Ariadne in the Grotesque Labyrinth (Catalan Literature) (10 page)

«
A woman in love provided me with the opportunity of meeting the demon.
»
«
What arts did you make use of, warlock?
»
asked Mel
à
nia, who wanted me to initiate her.
«
Needle, mud and a little bit of blood, sinister weapons. I won
’
t tell you, my love, the crime that has allowed me to cross your door,
»
I said to her.
«
Gutruda came to find me.

“
He hosts a dance and presents a ballet, a ballet of hypotheses. The
Six dames en noir
will be there,
”
Gutruda warned.

»
We walked along a path surrounded by abysses.

“
Throw stones. For the dead,
”
Gutruda recommended. And I threw hundreds, thousands, of stones; such was the multitudinous number of dead there! The spirits buzzed at our return.

“
That
’
s enough,
”
Gutruda ordered.
“
Unless you
’
re proposing to organize a fateful revolution with them.
”

“
I
’
m not strong enough,
”
I responded, flattered.
“
First I want to meet him.
”

»
We reached a trifurcated crossroad. Gutruda traced a circle.

“
Who summons me?
”
a voice said.

“
Worship,
”
Gutruda ordered. We bowed down.

“
Don
’
t reveal yourself, Prince, in some bloodcurdling medieval form,
”
I prayed.
“
My modern sensibility wouldn
’
t be able to handle it.
”

“
Ok,
”
the voice conceded.

“
Nor,
”
I dared another demand,
“
come adorned in a tuxedo with a high hat and an Egyptian cigarette between your lips. I
’
ve never been able to take you seriously like that, it makes me laugh.
”

“
Dammit!
”
said the voice, slightly anxious.
“
How, then? I
’
m going to the ball and I have to get dressed up. You have to know I can
’
t
—
I
’
m not allowed to
—
choose too many outfits.
”

“
He seems broken up about it, don
’
t get him overexcited,
”
Gutruda admonished.
“
If he
’
s inclined to have it rain my clothes are going to be ruined.
”

“
He wouldn
’
t dare,
”
I said.

“
Oh, he
’
s quite the beast,
”
Gutruda said.

»
Lightning on the horizon.

“
Fine,
”
I conceded, in order to calm the conjurer.
“
You can show up in a dress coat if you
’
d like, Mr. Devil. How does that sound?
”

»
A skillful piece of shoddy stage machinery helped a middleaged man rise from the ground.

“
Thank you,
”
he said to me meticulously. We shook hands.
»
«
I
’
ve seen this demon act more than once, some years ago,
»
Mel
à
nia cut in.
«
He was played by one of the Barrymore brothers.
»
«
You
’
re right,
»
I granted.
«
Those brothers had some type of exclusive run.
»
«
Carry on,
»
ordered Mel
à
nia.
«
And we shook hands.
»

«
“
And now,
”
the devil said, highly refined,
“
hurry, all of you. We
’
ll be late to the ball, and the
Six dames en noir
are very punctual.
”

“
And the seventh?
”
I asked.

“
Never seen her. Never stirs from a mysterious seat of honor in the kingdom of night,
”
the veteran Gutruda said.

“
The seventh is a boy who
’
s lost his eye,
”
sang the devil, full of literary remembrances. Meanwhile, the path had become populated by demonic fauna: toads, lizards, slugs, bugs, snakes.

“
Day after day these animals grow more numerous,
”
observed the devil while walking with caution.
“
They
’
ll get to the point where they won
’
t be any fun for me at all, especially the snakes. I get so tempted by them!
”
»
«
Such a scatterbrained wisecrack is unworthy even of you,
»
Pulcre Trompel
·
li said dismissively.
«
Talking about the devil is dangerous, although not nearly as dangerous as talking about God,
»
sermonized Father Silv
í
Saperes.
«
Snakes scare me, too,
»
said Mel
à
nia, tying together the broken thread.
«
Go back to the road you traveled and introduce me, at the party, to the
Six dames en noir
. How were they dressed?
»
«
Later. What I
’
m telling you is only the prologue,
»
I warned.
«
Well that
’
s enough for today, eh?
»
Mel
à
nia pleaded.
«
You
’
re the boss,
»
I said, relieved.
«
Don
’
t play with fire. Not even with imitations,
»
benevolent Senyora Maria Castell
ó
counseled from the high, distant peak of her death.

