.  This may sound funny but I think he was just trying to put his eyes out.  Somehow he didn’t think the buckshot would go any further than that; it would stop short of taking his head off.

That’s what I think.  His eyes had seen too much.  His intellect and will had been totally emasculated.  It was something like George Bernard Shaw who thought his peculiar vision of the world was the result of being able to see more accurately than other men, or Jackson Brown  who makes the same complaint in his song Doctor, My Eyes.  Darius’ reaction was much the same as that of Oedipus who put out his eyes with the clasps of if his mother who was also his wife’s brooches when he could no longer deal with the reality that he had married his mother.  A little further in and he too would have committed suicide.  The minds of both he and Darius were incapable of resolving their mental dilemmas.  So I suppose you could say Hirsh murdered Darius.  It was a good law and order crime.  At the time I knew nothing of Hirsh’s involvement.  I couldn’t recognize Hirsh.  I had my own eyes and mental emasculation to worry about.

In way I was almost relieved that Darius had done it because I had no room for his troubles and my own.  Saving his life hung over me.  How did I even know he wanted his life saved.  I mean, he had every reason to believe that he had been deserted by his mother, he was down there in that infant’s hell hole, alone and deserted.  How fearful he must have been of his tonsil operation.  When he passed me in the hall he did say that he had to go and die now.  So, maybe he had a death wish.  Maybe he’d already had enough then.  Maybe subconsciously he was taking advantage of an opportunity so his subconscious mind made him hemorrhage.  Maybe I ruined his chance to change this world for the next and so he made me responsible for the rest of his life.  It sure seemed like he thought I owed him something.  I didn’t care.  I didn’t want any part of it.  I was just being a good scout, that’s all.

I stood on my knees with my hands on my hips for some few minutes before I closed the door on that one and moved on to the next.  There were lots of news items I hadn’t read yet and besides I hadn’t even gotten to the funnies.

Vol. I, Clip 4: The Vampyres Of New York

Vol. I

The Vampyres Of New York

Clip 4

by

R.E. Prindle

 

Now, Gentlemen, to make myself intelligible I should clear up two things: one is the ages old conflict between the Aryans and the Semites that continues into the present, and second, the meaning of vampirism.

I find it necessary to set the stage for the first argument by a rather lengthy quote from the father of history, Herodotus.  I use the Landmark Edition:

Herodotus of Hallicarnassus here presents his research so that human events do not fade with time.  May the great and wonderful deeds- some brought forth by the Hellenes, others by the barbarians- not go unsung; as well as the causes that led them to make war on each other.

Persian authorities of the past claim that the Phoenicians were responsible for the dispute.  This is because, after they had come to and settled the land which they still inhabit from what is now called the Erythraean Sea, they at once undertook long sea voyages and brought back cargo from Egypt, Assyria, and elsewhere, but more importantly came to Argos.

At this time in the land we now call Hellas, Argos surpassed other places in all things, and when the Phoenicians reached Argos they set out their cargo for sale.  On the fifth or sixth day after their arrival, when they had sold almost everything, many women came down to the sea, in particular, the king’s daughter.  Her name, according to what the Hellenes also say, was Io daughter of Inarchos.  The women were standing by the stern of the ship intent upon their purchases when the Phoenicians, inciting each other, rushed upon them.  The greater part made their escape, but some were seized and carried off.  Io herself was among the captives.  The Phoencians put the women on board their vessel and set sail for Egypt.

This is how Io came to Egypt according to the Persians (thought the Hellenes disagree), and this was the beginning of grievances.

Then much later Jason abducted Medea followed by the Trojan abduction of Helen and so over the millennia the war between the East and West has continued as it does today.  Egypt was not part of Asia but of the West.

Alexander followed by the Romans conquered Asia and so it remained until the Semitic Arabs annexed North Africa, Spain and most of the Middle East, that is Asia.

The Jewish diaspora began in far distant time taking definite shape in Roman times when using the diaspora the Jews attempted to subvert and conquer the Roman Empire.  When that attempt broke into open war in the first and second centuries AD the Jews were crushed but the Roman Empire had been undermined by the Jewish War.

