Sometimes in Trafalgar Square .
By ARNOST LUSTIG* THE world we live in has given a new mean- ing to the word 'travel.' Maps no longer show white patches inscribed 'hic suns 'cones,' although that is not altogether the case with human relationships. An English lady I met in a London library exclaimed with astonishment : 'You come from Czechoslovakia? Oh, how splendid! l've never met anyone from your country before!' I might have replied that I had never been to Britain before either, or that even Shakespeare imagined my country had a coastline. That, however, would not have been altogether fair: she was right, and her surprise was tempered with regret—and, in any case, she was hardly to be blamed for the fact that people living only an hour and a half apart by jet know so little about one another.
I would like to assure the readers of this article that if 1 were writing this for a Prague audience, I'd never dream of starting in this way. When I came back from London last year and friends asked me about my impressions, it did not occur to me to quote the lady in the library who had never met a live Czech. On the contrary, I invariably called to mind a sunlit scene in Trafalgar Square, on a July Sunday, with the streets full of people taking a leisurely stroll. In Trafalgar Square the idyll soon became a non- idyll. Cordons of London's policemen, tradi- tionally so courteous to foreigners, were being less than courteous to their own countrymen. It soon transpired that the local fascists had occupied the centre of the Square, and the police were there to see that they should not be de- prived of the freedom of expression. All was well until the fascist speaker declared that it was high time Britain called to power its Adolf Hitler to put the country to rights. The Sunday strollers broke through the police cordons and showed the fascists what they thought of theni. Now, I do not mean this to sound rude, but I would not have exchanged that moment even for an invitation to Buckingham Palace. I was suddenly at home among these people; I was one of them.
Up till then Great Britain had, in spite of everything, been something of an unknown country to me, a country about which there exist many unjust prejudices and misconcep- tions. A book of mine had been published here, I had received an invitation to visit London, but, to be on the safe side, I warned my family to expect me back by the first plane in case I came up against the proverbial British cold shoulder. But I found no evidence of this bony object during my stay in this country. I arrived here knowing a little about British history, about the battle that took place near Hastings almost nine centuries ago; but far deeper was the con- sciousness of more recent British misdeeds, such as the pre-Munich carryings-on of Lord Runci- man, who offered my country to Adolf Hitler * Arnost Lustig is one of the best known' of younger Czech writers. He has just visited this country on his way from Locarno where he won a prize for his film Night and Hope, based on a novel published here last year by Hutchinson, who will bring out another novel, Dita Saxe, in the spring.. as if it were an hors d'oeuvre to whet his appe- tite for a bigger meal east of Prague. Up till then Britain to me was a country about which every pro was immediately offset by a con: true, during the war they had raised the name of Lidice from the ashes, but now, seventeen years later, they allowed the tanks of the Bundeswehr to plough up British military ranges. Then I found myself in Trafalgar Square, where 'men- in-the-street,' the ordinary Londoners, were show- ing the world what they really thought.
What is London like to someone from Cen- tral Europe? It is a well-organised city in a well-organised country, a country that has much to be said for it. Perhaps the British have an exaggerated reverence for everything that is old and traditional, but this is only an expression of their inborn pride that for almost a thousand years none but the British have been running this place. Undoubtedly there is no other coun- try in the world with so well developed a sense of humour and with so great a capacity for self- criticism. Sitting in the Visitors' Gallery of the House of Commons, I heard an Opposition spokesman use a famous opening phrase which bears the hallmark of originality, even though it may have been uttered a hundred times: 'The honourable gentleman opposite has spoken at some length, but I fear he hasn't said any- thing.' I am told.. that Queen Elizabeth and Mr. Macmillan went to see the same show at the Establishment which 1 had the pleasure of seeing last year and which provided a satire on various aspects of 'the Establishment,' including the Prime Minister himself. All this is very wise.
Most valuable of all are encounters with people. People are basically much the same the world over, they seek friendship and mutual understanding. During a debate with the retired Colonel C we soon found ourselves deep in a friendly argument. Colonel C is a veteran of both the World Wars and has been through a great deal between the wars as well as since; he has finally come to the conclusion that it would be best for society if it were organised in a similar way to the jungle, with the strong de- vouring the weak in order to keep things balanced. Present-day British literature, of course, adopts a different outlook. The writers on the whole seem to prefer a human society run on different principles from the law of the jungle.
During my present visit to London I saw Oh, What a Lovely War, which seems to me to excel anything I've seen of this kind. The actors, who play with great gusto and intelli- gence, are young people who have not themselves been through a war, but who daily experience the general fear of a possible war to come. According to the American Secretary of Defence, each of the great powers has a stockpile of some 30,000 atom bombs available. That is sufficient for horror as well as for wisdom—and both these are very much in evidence in this play. People are born for life and not for death; they deserve respect and hope. In Prague as well as in London. And everywhere else.
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