RIANT CHATEAU,
TERRITET,
SUISSE.

Sunday.

Darling Horse,

I'll head this New York and not be
far out, in anything but language ! We are living on ice
cream and the prices are on New York level too ! Dog won't
hear a word against it. It thinks it fine, wonderful stimulating,
inspiring, wondrous, and magnificent.

But it surely is too swift for a small
Griffon. Without a Lynx to hold his leash and tie the right bow
on him. Dog talks of living in Germany. I guess I feel with
Freud. It has the future but - ! However it surely is
exciting. Every Ufa comic and every Ufa high drama is utterly
true to life.

Last night we took a taxi to the Ufa
Palast am Zoo. The catch about the Adlon is that all the cinemas,
theatres and night places are about twenty minutes away by fast taxi.
There is, as K. remarked, no law against speeding. We certainly
speeded. And finally hit Broadway. Miles upon miles of
electric lights. And the Palast am Zoo! It must be almost as
big as the Roxi. About the size of the South Kensington museum with
red plush walls and dozens of rooms. We got the last two five
shillings seats and at that were separated and rows apart. But
we saw the new three screen process, "Napoleon" directed by Abel
Gance, a French film. Suddenly curtains drew back and you saw
troops marching and superimposed stuff on three screens, with three
projectors working at once. Thus there was Napoleon escaping from
Corsica in a small boat in a storm, the waves shifted into mob at
Paris revolution convention and back into waves or later the troops
marched into Italy on either side with Napoleon looking at locket
etc going round in the middle. Very stunted but very interesting.
All the Germans frightfully keen but middle class: we get the
impression that upper class Germany does NOT go to the cinema.
And it is horribly difficult to find out what is on. However
Miss Wright has just rung up her and promised Kenneth an interview
with Fritz Lang, a visit to NeuBabelsburg, and several other shows.
And recommended a film for to-night. We spent this morning

at the museum...marvellous stuff, mainly however Florentine and
Venitian. Many Crivellis, one Giorgione, some wonderful Goyas,
and much good Italian Primitive, which K. liked. Also a Michelangelo
John the Baptist, he got a kick out of too.

We only did the paintings this morning and have not hit the
Greek stuff yet. At lunch the fat old dame or someone just like
her from the Ufa comics, lunched opposite with a pink powder puff in
black hat and a napkin tucked under her chin. Dozens of Americans
with Zee make up, red-bronze, several pure Hollywooders, one Anglais
with stock and monocle, out to swindle we judged, and the usual
Bullock type American males. Two pre-war German schoolgirls and
a few other Germans. Oh, so Brevoortish. K. says if only
the Lynx were here with her nose in the air and her behind out,
sniffing. We surely do need you. I became so alarmed after we
came back from Ufa Palast at forty miles an hour through Berlin's
most crowded streets that I felt I should never leave my room again
till we departed. But the museums are neatly up the road so I'll
live there instead. Food excellent but rich. All cream and
ice cream and ice water and a man opposite had thick soup for his
dinner, followed by three pastries and coffee ! Our room mercifully
is quiet. DOg is most proud and wants to dance. He surely ought
to have someone here not the Griffon. The traffic alarms me very
much. They seem to drive between forty and sixty miles per hour.
Taxis are the only cheap things in Berlin. You can go about three
miles for a shilling.

Everything on American plan. If you ring for breakfast
they answer and you order by telephone. German newspapers delivered
free with breakfast and a sea of advertisements. It will be too
expensive to stay here xlong. Probably we shall start back in about
eight days but take the return trip slowly, either back to Hamburg for
two days or else to Amsterdam.

No more now. Hope you are frisking your Lynx tail and
that all is well with the PUP. Glad George thought her French was
good. And Mamma wrote she had such a pleasant afternoon with you.

Much love,

Fido

I asked it to be a *good* Lynix. Tell the Harangue to look after it,
especially the holes where the whiskers have been sewed in. Mady
was lovely to day. Ask the Harangue if he saw it, Homesickness,
Nostalgie. Dam good if a bit choppy, but mon dieu, what atmosphere
and what acting. In a gold beehive larger than the Plaza with cubistic
scars, and concealed lights being blue and silver on all the gold.
Lovely. The Ufa palast about the size of Regents Park another gold
beehive, with red plush walls and red carpets. And miles and miles
of entrances and exits and disappearances and cabinets. Saw Napoleon
on three screens. Bad, over stunted, but sometimes absorbing and
startling as sheer experiment. Berlin is my soul's you know what, what
Venice is to you. I just lie down and give in to it meekly like
perennial zoo with the lid off. Zip step and pimulous.... nothing to
touch it. Dog sniffs and says Amuuuuuurica all over only a bit more
Americanised. A lovely city, and all bright gold with autumn trees.
Taxis keep small dog's heart permanently where he is in permanent danger
of biting the point off, but large dog sits back and feels smug.
There is a sort of super Hyde Park with forestal trees going straight
up in parallel straight parallels, in the best H. D. prose style, all
bright gold with gold on the ground, bang in the middle of the city
at the top of Unter den Linden, most lovely, and it separates us from
the movie and theatre quarter. We have talked to the Wright over the
telephone and are going to Neubabelsburg, the new Ufa studios and the
other studio where the filleted kipper went, and a treat has been
arranged; I am to interview Fritz Lang. "And what are your plans for
the coming season Herr Lang? Are we going to have the inestimable Joy
of Another Metropolis? Miss Wright dances and will be pleased to
come to dinner here as lunch is (patting her shingle) a little...hum!
Difficult to arrange. Honey and clover with a dash of high power
voltage. That's Berlin. Wish its Lynnix were here. Strutting down
Unter den Linden with its whiskers in the air, getting an awful kick
out of it, and pretending to hate it, "Oh, this.... I mean, why go to
New York and get a watered down version of the same thing? = (sniff
sniff) Throwing three schisophrenic fits, or phits per day when asked
to go anywhere, but always going. Good, dear Lynnix, take care of its
precious fur on its precious tail, and dont catch any mange or live
stock in the Theobalds Road. I am on the look out here for Richter
and Fuetterer and Mady Christians. Nice people all.