The Jews as a hostile alien element in Europe lived what was considered  a parasitic life on the Europeans but in our term might be described as vampiric.

So, now, what is meant by vampiric.  I’m sure we all agree that true or blood sucking vampires do not exist nor have they ever existed.  As George Sylvester Viereck, the early nineteenth century American writer, put it in his novelette, The House Of The Vampire: Our gods are ourselves raised to the highest power.  So our gods and demons are merely projection of our desires.  By their deeds shall you know them.

God the highest on one hand and Satan his diametrical opposite but both are the products of our imaginations.  Who you going to follow, your best or your basest desires?

The human mind personates those desires and expresses them.  Previous to the emergence of the creator god, that in itself says something about human desires, the Earth was enchanted, filled with imaginary beings that personated nearly everything.  As it was thought that nature abhorred a vacuum the very air was filled with spirits, nixies, pixies, elves, elementals abounded without limit and this was very satisfying to the human intellect.  Then as Europeans evolved and reason took over from superstition all these imaginary beings could no longer be justified and vanished.

But, as nature abhors a vacuum, humanity missed its imaginary beings so they were bodied forth in another way.  The very person this literary group was named after was present at the death of the old world and the birth of the new.  That is essentially the context of his stories.

Even as Hoffman was straddling the two periods a band of the younger generation was summering in Switzerland, Byron, Mary and Percy Shelley and Polidori.  Is it an amazing coincidence that the party bodied out two of the great myths of the modern world, that is Frankenstein and the Vampyre as its author John Polidori styled it.  Thus the new scientific world was given its key myths while the Vampyre gave a presence to a psychological type.  These two would later by joined by the great myths of Jekyll and Hyde, The Phantom Of The Opera, and Tarzan Of The Apes.  The whole space opera epic as well as Flying Saucers and many other myths that while imaginary filled the mythological needs after the downfall of Napoleon.

No myth has been more fully explored than that of the Vampyre.  Dracula, the actual bloodsucker who appeared in Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel of the same name is the most famous although the psychic Vampyre is best portrayed in George Sylvester Viereck’s House Of The Vampire and is the type of Vampyre I’m concerned with in this essay.

Perhaps the best example of this type of Vampyre is in the history of the Jews in Spain.  Tax farming was the old style of collecting revenues.  In this guise the kings, in this case in Spain, would lease out tax collecting.  He would commit the tax farmers to return X amount of revenue and anything they could collect above that was theirs.  This amounted to a license to steal.

Thus as the Spaniards forged their way from the French border to the Mediterranean against the Moors there was a constant need of revenues.  Spanish citizens found it difficult to collect being one with the taxpayers so the Jews stepped forth and said that they could collect with no trouble as they were a different race.

And so a system of exploiting the Spanish that lasted for hundreds of years began.  Every year at Harvest time the Jewish tax farmers descended on the Spanish farmers collecting not only the king’s quota but whatever they could extract leaving the Spanish near destitute.

As the farmers were now broke the Jews leant their own money to them against the next year’s crops thus insuring that the wealth of Spain should flow into their pockets, or purses as it was then.

This system was a great grievance to the Spaniards who would endure it as long as they could before attempting a revolt.  Such revolts were styled anti-Semitism.

Now, as the Jews were properly resented they had to create fortified positions in which to remain unmolested.  These were actual forts into which they retreated at night for their own safety.  In later centuries these forts would be styled ghettoes in which Spaniards forced them to live.

When Spaniards assaulted these forts these assaults were naturally styled social disturbances.  The Jews called on their employer the king to defend them.  Spanish troops were then called out to disperse the Spanish ‘anti-Semites.’

This obnoxious system was ended by Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492 when the last Moorish enclave was expelled from Spain at which time the Jews (and Moors) were given the choice of being expelled or abandoning their Jewish identity and religion and ‘become’ Spaniards.  Idle dream that.

As the Spanish method was characteristic of Jews everywhere they were nowhere welcome being expelled not only from Spain but from all other places.