«
Yes,
»
said my friend Salom of Konil
ò
sia (an observation for the good Frenchman: that exotic land that lies between Rarotonga and the Sea of Dreams).
«
Yes, I
’
m happy now, but it cost me.
»
He explained to us the process behind his battles.
«
I was born,
»
he explained,
«
forty-five years ago in a great city in Konil
ò
sia. You all, being from a normal country, will with difficulty understand what happens in that remote region. The Konil
ò
sians, people of a glorious history, otherwise like the glorious histories of all people, tumbled and still tumble down an endless slope. They
’
re distrustful, cheap, and pitiful. They treat spiritual as well as material shared heritage with the greatest possible indifference. Now they believe themselves an inferior people in every way, now they adopt an attitude of ridiculous arrogance. The Konil
ò
sians never read anything ever, know nothing, are interested in nothing, but God save you from bumping into an erudite Konil
ò
sian
—
and there are some
—
because you would see how he mixes Goethe with an anthology of nonsense. They are envious and stingy, they praise the powerful and the mediocre, they tolerate neither talent nor independence of character, and any snobbish foreigner discovers from time to time some forgotten and secular Konil
ò
sian value.
»

Having arrived at this point, Salom took a small pause, then suddenly continued:

«
As I told you, I was born in Lav
í
nia
—
a great city, yes, a great city
—
and within the nationalist focus of the Lav
í
nians, those who formed a separate group within Konil
ò
sia. They have a different language and all of the defects of the Konil
ò
sians, augmented. The Lav
í
nians work in commerce, under a coarse and fundamental exploitation of manufacturing and the law, which fattens and stuffs our abundant, smart, and clever fauna. The Lav
í
nians are the rich of Konil
ò
sia.
»
«
Don
’
t digress so much,
»
I warned him.
«
It
’
s true, pardon me,
»
Salom conceded.
«
I
’
ll look to limit myself to the thread of the narrative, which carries me again to Lav
í
nia, where I spent my infancy and my youth. I was studious, always surrounded by books. People began to look at me askance, praising me in public but thinking something entirely different to themselves, as is the tendency in Lav
í
nia.

“
So, what will the good kid become when he grows up?
”

“
A lawyer, like his father.
”

»
And I graduated with a law degree.

“
Now on to practice,
”
my father said.

»
But the lectures had turned my brain upside down.

“
No, papa.
”
I responded.
“
I don
’
t like law; I
’
m thinking to reach higher.
”

“
You mean you might go into commerce?
”
my progenitor asked, somewhat hopefully.

“
No, I want to reform Lav
í
nia, Konil
ò
sia, and all these things.
”

“
You
’
ll ruin yourself, lazy,
”
my father said.

»
I smiled smugly. And I ruined myself.
»

Salom was silent for a moment and then continued:

«
Yes, I ruined myself. Me, the redeemer. For ten, fifteen, twenty years, I swam against the current. Do you know what that
’
s like? Do you know how the fight gets drained out of you by the wickedness, the hypocrisy, and the ignorance of Lav
í
nia?

“
You and you and you all, etc., you
’
re all so and so and so other, etc.,
”
I accused them severely.

“
Who do you think you are, why are you saying this to us?
”
they responded at the beginning.
“
Antipatriot!
”

“
I like the indignation. When all is said and done you
’
ll correct yourselves,
”
I said, very happy.
“
But that doesn
’
t erase your defects.
”

“
Your mother!
”
they later said. And they started to whistle at me and mock me.

“
Ai, modify yourselves, you
’
ll condemn each other before history, you
’
ll die as a nation if you insist on continuing this way,
”
I predicted to them, rather discouraged.
“
Correct yourselves, educate yourselves, do you hear me? Perhaps you
’
re all already dead?
”
Silence, breakdown. Silence and breakdown. I
’
d buried myself.
»

Salom thought about it and after a moment resumed the anecdote.

«
I
’
m happy now. How did I pull myself out of it? It
’
s very simple. One day I fell in the middle of a crowded street, beaten down, frayed, dead of hunger. Crisant casually passed by, picked me up, and we talked.