No more, dear honey coloured Lynnix, and do be careful of that
French institute, I mean all of it!!!!!!... I mean, I mean not only
Moliere or Racine, but the other institute. Such a tidy little man
you know really, and you'll find he'll get tiresome. Howsomever,
if the hat...
Love, and then some and then
some more. And love. Berlin is one big movie, like an impossible
dream. Wuffs. Wuffs. Wuffs.

The Saluki

Darling Horse,

RIANT CHATEAU,
TERRITET,
SUISSE.
Tuesday.

I have blushed at last ! We certainly
hit a most extraordinary film last night which kept the Dog in
hysterics. " Was Kinder den Eltern verschweigen " a drama
of childrens' pain ! And it was some drama.

It opened on a jazz party. Small German
youth with two daughters of the house, one bad, one good. Wishes to
marry bad one. Chases parents round the house to ask their per-
mission. Parents scream they are too busy to listen. Parents
loose money, take in lodgers. The good daughter gets job teaching
at a sort of Dalcroze school. Dalcroze in slow motion. Pats
smallest child to show her good heart. Good boy from across the
way falls in love with her. His - understanding - parents are
pleased. But alas, the vamp has seen him. He is rowing with
his schoolfellows. She dashes up in motor boat and says because
they have won a race she will give them new boat. One must go
alone to talk it over. Good boy goes. Wild pure Aggie Scott
and worse rape scenes. Nothing left to imagination. He is
told he must withdraw from the exam for inattentiveness. Rushes
to vamp and finds she has picked up somebody else. Falls on ground.
Is found by schoolfellow. Taken home. " Father I have betrayed
your confidence " ! " My son, we will talk as man to man and not
as father to son. " Father pats him - understanding - we are all
young once. Forget about it and get ahead with your exam. Boy
grins all over and puffs chest up. Virtue of understanding with
parents. Not so, next door. Lodger tries to paw good daughter
who complains to Mama who replies, you must have encouraged him or
it would not have happened. Bad girl is forbidden to see her
fiance. Sees him of course. He asks her to party. Lurid
scene of her having sexy dreams in bed - quite too indecent - as
she twists into best Zoo positions dreams of her being raped fade
in and out in thin nightdress ! By this point most of the males
in audience were shrieking with laughter. But mainly the audience
was composed of elderly socialological ladies from the Welfare of the
young committee getting a censor-permitted kick.

Bad daughter goes to party, gets drunk, stays the night. Good daughter says she must tell family. Bad daughter says do not even you understand me. Good daughter is silent. Bad daughter faints on piano - fears - go secretly to doctor. Smug doctor talks platitudes ...if you had the will to go ahead you must have the will to take consequences of going ahead. She tries to tell parents who again are to busy to listen. Dashes to lover. He says it is really very awkward. Give her an address. She goes to it. Presses button. Enters office. Gives bracelet in payment. Police discover the premises. Trace her, come to arrest her. Good daughter gives her money to escape. Parents say good daughter has sent her sister to death. Good daughter dashes out, dashes up staircase in best rat manner, leaps to window sill. Good boy from next door drags her back at critical moment. Takes her to his parents. His father marches over in approved Victorian style and administers a lecture to the erring parents. They weep. Father rushes forth to seek bad daughter. Finds her on streets, hiding from males. Says dramatically " the blame be mine." Her lover says " I will repair what I can." End.

DID you ever hear of anything so preposterous ! It is quite the most indecent film I've seen cooked up in the best moral sugar coating so that every old lady in Berlin was present. The only person in it possible was the good daughter, a funny little thing rather like a shadow of Greta Garbo in Joyless Street. But oh it was old-fashioned and badly photographed. And was quite too much for all the males present. I'm sure it is the sort of thing that will come round to Switzerland for those interested in the protection of the young ! We bought a Ufa magazine programme and among the fan queries at the end, were the facts that Fuetterer was not married but that Ellen Richter was and giving Veidt's address to numerous enquirers and saying he was expected to remain in America for the present. Perhaps you'd like to write him for his photograph ! !