It is impossible to act in their manner without being noticed and characterized.  Before the rise of the Vampyre myth the Jews were called parasites as their wealth depended on exploiting others but after Emancipation by the French Revolution they were increasingly compared to Vampyres and the myth of the Vampyre become the dominant myth of Western civilization and that is how I will use the myth.  It is real on the psychological level but not on the physical.

So, does that answer my use of the Vampyre figure?

Baron Cammell:  I’m not familiar with your interpretation of the Jews in Spain.  Do you have any authority for that?

Me:  Ben-Zion Netanyahu tells the story in his History Of The Jews In Spain along with many other details.

Max Savings:  Is Ben-Zion Netanyahu any relation to Bibi?

Me:  Yes.  He is Bibi’s father or was, he died about five years ago.  Old man though, survived innumerable wars and death camps.  Long winded book.

OK.  If that’s it now that we have those two points cleared up let us advance.

As this is actually a brief history of the conflict between Jews and Europeans it is necessary to give some account of the period between the Spanish expulsion and the emancipation of the French Revolution.  Contrary to current opinion that all people are one we are not all one.  We do not all think alike, believe alike or act from the same motives seeking the same results nor is it likely we will in any conceivable future.  Freud, who we will become very familiar with further along, posits the existence of group psychology.  Group psychology posits that groups are at least subject to some motivation different from other groups.  It is absolutely clear that Jews and Europeans have not and do not share the same motivations.

Nobody shares Jewish motivations hence they have been expelled from every society within whom they have settled.  Hence they were expelled from England in 1290, France in 1307, various German States over the centuries and Russia.  These expulsions completely exasperated the Jews instilling a deep and abiding hatred of Europeans to the point they wished to exterminate them.  Remember the Amalekites.

The Catholic Church with whom the Jews were in competition kept them in check until the French Revolution and Emancipation.  With Emancipation the woes of Europe began in earnest.

As an allegory of the situation the twentieth century US writer Charles Beaumont wrote a story entitled The Howling Man that was later used as an episode for The Twilight Zone.  The story describes a monastery of monks that has captured Satan and imprisoned him.  It is their duty to make sure he doesn’t escape to plague the world; hence they allow no one in the monastery.  However a traveler having lost the way begs the monks to put him up for the night.  There is a time for Christian charity and time for none.  This was one of the latter times.

Over the night Satan howls and howls bringing the traveler to his prison door.  Persuaded by Satan that he is being justly imprisoned the ignorant traveler releases him and Satan is once again loose on the world.

This is symbolic of the situation between the Jews, the Church and the Revolution.  Within a little over a hundred years after Emancipation the European Holocaust of 1914-1950 began and European civilization was damaged beyond recovery.

While at the time of the Spanish expulsion society was considered static by the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries it became dynamic.  That is the European mind evolved and from that evolution a scientific understanding of the world at last arrived.

Contrary to what everyone has been told the Jewish mind remained static.  Over the centuries the majority of Jews occupied that stretch of land from Baltic to the Black Seas between Eastern Poland and Russia.  That land became known as the Pale of Settlement.  Its culture created by the Jews is the true face of Judaism.  It was based on the Talmud and its commentaries hence it was essentially superstition unaffected by Western science.

In the West the English expulsion was rescinded during the time of Cromwell while the European emancipation began in France and spread East from there over the nineteenth century.

When Napoleon attacked Germany in 1806 the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassell gave the Jews an incomprehensible break when he entrusted his fortune to them rather than be looted by Napoleon.  This was an immense fortune.  The Landgrave had been renting out his male subjects as mercenaries, hence the Hessians of the American revolution.

He had converted these revenues into loans and mortgages on vast numbers of properties throughout Europe.  The Landgrave entrusted this incredible fortune to the court jeweler Meyer Rothschild.  Rothschild had five sons among which he distributed this fortune sending Nathan to England, James to France and the others to Berlin, Vienna and Naples.  Situations were not so propitious for the others or they were not as capable but James and Nathan were able financiers who became preeminent in their countries while making the Rothschilds the richest family in the world.  We no longer hear of the Landgrave of Hesse.

