Authors: Bill Johnston Witold Gombrowicz
Bacacay (23 page)
No, I do not wish to know.
I do not wish to know and I have no desire whatsoever for hot weather or glamour and luxury.
And I would prefer not to go out on deck for fear of seeing something ...
something that previously had been obscure, hidden, and unspoken, now parading in all its brazenness amid peacock feathers and the hot glare.
Because from the beginning everything was mine, and I, I was just like everything—the exterior is a mirror in which the inside can be observed!
I do not wish to know and I have no desire whatsoever for hot weather or glamour and luxury.
And I would prefer not to go out on deck for fear of seeing something ...
something that previously had been obscure, hidden, and unspoken, now parading in all its brazenness amid peacock feathers and the hot glare.
Because from the beginning everything was mine, and I, I was just like everything—the exterior is a mirror in which the inside can be observed!
Philidor’s Child Within
The prince of the most gloriously famous synthesists of all time was without a doubt the senior synthesist Philidor, professor of Synthetology at the University of Leyden, who hailed from the southern regions of Annam.
He operated in the lofty spirit of Higher Synthesis, using the addition of +infinity, and in cases of emergency also using multiplication by +infinity.
He was a man of respectable height and impressive rotundity, with an unkempt beard and the face of a prophet in eyeglasses.
But a mental phenomenon of such magnitude could not fail to evoke in nature its counter-phenomenon, along the lines of the Newtonian principle of action and reaction; for this very reason an equally outstanding Analyst was soon born in Colombo and, completing his doctorate at Columbia University and receiving a professorship there, quickly rose to the highest ranks of an academic career.
He was a lean, diminutive, clean-shaven man with the face of a skeptic in
eyeglasses, whose sole inner mission was to hound and confound the eminent Philidor.
He operated in the lofty spirit of Higher Synthesis, using the addition of +infinity, and in cases of emergency also using multiplication by +infinity.
He was a man of respectable height and impressive rotundity, with an unkempt beard and the face of a prophet in eyeglasses.
But a mental phenomenon of such magnitude could not fail to evoke in nature its counter-phenomenon, along the lines of the Newtonian principle of action and reaction; for this very reason an equally outstanding Analyst was soon born in Colombo and, completing his doctorate at Columbia University and receiving a professorship there, quickly rose to the highest ranks of an academic career.
He was a lean, diminutive, clean-shaven man with the face of a skeptic in
eyeglasses, whose sole inner mission was to hound and confound the eminent Philidor.
He operated by breakdown, and his speciality was breaking down a person with the aid of calculations, especially with the aid of flicks.
And with the aid of flicks to the nose he stimulated the nose to independent existence, causing it to move spontaneously in every direction, to the consternation of its owner.
He often performed this trick in the tram during moments of tedium.
Following the voice of his most deep-rooted calling, he set off in pursuit of Philidor, and in a small town in Spain he even managed to acquire the aristocratic appellation of Anti-Philidor, of which he was extraordinarily proud.
Philidor, having learned that the other man was after him, naturally also set off in pursuit, and for a considerable time both scholars pursued one another to no avail, for pride prevented either of them from accepting that he was not only the pursuer but also the pursued.
And accordingly when, for instance, Philidor was in Bremen, Anti-Philidor would rush to Bremen from the Hague, unable or unwilling to take into consideration the fact that at the same time and with the same purpose Philidor was leaving Bremen for the Hague on an express train.
The collision of the two speeding scholars—a disaster on the order of the greatest railway disasters—took place entirely by chance on the premises of the first-rate restaurant at the Hotel Bristol in Warsaw.
Philidor, accompanied by Mrs.
Philidor, was holding the railway timetable in his hand and was just working out the best connections when Anti-Philidor burst in breathlessly straight from the train with his analytical traveling companion, Flora Gente of Messina, on his arm.
We, that is, the assistant professors
present, Doctors Theophile Poklewski, Theodore Roklewski and myself, realizing the gravity of the situation, immediately set about taking notes.
And with the aid of flicks to the nose he stimulated the nose to independent existence, causing it to move spontaneously in every direction, to the consternation of its owner.
He often performed this trick in the tram during moments of tedium.
Following the voice of his most deep-rooted calling, he set off in pursuit of Philidor, and in a small town in Spain he even managed to acquire the aristocratic appellation of Anti-Philidor, of which he was extraordinarily proud.
Philidor, having learned that the other man was after him, naturally also set off in pursuit, and for a considerable time both scholars pursued one another to no avail, for pride prevented either of them from accepting that he was not only the pursuer but also the pursued.
