The Beast, lurking in ocean deep — 3rd excerpt from the Diaries of Herling-Grudzinski

Dragoneia is the name of a village near Naples where Herling had his summertime villa.

 

Dragoneia, July 14, 1977

Perhaps only in the country, where contact with nature is continuing, and where it is still the essence of life, has the Evil preserved a bit of its former character of something identifiable and autonomous; and with symbolism deriving from local traditions. The area surrounding Dragoneia is The Domain of The Snake. Last year, in the deep valley behind the village I saw a group of peasants renovating the tiny abandoned church which had been built there two centuries ago above an entrance to a dark cave to commemorate the long years of struggle which took place there between The Snake and the village’s saintly eremite.

Many years ago my neighbor did meet The Snake at the entrance to the cave beneath the castle in Cava: The Snake had a feathered head and fiery eyes. My neighbor became faint, his legs gave out uder him, he was barely able to summon the strength to fire at it from his shotgun. It was at high noon, the hour of the wild fire of the sun, so he could not be sure what chased off The Snake: the gunshot, or the pealing of bells at nearby churches. He barely managed to drag himself home, half-dead, he collapsed on his bed and during the next few days was unable to speak. His speech had turned into some sort of a devilish rattle. And now – I have witnessed this ever since I have begun to live here – he keeps disappearing for a few days at a time every now and then. People say he wanders without purpose; others — that he lies in wait at the entrance to the cave beneath the castle. He is, on a small scale, the local Ahab stalking the Dragoneian White Whale.

To the faithful sons of the soil and the sea, Melville, if only they knew him, would be easy to understand and believe. There is in them, beneath the thin veneer of Christianity — in any case mainly ritualistic — a kind of pagan-cum-Old-Testament cross of the vision of Evil: not the notion of a struggle between Good and Evil taking place in the soul of each of the faithful, but of the Beast, lurking in the deep of the ocean or the soil:  lying in wait for man.

Melville was a myth-maker writer, he did not care about psychology, he was attracted to Biblical parables. Moby Dick was his masterpiece, as powerful as the roar of the sea, and Billy Budd was his a short, deeply affecting swan song. Billy Budd – the incarnation of Good; Claggart – obsessed by Evil; De Vere who sacrifices an innocent boy at the Altar of the Law, like Abraham –  Isaac. In this beautiful Misterium For Three Voices, the Beautiful Sailor speaks with the voice of a barbarian.

Not that Billy Budd was unable, like children, to understand death; he simply did not feel any irrational fear of death, because this fear is far more common in civilized societies than in the so-called barbarian ones, which remain far closer to Nature; and, as we have said, Billy Budd was an authentic barbarian.

Melville loved the Good Barbarian for the unadorned simplicity of his soul. The Christian soul is confused and helpless, since in her fear of death she lacks the acceptance of death. The natural soul is defined by one single inborn response: of horror before the mystery of Evil.

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