Remarkably within just a few years the Rothschilds had an organization that could manipulate the affairs of Europe.  This would imply a preexisting organization.  During the Peninsular War in Spain Wellington might have been defeated by Napoleon’s armies for the lack of money to carry on.  Nathan whose immense fortune was then unaccounted for volunteered to loan the English government the gold and deliver it to Wellington in Spain.

This was done by smuggling the gold into France and transporting and delivering it overland to Wellington in Spain under the nose, as they say, of Napoleon.

No mean feat.  How did they do it?  Obviously in possession of the Landgrave’s wealth they were able to use a preexisting covert Jewish network.

Thus also after the Battle of Waterloo when the outcome was unknown in England Jewish couriers got the news of victory to Rothschild quicker than the authorities got it allowing him to speculate on securities and augment his fortune considerably.  Thus the Jews became an autonomous, or nearly so, nation within the various European States.

With the rise of the Jews came the rise of the myth of the Vampyre.  As noted Polidori’s story appeared in 1816.  It was not long before vampire stories began to flood the market.  Aiding the Vampyre idea was the discovery of hypnotism by the Viennese doctor or proto-scientist Anton Mesmer.  Once that cat was let out of the bag the way was clear for the means to control whole societies and even civilizations.  This fact has been insufficiently realized but it has been the main tool of Vampyres.

Once in the money led by the Rothschilds the Jews were able to control almost all the commodities while becoming important in railroading both in Europe and North America.  They sent a very effective agent named August Belmont (assumed name) to manage their affairs in the US.

With emancipation and the vast wealth created by emerging technologies and the rise of modern financial institutions of course, what Jews call anti-Semitism  arose in reaction to what Europeans called blood-sucking.  Thus the Jews were perceived as sucking away the very vitality of Europe and Europeans.

It was necessary for the Jews to conceal what their intentions were which were, indeed, the destruction of Europe and ‘Christianity’ their term, or Europeans in ours.  The hatred generated over the centuries only increased in virulence as, indeed, the Jews sank allegorical fangs into the neck of Europe.

As I said, the Jews were divided between the East and the West.  Those of England, France and Germany were bowled over by the rise of Science.  Scientific thinking invalidated all Jewish claims to supremacy over Christianity.  Religion became irrelevant.  It no longer served Jewish interests.

Long had Jews considered their vision of God, that is, themselves magnified to the highest power, as supreme while denigrating Europeans as Christians whose religion was grafted onto the main root of Judaism, following Ben Zion Netanyahu’s explication of the two peoples.  Now, in one fell swoop those claims were negated to nothing while European Science stood incontrovertibly towering over Talmudic superstition.  Yes, the Talmud, the rock of Judaism, was reduced to no more than possibly amusing nonsense.

The Eastern Jews sunk into barbaric forms of antiquated Jewish fictions was nearly oblivious to the rise of Science in the West and would remain so until those Jews in their millions emigrated to the United States.

As the Western Jews thrashed around trying to devise a religious answer to Science whole thousands abandoned the faith of their fathers for the rational West.  The West made giant strides in the understanding of the world.  What were the Jews to do?  If Science couldn’t be overmatched, and it couldn’t, then it would have to be subordinated first to a level with ‘Jewish knowledge’, that is the Talmud, and then below.  How was that to be done?

Here we have a first glimmer of the theory of relativity.

All systems would become relatively equal in value.  Nothing would be better or worse, just different.  It would be proposed that Jewish knowledge was equal to European knowledge; they would both stand on pedestals of equal height.  Thus the Talmud was disguised as ‘Jewish knowledge.’  A mighty task to realize but the Jews have been equal to the task.  How did they achieve it against seemingly impossible odds?

Baron Cammell:  I’ve never heard anything like this.  Do you have anything to substantiate your views?

Me:  Baron!  I thought this was a group brought together for discussion of lesser known issues, backstories.  That’s what I am providing.

Here I had to suppress any reference to Cammell’s ridiculous co-called unified field of knowledge.  I almost gagged when he’d mentioned it but in the spirit of fellowship I passed over it.

Baron:  Well, yes, but all this conspiracy twaddle about the Jews!  Come, come, haven’t these people suffered enough?