Got a heap of dirt out of the Film Kourrier. Including a marvellous speech by some American who came over here and said that in the States no director was allowed in the cutting room ! And that America had one thing and one thing only to learn from Germany and that was how to keep their production costs as low as in Germany. Also that William Howard of White Gold is directing a new picture and also picture of Henny Porten as Violanta and an announcement of a high-mountain-picture, hoch-gebirge film, apparently from Switzerland. The Sacred Mountain, Chang, Buster Keaton in College, The Scarlet Letter with the Gish, and several more American films including Big Parade are on at the moment. More later. Love, Fido.

Wednesday.

Darling Horse,

I am surely going to have my tail hibbled off if Dog sees this letter but I went to Neubabelsberg this afternoon and didn't click. Of course one will like to show off about it in England but I'm not green enough or else too green to be impressed with just film studio and though it was frightfully interesting the place where Fido's bark is didn't bark. Most awkward. Dog went ahead and talked with herr Opitz who is going to see again with stills to-morrow. I followed a quarter of an hour later with Marc. Then we were all piled into a grain and taken a XXX hour's trip into the country. With a man from the Yorkshire Post. And some Germans. The first thing we hit was a huge crucifix with sky backdrop and strewn leaves...it looked too dreadful and the FAUST photographer. We were scurried off that set to a dancing. I can surely tell you that the extras they have would make Sophie take a beauty prize. Commented on same to Dog who sniffed if they had looks they wouldn't be extras. Still, in a German film ! We watched the dancing some and then to another set with Russians looking at a piano. There an enormous sort of giant fat man was trotted up to Kenneth as the Ufa English actor. I gazed fascinated as he seemed to grow bigger and bigger and Kenneth tactfully enquired and what do you play in this film. He answered proudly in a very German English. " I am de great lover. " At that we judged it prudent to amble hastily off the set. We then toured Ufa. Saw the street in Russia built up for the new Pabst film to be released next month. Also Rotwang's house, the staircase of escape, and much of the cathedral from Metropolis. Also setting of the second Weltskrieg. We stumbled through sand, over weeds, late violets, bits of film, boxes of Agfa, rust, rails, every conceivable jumble and jungle. Visited the biological place where they shoot the kultur and educational films and were introduced to an inhneumon, snake and leaf insects. All the cameras appear to be Debries. Everything very overlighted and the confusion terrible. Most of the sets are built up only to first stoy and then they reflect the rest with mirrors. It is vast, impersonal, crowded and desolate. Everyone shrugs their shoulders when you mention

Ellen Richter and says ah but she is old. They are mad on
these beastly crazy mazie films. Marc says that he liked
Vienna and that they have better studios than here but no money
to work them. That Budapest is awful but they get immediate
release of all the good films. He had been trotting Mousjukine
around Budapest. He, Marc, got poisoned there. Vienna was
quiet but not sad and he liked it. He and we also, probably, will
have dinner Friday.

Got your wire when we got in. The words at Neubabelsberg,
which is also a town, were nice but one could not get a chance in
the crowd to ask the questions one wanted. They know nothing except
of their own films. The Yorkshire Post man was keen to know about
CLOSE UP. He is a friend of Ernest Betts. Marc was very sniffy
about the studios. He says they use Debries everywhere.

Much love and many barks, I enclose letter from Dorothy
Richardson. Dont bother to keep,

Love,

Brigitte Helm has got engaged to a " perfectly terrible man."
She is going this year to United Artists, Hollywood.

Dear Horse,

Dog and I had long argument respecting Vienna and Berlin
and Dog ended by being perturbed Saluki with ears and tail on floor
saying almost with tears " you and the Lynx will get together
and I shan't be able to come here any more and it means more to me
than any place in the world. " So I guess we shall have to see
that Herr Dog comes here for a visit at least twice a year. But
it is so queerly and utterly American. can Dog says here he can be
great creative artist. He probably again. It appears that Lang
is Austrian, Pabst no doubt as well, and almost all the film people.
They come from Austria but cant work there. Interesting. Sort of
emigration to Berlin in place of New York.

We had the Wright to dinner and how Dog talked. By the time
he had finished we - CLOSE UP - had twenty thousand readers. He said
so ! We were given much dirt on the private life of the Langs in
best film manner. The Wright herself carries Liedke's phtograph around!
but we suspect her to be playing innocent. Everybody in Lang's new
picture including himself have to be on the set by eight and it is miles
out of Berlin. Lang does not like getting up early. Most German
school girls kiss Jack Trevor's photography before sleeping ! Cant
say much for their taste. And so on.

We are now waiting for Pabst. We think he is rather fat
and maniac depressive. I am going to try to interview him. No
time to write more now, it is very early. Going now to look for
letters but they generally arrive at eleven.

Love,

Fieola.

Oh, my darling Lynx,

A most cute &
quite lovely elderly
brindling with mind
dirt
said That
very easy
on
Fido
and a gorgeous
giggle
sets
Now, producing
amid many
cities
there
at 8
when he did
arriving at
his own
-a nice
dog
gone
masculine
!!
Friday
!!
our own
Lovely

E28310.1927J

Probably now I shall fall for Berlin.