And accordingly when, for instance, Philidor was in Bremen, Anti-Philidor would rush to Bremen from the Hague, unable or unwilling to take into consideration the fact that at the same time and with the same purpose Philidor was leaving Bremen for the Hague on an express train.
The collision of the two speeding scholars—a disaster on the order of the greatest railway disasters—took place entirely by chance on the premises of the first-rate restaurant at the Hotel Bristol in Warsaw.
Philidor, accompanied by Mrs.
Philidor, was holding the railway timetable in his hand and was just working out the best connections when Anti-Philidor burst in breathlessly straight from the train with his analytical traveling companion, Flora Gente of Messina, on his arm.
We, that is, the assistant professors
present, Doctors Theophile Poklewski, Theodore Roklewski and myself, realizing the gravity of the situation, immediately set about taking notes.
Anti-Philidor walked up to the table and in silence, using only his gaze attacked the professor, who stood up.
Each attempted to impose his will mentally upon the other.
The Analyst drove coldly from beneath; the Synthesist responded from above, with a look full of hardy dignity.
When the duel of stares produced no definitive results, the two mental foes began a duel of words.
The doctor and master of Analysis said:
Each attempted to impose his will mentally upon the other.
The Analyst drove coldly from beneath; the Synthesist responded from above, with a look full of hardy dignity.
When the duel of stares produced no definitive results, the two mental foes began a duel of words.
The doctor and master of Analysis said:
“Noodles!”
The synthetologist responded:
“Noodle!”
Anti-Philidor roared:
“Noodles, noodles: that is, the combination of flour, eggs and water!”
While Philidor parried at once with:
“Noodle, that is, the higher essence of the Noodle, the supreme Noodle itself!”
His eyes flashed thunderbolts and his beard waved; it was clear that he was the victor.
The Professor of Higher Analysis took several steps back in helpless rage, but immediately afterward he hit upon a terrible cerebral notion, namely, the sickly weakling, in the presence of Philidor himself, attacked his wife, whom the worthy old professor loved above all else.
Here is the further course of the encounter according to the Minutes:
The Professor of Higher Analysis took several steps back in helpless rage, but immediately afterward he hit upon a terrible cerebral notion, namely, the sickly weakling, in the presence of Philidor himself, attacked his wife, whom the worthy old professor loved above all else.
Here is the further course of the encounter according to the Minutes:
1.
Mrs.
Philidor, the Professor’s wife, is extremely plump, podgy, rather stately; she sits, says nothing, concentrates.
Mrs.
Philidor, the Professor’s wife, is extremely plump, podgy, rather stately; she sits, says nothing, concentrates.
2.
Professor Anti-Philidor took up a position opposite the professor’s
wife with his cerebral lens and began to stare at her with a gaze that undressed her completely.
Mrs.
Philidor shuddered from cold and shame.
Professor Philidor silently wrapped a traveling rug around her and cast a withering glance filled with boundless contempt at his arrogant opponent.
Yet at the same time he betrayed signs of unease.
Professor Anti-Philidor took up a position opposite the professor’s
wife with his cerebral lens and began to stare at her with a gaze that undressed her completely.
Mrs.
Philidor shuddered from cold and shame.
Professor Philidor silently wrapped a traveling rug around her and cast a withering glance filled with boundless contempt at his arrogant opponent.
Yet at the same time he betrayed signs of unease.
3.
Then Anti-Philidor declared quietly: “The ear, the ear!”
and burst out in derisive laughter.
Under the influence of these words the ear was brought to light and became indecent.
Philidor instructed his wife to pull her hat over her ears, but this did little good, for Anti-Philidor muttered as if to himself: “Two nostrils,” in this way laying bare the nostrils of the venerable Professor’s wife in a manner that was as shameless as it was analytical.
The situation was becoming perilous, especially because covering the nostrils was out of the question.
Then Anti-Philidor declared quietly: “The ear, the ear!”
and burst out in derisive laughter.
Under the influence of these words the ear was brought to light and became indecent.
Philidor instructed his wife to pull her hat over her ears, but this did little good, for Anti-Philidor muttered as if to himself: “Two nostrils,” in this way laying bare the nostrils of the venerable Professor’s wife in a manner that was as shameless as it was analytical.
The situation was becoming perilous, especially because covering the nostrils was out of the question.
4.
The Professor of Leyden threatened to call the police.
The scales of victory had visibly begun to tip toward the side of Colombo.
The Master of Analysis said cerebrally: “Fingers, fingers of the hand, five fingers.”
The Professor of Leyden threatened to call the police.
The scales of victory had visibly begun to tip toward the side of Colombo.
The Master of Analysis said cerebrally: “Fingers, fingers of the hand, five fingers.”