Lessing:  The fellowship, Baron, the fellowship.  Moderate your discussion.

Me:  Thank you Lessing.  Baron, do you deny that the Jews function as an autonomous people or, at least, a self-interested group?

Baron:  I think that diversity is a key virtue of the American system. That’s the kind of people we are.

Me:  That, in itself implies a distinct identity within a plurality, does it not?

Baron:  Perhaps so, but…

Me:  Then so.  In the Freudian sense they are a cohesive group and can be examined as such and that is what I’m doing.  On the other hand I’m dealing with what Freud would perhaps call meta-psychology.  The creation of mental archetypes or myths, if you will, so how the human mind deals with ill understood or unpleasant ideas or those realities that can only be discussed allegorically and hence in mythological figures such as Vampyres.  At this point in history that is the Mauve Nineties.  This period, as you are aware I’m sure, was a very critical period in European history not least because it was a period of intense reaction to the disenchantment of society by Science as well as the rising threat of Semitism.

Baron:  That’s what I mean!  Is it necessary to consider the Jews a threat.

Me:  Necessary or not, the Jews were considered a threat.  Need I remind you that the intensely nationalistic creed of Zionism conquered the minds of the East Jews at this time.  The Englishman George Du Maurier wrote his magnificent allegory of Trilby exposing it at this precise time.

The reaction to Science was also intense.  All kinds of fantastic notions were relaeased.  The esoteric ferment was expressed in the rise of the cult of the Golden Dawn that was taken over by the notorious Aleister Crowley that continues as a significant influence in Satanic thought to this day.

The Englishman George Du Maurier wrote his magnificent allegory Trilby at this precise time creating the menacing figure of Svengali who is still today nearly a household name.  He is secondary perhaps to Dracula but on the same level.  Indeed Svengali was a type of psychic Vampyre who is portrayed as Jewish and representing the Jewish people.

I don’t know how many of the fellowship have read Trilby but it is quite a landmark in literature.

Max Savings:  I read your review of the book on your website and found it quite interesting.  Lessing has also, haven’t you Lessing?

Me:  Thank you for your reading.  I feel compelled to go on.  I don’t think Baron has and probably not Marc.  Has anybody read Du Maurier or Trilby?  No?  Hmm.

Du Maurier wrote three books all in the nineties.  Trilby is the most famous but his superb Peter Ibbotson is almost as well known as Trilby while his last The Martian may be unknown to most although I have more reads of my review of it than I imagined I would.

As you probably know the artist Whistler was caricatured by Du Maurier in Trilby who knew him during their Bohemian days in Paris.  Whistler forced the excision of the caricature from the book version so most copies lack that literary portrayal however WH Allen issued a complete edition in 1983 including the excised parts under the title Svengali.  I might add that the back cover blurb describes the book as ‘one of the great myths of fiction so, Baron, I am not alone in crediting these ideas to mythology.

Now, Du Maurier is clearly in reaction to the feared takeover of European civilization by the Jews.  Remember the Dreyfus  brouhaha was raging in France at the time and the result of the Dreyfus incident was the breakdown of French resistance to Semitism.  Once again the rise of the Zionism that produced as its textbook The Protocols Of The Learned Elders Of Zion was written at or near 1900.

Trilby, or Svengali, then expresses a deep anxiety.

Du Maurier himself is a very interesting person.  The end of the century was a period of the Neo-Romantics or a re-enchantment of Europe of which Du Maurier was central.  He was a man who loved his life, every scrap of it.  He was born in Paris in 1834, dying in 1896.  Thus he became aware in France at the tail end of the Romantic period but its literature would have been and was a powerful influence on his intellectual development.  Crucial to his development was his French and English experience that appears in all three of his books.  He was destined by his father to be a chemist who set him up in business in London.  At his father’s death he threw over chemistry returning to France to study art and living the Bohemian life as depicted by Henri Murger in his memoir of that golden age of Parisian Bohemia.