I went ahead downstairs to get the mail and as I was reading your letter
saw a FIDO, a fat, middle aged, but immistakable maniac-depressive
Fido, looking worried and saying " WO ist Herr Macpherson ? " So I
fell on him and said " Herr Pabst " and we fell almost into each other's
paws, saying together " but this is the greatest pleasure. " Then DOG
strolled in best movie manner down staircase and brought us both too.

" My car, the studios, my films, my thoughts", all are at your disposal" said the Middle sized FIDO. " ah, how my friends and I have discussed CLOSE UP. It is so funny, so furchtbar funny, you permit, that an Englishman should have written it. The thing we all desire, the paper that expresses our inmost psychological thoughts and an Englishman had done it. Ha...ha... you perceive, do you not, how furchtbar funny it is. Ha...ha...had I said tell me, who IS H.D.? Who writes under those initials? Ah, how he has understood Joyless Street. And poor little Greta Garbo. Ah, so sad. Ah, how funny, that an Englishman should have started CLOSE UP. For English films.....!!!!!!!!! And exactly who is H.D. ? "

We plunged into a swift and reckless
auto and dashed out to Neubabelsberg. I will try to condescnse information
Joyless Street was made with French money, in thirty four days, in ten
thousand feet. One time they worked thirty six hours without any one
leaving the set. Always they worked sixteen hours a day. In
Vienna they cut out Werner Kraus completely. Somewhere else, Russia I
think, they made the bourgeois the murderer instead of the girl. In
France they cut the whole street out and the figures in it. In Germany
only year after it was showing, the censorship tried to forbid it. Pabst
tried all over Germany and Europe to get Greta Garbo a job and nobody
would take her so in desperation she went to the States. She is
much influenced by Stiller, who makes her play vamp parts to get more
money. She always likes to be a vamp, being as Pabst remarked so
entirely not one by nature. She is exactly twenty one. Her last
American pictures are a tragedy. She gets paid thousand dollars a week.

Pabst comes from Vienna and worked in theatres ( no explanation of where, what or how ) for almost all his life. Suddenly decided four years ago theatres were finished and that the film was the future, and made has made six since, Joyless Street was his third. He did not do the Hands of Orlac. He has done the Freud film, Joyless Street, the new one which we may see bits of, on the Crimea, one with Henny Porten of Violanta fame, one with Lily Damita, and one other.

He is an ardent pacifist, very pro-Russian, says he is taking us to the Soviet place to see Russian films. Students in the street make him sick for they are keeping on the old militaristic traditions. He believes in hope, the people, pacifism and psycho-analysis. His great friend is Hans Sach, the psycho-analyst whose work happily I know. He is of Vienna. For five years he kept on his flat there for he feared if he gave it up his old life, his link with Wien, would be broken. It was a gracious city. He has just given up his Wien flat. He lived a year in Zurich. He admires most of all English life and dreams of England ??? He has never been there but talks excellent English and reads English books much.

Joyless Street was truth. If only people knew the truth. He is hurt by American film criticism that the Street was false. It was true. War was the mixture of hunger and erotic feelings. Paris has changed. He could not work in Paris though he likes it. Or liked it.

Then he burst forth over CLOSE UP. The German commercial films have given up and decided everything is to be made to American programme. Every film must have a happy ending. " Now, now, that the Americans themselves are making tragedies. " There is a private secret organisation of the trade directors being formed to fight the cutting that goes on. A friend of his made a pacifist picture. It was taken from him, transferred into a we want war one, then held up so that the Big Parade and What Price Glory should be shown here first and so has been a dead failure. Pabst fought every day for his picture but a lost has been spoilt. Hoffmann of Faust, he Pabst, are now both going to make their own pictures. Fritz Lang is making his own too. German pictures will be the worst in the world if they go on in present way. They won't give Camilla Horn another job so she is going to America.

Out at Neubabelsburg we stumbled on to men in armour
riding round on horseback and a whole set for " Martin
Luther. " From there on to next set where they were
working a rain machine, quite funny, on old horse and
cab with star inside. From there on to our friend
" de great lover " where Pabst pointed us out a Russian
who had killed dozens of men in the war. Very small but ferocious.
And then on to the Lang studio where the mob are not allowed where
Lang was directing scene for his next super film. And both
dogs decided they would much, much, much rather not have anything
to do with Lang. He is quite impossible. Heavily homo and
most conceited. Pabst, truly Fideful over dirt, he just loves
it for its own sake, said so sweetly but so maliciously that it
was wonderful to notice the change in Lang since he was making a
film with his own money. Always on the set now by nine...it
used to be twelve and always snapped up to the minute. Then
past the war film being shot " very bad, very militaristic "
snapped our friend to his car again. The German war pictures
deal only with the officer point of view, growled Pabst, it is
significant. The American pictures deal with the soldiers, and
that is better.

He finds Fuetterer too feminine and is evidently repressed
so does not approve of so stuff. Funny.

DOG says please do not spill any of the above information
to Harang or anyone till we have used it in CLOSE UP. We are
apparently to live with Pabst and Mrs Pabst till we leave Berlin.

Loved your letter. Sorry the Wolf nibbled the Lynix
whiskers. Must stop now as Dog squeals for typewriter.