Alas, the largeness of the Professor’s wife was not large enough to conceal the fact that suddenly revealed itself to those present in all its unheard-of luridness: the fact of the fingers of the hand.
The fingers were there, five on each side.
Mrs.
Philidor, utterly defiled, attempted with what strength she still had to pull on her gloves, but—a quite incredible thing—the Doctor of Colombo hastily performed an analysis of her urine and exclaimed with a victorious roar:
The fingers were there, five on each side.
Mrs.
Philidor, utterly defiled, attempted with what strength she still had to pull on her gloves, but—a quite incredible thing—the Doctor of Colombo hastily performed an analysis of her urine and exclaimed with a victorious roar:
“H
2
OC
4
, TPS, a few leucocytes, and some proteins!”
2
OC
4
, TPS, a few leucocytes, and some proteins!”
Everyone stood up.
Professor Anti-Philidor moved away with his lover, who snorted with vulgar laughter, while Professor Philidor, aided by the undersigned, took his wife without delay to the hospital.
Signed: T.
Poklewski, T.
Roklewski, and Anthony Świstak, assistant professors.
Professor Anti-Philidor moved away with his lover, who snorted with vulgar laughter, while Professor Philidor, aided by the undersigned, took his wife without delay to the hospital.
Signed: T.
Poklewski, T.
Roklewski, and Anthony Świstak, assistant professors.
The next day we gathered, Roklewski, Poklewski, the Professor, and I, at the sick bed of Mrs.
Philidor.
Her breakdown was steadily progressing.
Touched by Anti-Philidor’s analytic hand, she was slowly losing her inner cohesion.
From time to time she merely groaned softly: “I leg, I ear, leg, my ear, finger, head, leg”—as if bidding farewell to parts of her body that were already starting to move of their own accord.
Her personhood was in its death throes.
We all racked our brains in search of some means of immediate succour.
There were no such means.
After conferring among ourselves and also with Associate Professor S.
Lopatkin, who flew in from Moscow at 7:40, we once again acknowledged the unavoidable necessity of the most extreme synthetic, scientific methods.
There were no such methods.
But then Philidor concentrated all his powers of thought, to such an extent that the rest of us took a step back, and said:
Philidor.
Her breakdown was steadily progressing.
Touched by Anti-Philidor’s analytic hand, she was slowly losing her inner cohesion.
From time to time she merely groaned softly: “I leg, I ear, leg, my ear, finger, head, leg”—as if bidding farewell to parts of her body that were already starting to move of their own accord.
Her personhood was in its death throes.
We all racked our brains in search of some means of immediate succour.
There were no such means.
After conferring among ourselves and also with Associate Professor S.
Lopatkin, who flew in from Moscow at 7:40, we once again acknowledged the unavoidable necessity of the most extreme synthetic, scientific methods.
There were no such methods.
But then Philidor concentrated all his powers of thought, to such an extent that the rest of us took a step back, and said:
“The cheek!
A slap on the cheek, and a sound one at that—this alone of all the parts of the body is capable of restoring my wife’s good name and synthesizing the scattered elements into some higher honorable meaning of clap and slap.
To work then!”
A slap on the cheek, and a sound one at that—this alone of all the parts of the body is capable of restoring my wife’s good name and synthesizing the scattered elements into some higher honorable meaning of clap and slap.
To work then!”
But the world-renowned Analyst was not so easily found in the city.
It was only in the evening that he let himself be caught in a first-rate bar.
In a state of sober inebriation he was emptying
one bottle after another; and the more he drank, the soberer he became, and his analytic lover too.
In fact, they were getting drunker on sobriety than on alcohol.
When we walked in the waiters, pale as ghosts, were cowering behind the counter, while the two of them, in silence, were devoting themselves to some otherwise undefined orgies of cold blood.
We formed a plan of action.
The professor was to begin by making a feint with his right hand to the left cheek, then was to strike the right with his left hand, while we—that is, Assistant Professors of Warsaw University Poklewski, Roklewski, and I, along with Associate Professor Lopatkin —were to begin at once keeping the minutes.
The plan was simple and the action uncomplicated.
But the Professor’s raised hand dropped back down.
And we, the witnesses, were dumbstruck.
There was no cheek!
I repeat, there was no cheek; there were only two rosebuds and something like a vignette involving doves!
It was only in the evening that he let himself be caught in a first-rate bar.
In a state of sober inebriation he was emptying
one bottle after another; and the more he drank, the soberer he became, and his analytic lover too.
In fact, they were getting drunker on sobriety than on alcohol.
When we walked in the waiters, pale as ghosts, were cowering behind the counter, while the two of them, in silence, were devoting themselves to some otherwise undefined orgies of cold blood.