He eventually returned to England where he became an illustrator ultimately finding a place at Punch Magazine where he would become celebrated.  He in turn celebrated the social milieu around him.  The times where a high point, perhaps the high point, in English culture and Du Maurier loved it, as why not. In retrospect it looks like a wonderful period.  He seemed to know how  magical the period was and he gloried in being part of it.  Sort of like our Sixties actually.

As the old guard at Punch shuffled off George was passed over for the editorship he thought he deserved and so he bid adieu to the magazine.  While always comfortable, enjoying a genteel Bohemian existence.  He was not rich but that would change in the last few years of his life when he found terrific success as a novelist, Trilby being the key to his financial success.

When he took up his pen he romanticized not only his own life but the whole history of his times from the Romantic period to the New Romantics of which he was a leading example.  If the Enlightenment disenchanted Europe Du Maurier worked hard to reenchant it.  He was in sync with the New Romantics.

Trilby was a rewrite of two Romantic novels.  The first was the charming novelette by the French Romantic Charles Nodier also named Trilby and the second the Bohemian novel of Henri Murger.  I find Nodier’s Trilby OK but it obviously entranced Du Maurier.  In Nodier’s version Trilby is a Scot fairy just past the edge of belief in the Little People.  He nevertheless appears to the heroine, a girl named Jeannie.

Jeannie mistakenly talks about Trilby who only she can see so that the more enlightened post-Romantics are alarmed.  She is subjected to ‘re-education’ in the process losing her zest for life.

Du Maurier in emulation of Nodier takes the same story transposing it into post-Romantic terms.  He transposes the sexes making Trilby female and Jeannie male.  Thus the heroine Trilby O’Farrell is a sort of free spirit in the Bohemia of Paris.  She is really sort of transvestite frequently appearing in men’s clothes while the hero ‘Little Billie’ is a fairly effeminate sort although with no taint of Homosexuality.  He is the same character as William Makepeace Thackeray’s poem Little Billie.  Du Maurier took him whole.  Billie is pretty close with his two roommates while falling in love with Trilby.

As George’s story opens Billie and his two friends are a sort of Three Musketeers with Trilby being a sort of D’Artagnon.  This is sort of relevant in explaining Du Maurier:  He loved his memories and couldn’t believe that such wonderful memories disappeared after death.  In a wonderful way he incorporates literary tribute memories in his work.  He even mentions works by name that had a major influence on him. 

Into this mix comes the arch villain the evil Jew, Svengali.  He might be based on Lady of The Three Musketeers.  DuMaurier doesn’t go into a lot of detail concerning Svengali’s background but he was an Eastern Jew, a wandering Jewish type known as a Schnorrer, that is an impoverished ne’er do well not too dissimilar from the American hobo of the period.  You didn’t really want to see him coming.  Svengali has all the arrogance of the Schnorrer.  Even though penniless he arrogates the attitude of the Prince to himself.  Chutzpah on a stick.

He himself is an accomplished musician familiar with qualities that could make a great vocalist.  Prying Trilby’s jaws apart he examines Trilby’s oral cavity making the determination that the configuration of the cavity was the needful for a great vocalist.  Unfortunately Trilby can’t find notes or melodies although she does render Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt for the amusement of the boys.  Svengali is not to be deterred as we will learn.

Trilby and Little Billie hit it off so that he proposed marriage to her.  However Trilby is an artist’s model and models were notoriously sexually lax even being thought of as a prototype of prostitute.  Billie is of a higher social status so when his mother visits she is horrified at the prospect of the union  drawing Billie back to England scotching the marriage.  This might be compared to Jeannie’s reeducation in Nodier’s version.

Trilby suffers tribulations, just as Jeannie did, finally ending up on Svengali’s doorstep.  He takes her in because of her marvelous oral cavity.

The pair disappear into the wilds of the East.  Svengali is not only a great musician but an unscrupulous first rate hypnotist.  Hypnotism was a hot topic at the end of the century.  Du Maurier and a friend actually practiced the art on girls back in the 1850s. 

There is no hope of teaching Trilby to sing in her natural state but Svengali discovers that he can, as it were, project his musical knowledge into Trilby while she is in a hypnotic state.  Hypnotized she made Jenny Lind sound like an amateur.  The only problem was that she could only sing when Svengali was making direct eye contact with her.  Apparently George is indicating the supposed Mesmeric magnetic fluid of the hypnotist flowing to the hypnotized.