Love,

Wrote Alice that she must wait to clean till later.

29th October.

Dear Horse,

Dogs are annihilated. We thought

Hoppla, wir leben, was quite a light cheerful entertainment. Everybody said we must see it as it was a mixture of play and film. Instead... oh, instead we fell into a Red Flag Communistic Down With The World play of excessively violent and gloomy tendencies. Marc came to dinner und went with us. We entered on film. A large stage and large curtain from top to bottom. More than life size figures. Incessant ( very good this ) tom-tom orchestra in box at side. Soldiers. Realistic war shots. Men stabbing. Revolution. Soldiers fling their arms away, tear off buttons, medals, throw them in heaps. Why War? Trains start backward. A man rubs out " Nach Paris " and writes up on engine in chaulk " by the workers' wishes, nach Berlin. The Unter den Linden. No food. The German Revolution.

Suddenly just as one was excited to best
A big Parade pitch, up goes curtain. Group of revolutionaries.
Men and women. For ten days they have been waiting to be shot. The
slightest incident gets on their nerves. Two fight. One weeks.
One gries for a parson. One grumbles. Soldier enters. Moment
to die has come. They are pardoned in general amnesty. One refuses
apardon. One - most realistically - goes mad.

Curtain drops again. Eight years elapse
on film. A big clock with each successive year. News shots
of the time. The arrest warrant of the author of the play, Toller.
Mussolini's march on Rome. The General Strike in London. Explosions
in factories mixed with shots of old lady drinking cocktails, a
Japanese spaniel, boxers, motor races, dancers. Famine in Russia,
warships.

Up shoots curtain. The man who went mad
has become sane and after eight years is being released. Doctor
puts psycho-analytical questions. Now he remembers everything, he
is cured. His clothes are returned to him. Has he friends? He

remembers his wife and the friend who refused a pardon. Who was the friend. Hearing the name, the doctor laughs. Down falls screen again.

He passes out of madhouse yard, is beweieldered by traffic, cannot find work, all this in pictures. Finally reaches house of friend who had refused pardon to discover he is now Herr Excellenz, a minister and completely bourgeois. Scene of people waiting, fawning, on the minister, including country clergymen (?). The workman who had been mad, has row because his friend says compromise is necessary.

More cinema shots of Berlin and then again the play. The man has found his wife. She however says, she had worked for eight years and must be alone in a room. He says is marriage nothing. She says it is a beautiful play but that work is the important thing. He says he will go away, travel, forget his revolutionary plans, she says he will never be able to do that. She goes out and two children, or rather adolescents wander in. They talk and the man finds that they know nothing of the war beyond the name of a few battles. Good point this. So he gives them realistic story of the war, of how as a soldier he had heard someone crying in the night, for four days and four nights, most realistic howls, and everyone who went to the rescue was shot. The children listen, quite impressed but say at the finish " how dumb to think you could ever win such a war " and rush out to their own amusements. Screen drops, more flashes of a Berlin election. Curtains rises on German election scene. With flashes on back screen of election papers falling and falling and the results coming out by loud speaker.

End of first act.

Everyone around us very Red and very, very earnest. Programme full of Communist quotations. We decide that what Communism lacks is a sense of humor. Film we think, holds us, but the dramatic effect immediately weakens when curtain goes up on people. No ventilation.

Curtain goes up on second act.

A completely earnest but completely preposterous female in black robe bursts into song, " Hoppla, wir leben. " With very bloodthirsty words. When will you reckon with us ? The blood of our hearts. Justice. Reckoning. We don't know how, why or where we live but Hoppla, wir leben. Loud applause.

The once-mad workman wonders if he ought to kill the minister. In the meantime a student belonging to the old monarchical regime decides he also from the opposition point of view must kill the minister. Next scene is a hotel. The whole thing is built up - in almost every scene - with revolving stage and scaffolding. On left bottom is kitchen with once-mad workman as waitor. Above dining room with minister and friends. Above highx at top and looking so precarious everyone seems nervous the whole xing affair may collapse on audience, is the radio operator. Below him, long but not wide screen. On other side, accomplice of man who wants to shoot minister. Lights go up as action shifts from one bit to the other but confusion in darkness as people crawls up and down quite visible ladders to get to the different rooms. Everyone has political fit. Views of the whole world, Lindbergh in Washington. motor races, aeroplanes, flash on and off middle screen. Waitor goes mad and rushes to shoot minister. Students intercepts him and gets in shot first. Student escapes. Waitor rushing out wondering, gets arrested. Scene shifts to police office. All the wrong people being brought in and questioned. Finally entrance of workman. They are not sure whether he is or is not mad.