We formed a plan of action.
The professor was to begin by making a feint with his right hand to the left cheek, then was to strike the right with his left hand, while we—that is, Assistant Professors of Warsaw University Poklewski, Roklewski, and I, along with Associate Professor Lopatkin —were to begin at once keeping the minutes.
The plan was simple and the action uncomplicated.
But the Professor’s raised hand dropped back down.
And we, the witnesses, were dumbstruck.
There was no cheek!
I repeat, there was no cheek; there were only two rosebuds and something like a vignette involving doves!
Anti-Philidor had predicted and anticipated Philidor’s plans with devilish cunning.
This sober Bacchus had tattooed on his cheeks two rosebuds on each side and something like a vignette involving doves!
As a consequence the cheeks, and along with them the slap on the cheek intended by Philidor, lost all meaning, let alone a higher one.
In essence a slap on the cheek administered to rosebuds and doves was not a slap on the cheek—it was more like striking wallpaper.
Not wishing to allow the widely respected pedagogue and educator of youth to make a fool of himself by hitting wallpaper because his wife was sick, we firmly discouraged him from actions he would later regret.
This sober Bacchus had tattooed on his cheeks two rosebuds on each side and something like a vignette involving doves!
As a consequence the cheeks, and along with them the slap on the cheek intended by Philidor, lost all meaning, let alone a higher one.
In essence a slap on the cheek administered to rosebuds and doves was not a slap on the cheek—it was more like striking wallpaper.
Not wishing to allow the widely respected pedagogue and educator of youth to make a fool of himself by hitting wallpaper because his wife was sick, we firmly discouraged him from actions he would later regret.
“You cur!”
roared the old man.
“You despicable, oh, despicable, despicable cur!”
roared the old man.
“You despicable, oh, despicable, despicable cur!”
“You pile!”
retorted the Analyst with fearful analytic pride.
“I’m a pile too.
If you like, kick me in the stomach.
You won’t kick
me
in the stomach; you’ll just kick in the stomach—and nothing more.
You meant to accost a cheek with a slap on the cheek?
You can accost a cheek, but not mine—not mine!
I don’t exist at all!
I don’t exist!”
retorted the Analyst with fearful analytic pride.
“I’m a pile too.
If you like, kick me in the stomach.
You won’t kick
me
in the stomach; you’ll just kick in the stomach—and nothing more.
You meant to accost a cheek with a slap on the cheek?
You can accost a cheek, but not mine—not mine!
I don’t exist at all!
I don’t exist!”
“I’ll accost one day!
God willing, I shall!”
God willing, I shall!”
“For the moment they’re impregnated!”
laughed Anti-Philidor.
Flora Gente, who was sitting nearby, burst into laughter; the cosmic doctor of the two analyses cast her an sensuous look and left.
Flora Gente, however, remained.
She was sitting on a high stool and gazing at us with the creeping eyes of an utterly analyzed parrot and cow.
Right away, at 8:40, we—Professor Philidor, the two medics, Associate Professor Lopatkin and I—began a conference together.
As usual, Associate Professor Lopatkin held the pen.
The conference took the following course.
laughed Anti-Philidor.
Flora Gente, who was sitting nearby, burst into laughter; the cosmic doctor of the two analyses cast her an sensuous look and left.
Flora Gente, however, remained.
She was sitting on a high stool and gazing at us with the creeping eyes of an utterly analyzed parrot and cow.
Right away, at 8:40, we—Professor Philidor, the two medics, Associate Professor Lopatkin and I—began a conference together.
As usual, Associate Professor Lopatkin held the pen.
The conference took the following course.
ALL THREE DOCTORS OF LAW
In light of the preceding, we see no possibility of resolving the dispute by an affair of honor and we advise the Esteemed Professor to ignore the insult as coming from a person incapable of satisfying his honor.
PROF.
PHILIDOR
PHILIDOR
Even if I ignore it, my wife is dying over there.
ASSOC.
PROF.
S.
LOPATKIN
PROF.
S.
LOPATKIN
Your wife cannot be saved.
DR.
PHILIDOR
PHILIDOR
Don’t say that, don’t say that!
Yes, a slap on the cheek is the only medicine.
But there is no cheek.
There are no cheeks.
There is no means for divine synthesis.
There is no honor!
There is no God!
Yes, but there are cheeks!
There is the cheek!
God!
Honor!
Synthesis!
Yes, a slap on the cheek is the only medicine.
But there is no cheek.
There are no cheeks.
There is no means for divine synthesis.
There is no honor!
There is no God!
Yes, but there are cheeks!
There is the cheek!
God!
Honor!
Synthesis!
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