Having organized his repertoire Svengali creates a magnificent career for himself and Trilby taking Europe by storm.  Thus we have an allegory of the Jewish exploitation of Europe while Svengali functions as a psychic Vampyre.  While not drawing blood he usurps Trilby’s life force as we will see when she is in her death throes.

Svengali arrives in London for shows where Billie and his friends will see her.  Svengali hates Billie with more than passion.  Conducting Trilby he glances up to see Billie thus breaking eye contact while dying from an apoplectic fit.  Trilby’s career is ended.

Svengali dead, Trilby who had been under total hypnosis for years can no long survive on her own.  Thus while Little Billie sought to fill Svengali’s shoes he fails miserably; Trilby’s dying words are Svengali, Svengali, Svengali.

In this unassuming but amazing novel Du Maurier demonstrates Europe’s relationship with the Jews since Emancipation.  He demonstrates perfectly psychic vampirism whereas others used terms to describe the Jews as bloodsuckers or parasites.

It is significant that DuMaurier uses the metaphor of hypnosis.  Even as Trilby was taking the world by storm, it is described as the first modern bestseller, the ultimate Jewish Vampyre, the Great Satan himself was finding his future career in Vienna, Sigmund Freud.  Freud was the West’s real Svengali.

After Anton Mesmer unleashed Mesmerism, also known as Animal Magnetism (meaning humans as magnets as opposed to iron) certain disciples improved on the principles while developing them into a system.  As a new phenomenon Mesmerism was rejected by the academy.  Hypnotism became a stage attraction used to amuse an audience.  But then one of the first great psychiatrists, a Frenchman by the name of Jean Martin Charcot  who presided at the Salpetriere  women’s asylum in Paris associated hypnotism with hysteria in women and began using it thus legitimizing it.

About the time Du Maurier was putting Trilby in order Freud was visiting Charcot in France.  Freud had begun as a research biologist.  He was consumed by the ambition to be a great man; he soon learned there was no future for him in biology or medicine so he thrashed around to find a field more open to manipulation.  He teamed up with a physician who dabbled in psychology, hysteria in female patients, Joseph Breuer from whom he saw the possibilities in the field that was in a nascent state thus being open to seizure.  He made his pact with Satan.

Satan was of course a pre-enlightenment mythical figure like God and actually, the Vampyre.  Unlike the God principle that sought the best in mankind Satanism indulged the worst passions.  As Freud was as consumed with hatred of the European as his fellow Jews he set out to exalt the Jews and demean and destroy Europeans.

Freud made few if any original contributions purloining from Charcot and Charcot’s great student Pierre Janet among others.  Guilty of what amounts to theft or psychic vampirism Freud then had to destroy Janet’s et al. reputation and bring them down and bury them which he did.  He, for instance talks about his discovery of the unconscious.  In a masterful way he hypnotized the world into believing that he had discovered the unconscious whereas Mesmer had exposed the concept and others had worked to develop it over the nineteenth century.  Freud merely developed a pernicious version of the unconscious and managed to impose that version on the world.

Now, the Jews had been busy seeking to undermine Science in an effort to lower the value to that of the Talmud- what Barbara Spectre calls Jewish knowledge- to make Jewish phantasies equal to Aryan thought.  Darwin’s concept of Evolution had been the intellectual Atom Bomb of the nineteenth century.  Few ideas have been so stoutly resisted as that of Evolution.  An Earth millions, even billions of years old, completely discredited the supposed creation of the universe less than six thousand years ago by the Jews.  If science was right then the Jews were fantastics living a lie or at least fictional view of history.  It is easy to understand their need to overturn Science.

Quite simply Jewish views were exploded.  A tedious Jew by the name of Henri Bergson sought to inject creationism into Darwin’s biology.  While this effort has never been an unqualified success it has strengthened the religious argument thus undermining science.

While Einstien’s reputation has been pumped up into amazing proportions his physics seem to have come from the back of his neck.  Nevertheless he has confused the discipline while as a sainted Jew few wish to challenge his ‘thought experiments’.  You all know that one about the elevator in space.