Darkness. Row of Robot females or skeletons, most unpleasing, dance in in row. Above on screen, half of male's face gazing at them luridly. Light snaps up on the doctor in madhouse questioning workman. He does not mind about murder but he needs the motive. Why did the workman shoot ? He can speak freely. Workman protests he did not shoot. Series of NAKING up and down the scaffolding, not film. One man has speculated. He is ruined. " Normal " shouts the doctor. " Normal " answers the speculator. Workman below stairs has put savings in lottery. Loses. " Normal. " Something happens to the wireless operator. " Normal. " Doctor and workman have a scene - difference between madness and sanity. Doctor goes mad, jumps on back of workman and rides round shrinking. Guards rush in, doctor leaps to floor says " take him back to prison " and smiling to himself, says as lights go off " Normal"

The prison again. Everybody again in prison. The

workman at top says "I cannot wait again. I cannot wait over again."
Takes towel and hangs himself. His friends in the other cells are
told that the real murderer has been captured. In a sort of sky
writing separate letters flash across light over screen. The
workman is not the murderer. He will be released. Not to-day the
guard replies, it is Sunday. All over the prison they knock to tell
him he will be free. As the knocks go on the words form in sky
writing on the screen. " He does not answer. " From all over
the knockings mount. Into a gigantic knock. They realise what
has happened. This terrible world must be destroyed. Curtain.

be

As may be imagined, this reduced us to speechlessness.
One waited merely for a Red Flag to be waved and general bonfire.
General opinion was that the play was awful but that the film came
across. Dog made the interesting comment that they howled against
war with the same completely non-understanding mob-hysteria that they
is shown by mobs howling for war. Every pacifist bit was hugely
applauded. But it was altogether pretty dire and most pre-Ibsen
1895ish in acting, in spite of the attempted modernity. There seemed
also a curious lack of humanity about the thing. Everybody getting
killed and going mad for an idea never completely expressed. How -
ever one would certainly not see anything of the sort in London and
the film bits came across awfully well.

We are now shivering to our puppy tails having been wakened
this morning by Pabst who has invited a few friends to meet us, at
his home at 8.30. Ow, ow, ow!

But we are both in love with Pabst. He is so right and
nice and Fideful.

We spent the morning at the museum where they have some
marvellous Greek stuff. Found and read large Dog's letter as
he wasn't dressed. Gave it him, having read it with interest.

No time for more now,

Much love,

October 30th.

Dear Horse,

Such an afternoon and evening for the dogs. First they went to the " King of Kings". Small Fido was so scared he did not know whether to stay or go but finally went. All the sub-titles here were Bible quotations. The beginning in color with prancing zebras was too de Millish and preposterous. Dog thought some of the end scenes rather good. It's long: - two hours. Fido watched and shivered. And when we came out we got the most awful taxi that went round corners on one wheel and shot us back here at thirty miles per hour through traffic.

Then shivering dogs nibbled dinner and taxi-ed out to chez Pabst. There we found Mrs Pabst. As might be imagined the middle sized Fido had picked the most cute monkey, utterly without brains but with the most exquisite hide. Dark, monkeyful, speaking a very excellent German, wealthy we imagine, and there is a puppy Pabst, a boy, aged three. We did not see him. Also was Hans Sach, the psycho-analyst, whose work happily I knew, and a great friend of Freud, also from Vienna. Meizner, formerly an architect, now a director, and Reinard who does scenarios. We hardly got into chairs when in arrived Jack Trevor and Mrs Trevor. The males surrounded Sir Dog and carried him to get a drink and fuss over him. Immediately the female Trevor and Mrs Pabst turned on me with enquiring eyes " and have you children and how many ? " And then they discussed maids, children, servants, kitchen, on and one and on, until by great good fortune I was rescued by Sachs who is hoping to go to Egypt. So I disappeared over his side and discussed the English temperament, psycho-analysis, Egypt, Greece, films for the rest of the evening. Then Pabst got out all his stills. " H. D. but H.D. was right, when he spoke of the Nordic ice-flower. Little Greta is that. She is a little girl. She will never be as she was. " Throwing stills at us. " H. D. has understood but he, she has understood. "

The girl like Berenice in Joyless Street, who was so good walked from studio to studio for a year, a whole year, after Joyless street and could not get work. She has been in films since but never very good. Another of the girls was quite a well known dancer. Pabst says you

must not blame Hollywood too much for Greta as she wanted to play
vamps herself. But he would not let her. Sachs says he is a
wonderful director.

In his new film he has a wonderful Swedish male, the detective
from Metropolis, the girl from the Chess Player, and Brigitte Helm,
whom they say he has made more wonderful than she was with Lang.

But alas ! ... Who do you think Pabst's hero is. It is too
upsetting. Ronnie Colman. He will go anywhere to see Colman,
because he is so " manly. " " Ah, you English, you are so MANly.
We Germans have not a MANly type. " Trevor in corner with dyed
Johann gilt hair glitters.

And it appears that the great Berlin joke is Henny Porten. And
it appears that Pabst once made a film with her. And as they say, to
make a film with Henny Porten means that for four weeks for twelve hours
a day you hear nothing " Rosen auf den Suden. " And whenever a Porten
film is shown in Berlin as she jumps off precipice as she does in every
film somebody always shouts from gallery, " Henny nimmt der geiger mit."
Or dont forget your violinist. Pabst had some terribly funny stills
of some of the first German films made twenty years ago with her as a
child angel. So funny our home town should hit us like this.

And Pabst had some comic shots of waiting for the sun in Paris
during his last film. They waited ten days, for eleven hours a day,
on pavement, to get twenty five metres. And they filmed right inside
the market hidden behind cabbages in a cabbage wagon so nobody would
know there was film stuff around.

Dog has caught a cold. He wags his tail over Gaunt Island.
The female Trevor was too awful, " north Finchley " sniffs the Dog.
In green and gold dress to floor ! With long hair and sniffing at
short hair ! Oh but you are wrong Mr Pabst, she never cut her hair
for that film, she wore a wig !

We went to Boeklen exhibition and National gallery this morning.
Greetings from both dogs. They think they will be back a week to-day
if all is well sailing on Deutschland but not quite sure as they want to
see new Pabst film.

Barks, growls, from small

Adlon.
Berlin.
Tuesday.

Dear Horse,

Very hurried letter as we have to rush off to see a R.
picture just to tell you we had your Sat. and Sunday letters this
morning, that we went to Neubabelsburg and saw the new Pabst picture,
in uncensored form, most marvellous and that afterwards he motored
us to Potsdam where we had lunch, walked round palaces and have just
been dropped here on way to " From Bed to Sofa " a Russian film if
we can get to it.

Greta Garbo was so quick and nervous they could do nothing
with her in Joyless Street and she spoke almost no German, she had been
previously in one other picture. They photographed her finally by
X-ray turning far more quickly which slowed her movements down in
photographs.

Pabst was three years in New York, pre 14 and in theatres
there.

The new film is marvellous. Opens in the Crimea.
French (?) girl with White sympathy loves young Red soldier. Complica-
tions. Paris. Villain. Murder. Final meeting. The man is a
Swede, very intelligent looking. The girl is French. Brigitte
Helm - good - is a blind girl. Even the Trevor comes in for one tiny
scene. It is doubtful though if it is widely shown for it is too
real and the sympathy is obviously with the Red rather than with the
White. It is called " Die Liebe der Jeanne Ney. "

We leave for Hamburg first thing Monday Thursday but will
leave address here if letters come. Sail Friday, arrive Southampton
ten at night Saturday, London Sunday.

No more now,

Love,

Dear Horse,

Our last day here so our tails lag though we are both
anxious to see our dear Lynix and next time it MUST come with the
two Fidos. Pabst and Sachs made a lot of difference to Berlin
and they both tell us that we are in totally the wrong part of town.
Sachs wants to put us next time in a place where all his patients
stop and Pabst in a bunch hotel where all his Swedes etc stop while
he photographs them.

The tragedy of the Pabst is that he was caught the day
after war broke out landing innocently in Frogland and interned for
four years on a Channel Island, during which time he never saw a
female nor was ever left for one moment alone.

Sachs came last night with roses: - he is also a middle
sized Fido whose dream is that some fabulous Indian raja will become
neurotic, but intensely neurotic, will apply to Freud for an analyst
and that Freud will send him Sachs, to India for an indefinite period.

And the dirt ! he dished it up so carefully in morsels,
watching the effect on us....the choice bits I must keep till we see
you but I can assure you it was Berlin at its most lurid.

And I have thought of a two reel scenario - A Lynix,
agitated, stocking after stocking ( the censor wont have knickers )
on floor, beads, dresses confusion, why has lover not telephoned ?
He must come. But he may not. Irritation. Confusion.
A bell. Lynix runs down hall. He HAS come. Enter Miss Lewin
and both Jundts. Tea. Irritation increasing of Lynix. Takes
cigarette. Remembers smoking is impossible in front of Jundts.
Much concentration on old ladies. Finally doorbell. Ardent
Harang or ardent George, no, the Harang would be more naive and
better, dashes in with orchids ! Confusion. More perturbation
over tea cups. No time for zoo. Looking at watches. Old
ladies chatter. Finally they get up. I'm for happy ending and
close up of Harang in Lynix' arms but Dog suggests in sheer irritation
Lynix says to Junts but wont you say to dinner and they say " with
pleasure. " This is my own copyright however and Dog says maybe
I can make it after Christmas. He will photograph.

The Pabsts are coming to dinner and she cant speak English !

No more now,
Love,

RIANT CHATEAU
TERRITET
SUISSE

28th May

VILLA KENWIN
BURBURY, WEST

Kat darling,

Lotte turned up for dinner with a bottle of punguent Italian liqueur from White, and she and Koch and K. and Alice all got most merry, sent Jules away and stayed till midnight, and talked Borderline till finally as Rover said he found himself agreeing it was the most important film in Europe ! They thought the most important thing in it was your work and that you ought to do nothing but films and they are going to arrange a very private showing of it in Berlin and K. and they ought to make films next year. It all went off very well and Lotte got some blue georgette from me for a dress so then one was embraced all over and upside down, and they wandered off into the night in quite the wrong direction ! And I am never to dare to go to Berlin again unless I stay with them in White's room.

It was all most Berlin-ful. A Cardillac bigger than Dada's Rolls has just been sent away, and now we are about to try a Buick - new bigger model.

All being well I proposed return of Mog and R. from Calais in car with myself if I get to England. I must scoot as due shortly a Lausanne. Very busy with car, Lotte. R. leaving and family as you may imagine.

Damp, rainy etc.