So Franz Boaz attacked the discipline of Anthropology injecting religion into it. To attack this notion could discredit one as an anti-Semite while losing your credibility and job.  Blacklisted, as it were.  And the keystone of the Jewish attack on Aryan Science has been Freud’s theories of psycho-analysis.

Freud was said to have abandoned the use of hypnosis very early by the year of 1900 presumably because he was an inept hypnotist.  This is really throwing dust in our eyes.  Freud abandoned the hocus-pocus of hypnotism because he found it wasn’t needed.  He understood more perfectly the role of suggestion in influencing behavior.  Thus it was possible to hypnotize whole crowds, even peoples, by suggestion, then indoctrination and finally conditioning.  By 1915 he had his system worked out and from that date on was busy putting it into effect.

Part of his success was effected through the disorientation of Europeans through constant innovation and change.  So-called common sense had been proven ridiculous by the overturning of not only long held beliefs but seemingly incontrovertible beliefs.  The very notion of the Eternal God of Jewish legend had been proven false for those with eyes to see.  Nothing challenged the notion of the Eternal God more than the theory of Evolution.  Old beliefs die stubbornly and none more stubbornly than that of God the Father and Creator.  Not surprisingly the search for proof of life after death, the most cherished of all beliefs, became of central importance.  Those who could tolerate the absence of God also refuse to give up the belief in eternal life after death.  Du Maurier was representative in supposing that his works proved life after death.  With his ‘proofs’ he was content to die and disappear into the sun.  That’s how The Martian ends.

Doubts about God gave impetus to other suppressed religious beliefs such as the occult science and Satanism.  When God ‘died’ in our Sixties the son of Satan was born in the movie Rosemary’s Baby.  It is not coincidental that Satanism after having been suppressed for millennia began its rise toward its current status of primary belief of today.  Nor is it coincidence that Freud and his Jews would be primary propagators.

Equally unsettling to the psyche and as I believe as the importance of Evolution was the Wright brothers discovery of how to keep a heavier than air plane afloat in the ether.  The achievement overturned all beliefs making anything believable.  If men could fly than nothing was impossible or maybe even improbable.

And for the Jews their discovery of a New World in the nineteenth century was fortuitous indeed.  Apart from a few Portuguese Jews in the seventeenth century the vanguard of the Jewish invasion arrived in the wake of the failed revolution of 1848.  This contingent rapidly established itself quickly acclimating and taking advantage of all the fabulous technological achievements of nineteenth century Aryans while being aided by European Jewish fortunes.

Prior to the nineteenth century people’s clothes were hand made.  Aided by the sewing machine and the development of cities a whole new industry of the needle trades developed.  When Eastern Jewish immigration began in the 1870s the needle trades were appropriated by the Jews while large numbers of Eastern Jews were directed to this industry.

Thus the Eastern Jews found a relatively easy access to American life.  There was no resistance to speak of in the United States while to the enterprising person opportunity to acquire wealth was nearly unbounded.

As most of the Jews chose to remain in New York City, then the commercial capital of the US, and as Jews comprised twenty-five to thirty percent of its population and therefore of the labor pool obviously Jewish infiltration of the cultural life of the US was immediate and pervasive.

New York City then became the Jewish capital of the US and, indeed, the world. New York City became a competitor of Washington DC as a governing body.  The US was a safe haven from which Jews could direct the subjugation of Europe.  Jewish hatred of the Russian Czars that led directly to WWI was managed from the US.  Jewish machinations caused the diplomatic break with Russia.  The idea was apparently to draw Germany into a war with Russia in an effort to destroy the Czar.  Thus was achieved by the assassination of the Austrian Grand Duke at Sarajevo.

Research indicates that the assassination was planned and directed from the Grand Masonic Lodge in Paris which means the Jews.

Perhaps the War in the West was not in the planning but an inevitable result once the war began.  In any event the Jewish hatred of Europeans resulted in the Great European Holocaust or what some call the Second Thirty Years War.

 

Continuation in Clip 5 continues.