Love to a Kat that I do suspect is not a very good Kat, it's only sensible remark for days has been about wanting measures for its Kenwin window.

Love,

1 South Audley Street

London W.1.

14th September

Kat darling,

Saw O.B. who is going to recite to Gwen Rrangwyn Davies something of yours - he mixed two lines on the bus and had hysterics but thought he would be alright for the audition - at midnight - to the old dame - on empty stage. I do wish I could have attended privately to see what happened. Rover - so odd - has banged to my filing case with key INSIDE. Fortunately I can get duplicate key from office. Looking forward to weekend and arrival at Kenwin. I see more housekeepers this morning. Kenneth thinks film too great a responsibility - It told him he was just bone lazy and he giggled. He says he doesn't like cold figures on paper. Idiot. I told him if he didn't hurry up I should make a film myself or buy a Moth共和国 aeroplane.

Buddy very excited about the new Violet Hunt book - will try to get it and the literature you want - I sent out the only other big J.L. Weston book I had.

Also thousands of pickels and 42 pounds of golden syrup. When the parcel arrives at Clarens station please have team fetch it as they charge per day it is left there. It is china. If team can't manage Francey the

official camioneur would bring it.

I think it is a good thing to get Rover out soon
as he goes all abstract, lazy and listless. He says I
malign him but it's true.

We shall - unless Pabst turns up - march toward
home with all possible speed. But it's a long trip.

Love, barks.

Have got new NOISELESS Remington

VILLA KENWIN

AURIER S/LA TOUR

VEVEY

SWITZERLAND

Téléphone: Vevey 12.63

30th August

Kat darling,

I had dinner with Mrs Powers, who has the same
tale to tell as Chaddie of the freezing out of lay analysts,
only she's had experience and isn't so " bitter " ! Then
to most interesting lecture on the analysis of a negro in
Jehannisburg. Only it lasted till a quarter to twelve.
I was with Turtle, and Mrs Powers and Dr Happel. An
American rushed up and made a speech of thanks to me for
having helped the Verlag : this happened last year and I
had forgotten all about it ! So American. The English
remain sniffy and refused to have the Fund mentioned or
intentionally forgot it. There was a fearful row
yesterday I hear in the business meeting about lots of things.
All the Norwegians nearly resigned.

To-day the Americans took the field and SWEPT
it - splendid papers. Zilboorg spoke brilliantly on
suicide. Savage races believe that a natural death means
death - they call it among Eskimos " the narrow land " but
suicide leads to immortality, the ENE unused life if you
get me, is lived out in paradise. Think he meant that
horror of suicide is purely civilization, not usually found
in primitive races. Then Meninger from Kansas followed
up with accidents as suicide prevention. They got
the biggest applause of meeting barring two papers.

Barbara Low may be here any minute. She says
Alan has driven Dorothy all but out of her mind. Intentional
forgetting. To-night, I hope to have dinner with a girl
who went into the wilds of Turkestan and nearly died there.
To-morrow I dine with Turtle and see him off. Lunch
with Mrs Powers. I hope to be back for lunch on Saturday.

No more but we talk of you ( Turtle and self )
and send love and greetings,

Please thank Pup for her letter with
enclosures,

Barks,

Anna

I am sure that so much comes from living in entirely the wrong way. They deny sex and work for women and the immuerable tiny sublimations are so unsatisfactory.

Lotte may turn up to-day - we hope she does and to-night I go out with Dog to the Rene Clair. If we can get a seat.

I dreamt last night that I started off for the States but when I got to the boat I had forgotten my letter of credit and had to return without sailing. Ah, said Dog professionally " you were afraid to leave without your reputation ".

D.P.T regretfully returns December 13th Doris has unearthed a farm not too far from the Lizard at Trenance. We may be able to go down next week. She wants to grow early asparagus, all very exciting. Pup begins her exams on Monday week and she phobes and I threaten. She has decided to go to the States, she tells me in January !

Bud is terribly worried about his leaflet which is very solemnly Budful. Dorothy Richardson thinks Sylvia Beach is running a new review in Paris. No other news.

Norman Douglas and Orioli are going to Goa in December.

November 16th

Kat darling,

Sorry p.a. appears to be so difficult. I cannot understand either wanting the analyst to be hidden, I love to try to watch Turtle's reactions and so forth, but I guess I am a tough small dog with very little " morbid shame " ! Kex confesses yesterday that Schmide had told him it was about time he faced up to life so he had told him where to get off at. I said what happened then and Dog said with just a suspicion of a grin " it ees ve-ry interesting that you use these words in thees situation." Dog says he wants to go to New York in January for three months, then come back and have three months Schmide, then South of France three months, three months Schmide etc, etc. At least he visualises the possibility of returning to S. which is something. Cole rang up to know when you would be over as she has to go to the country for a bit. I said I imagined around December 15th but didn't know for sure. We are or rather Dog is, working hard on Leowndes so that you can move there almost directly. Dog is over at 26 now, I just phoned him, measuring your stuff and deciding what can, and what cannot, be used.

Nurse is afraid Mamma has diabetes. Huge sugar content in urine but it may be the cold and Mamma doesn't know about it, and won't anyhow have a doctor. One's parents are terrible.