“
You
’
re mistaken,
”
he said to me.
“
You won
’
t get anywhere with towns and men, you won
’
t improve them in the slightest if you reproach their defects, defects already well known to all. On the other hand, they never end up knowing what positive qualities they have. If you show these to them, they will end up thanking you for it.
”

»
Little by little, with circumspection, Crisant made manifest to me his doctrine, a doctrine which I followed to the letter. And I succeeded, as you all can see. Don
’
t you know Crisant
’
s theory? It
’
s as amazing as it is simple.
»
«
Wait,
»
the impatient Tomeu interrupted.
«
First say what you did to free yourself from being the redeemer.
»
«
Who, me? Well, I was a lawyer. And in my spare time, as a distraction, a ventriloquist,
»
laughed the happy Salom. And then he went on to expound to us Crisant
’
s theory.

Crisant Baptista Mestres
—
an eloquent man, with a medical degree and a love for
belles lettres
and philosophical digression, things they say are very entertaining hobbies
—
never had the need to work for a living when, all of a sudden, he lost his whole rich inheritance.
«
Crisant, dear, there
’
s no bread in the house,
»
said his loving wife.
«
Let me get oriented, Laudelina,
»
commanded Crisant.
«
Alright,
»
he said at last.
«
We will go far, I promise you.
»
«
Look at how we scarcely have any bread,
»
Laudelina began again.
«
Think pure thoughts, you know? My theory,
»
asserted Crisant, completely satisfied.
«
Fine, but what will we do to get bread?
»
his wife insisted.
«
Nothing more than think pure thoughts,
»
Crisant interrupted.
«
It
’
s an infallible secret for prospering, girl. Ah, what a brain I have, what a man I am, among the best! You
’
ll see the results in no time!
»
Crisant promised with great optimism.
«
Thinking pure thoughts: a method for conserving the body
’
s health, combating all sickness, and extending life. Office: Dr. Crisant B. Mestres, Galatea 15,
»
was spread throughout the country.
«
Think pure thoughts. You are intelligent, young friend!
»
he said to his first client.
«
Think pure thoughts and you will get better.
»
«
What did he tell you, what did he prescribe for you?
»
people asked the first to try the new system.
«
We didn
’
t talk about prescriptions, but on the other hand he told me some really useful things.
»
«
That
’
s it, he
’
s a psychiatrist,
»
they said indecisively, and ran to Carrer de Galatea, number fifteen, to find out.
«
Come in, gentlemen, come in,
»
welcomed Crisant.
«
I
’
ll get to you all very soon. What a noble head you have: think pure thoughts,
»
he said to one.
«
You are rich and, what
’
s more, you know it, I know you know it. You deserve a fortune, and anyone who
’
d pull something against you would be committing a monstrous mistake. Think pure thoughts,
»
he advised another.
«
What a looker you are! No, no: looker, with an l, and I
’
m not from Valls; think pure thoughts,
”
»
he said, enraptured, to a third.
«
What a nice man. And he
’
s put everything in its place for me. He
’
s a thaumaturge,
»
the flattered people said.
«
Oh, master Mestres!
»
they fawned.
«
You all are the best,
»
Crisant said.
«
So, do we have bread in the house now?
»
he asked his wife.
«
We
’
ll never finish it, dear,
»
Laudelina responded enthusiastically.
«
You
’
re the one who
’
s really the best.
»
«
Think pure thoughts,
»
Crisant reminded her.
«
Doing that is enough,
»
Laudelina very happily agreed. And the sick always filled the office on Galatea, 15, and all hastened to think pure thoughts, sustained by the small conviction of being the best.
«
I
’
m the best, no, doctor?
»
asked the old man Tobies Comes, spoiled by earthly goods.
«
I
’
m the best
—
no, doctor?
»
asked Count Trinitat Castellfollit, in those heady days the country
’
s preeminent moneybag.
«
You
’
re the best,
»
Crisant confirmed separately to Tobies and to the count.
«
You just have to think pure thoughts.
»
«
Hurrah!
»
exulted those two incorruptible cavaliers and the legion that followed them.
«
Long live Psychopathic Crisant!
»
And everyone privately rejoiced at the sweet novelty, the evangelism of Crisant.
«
I am the best, I am the best,
»
the elderly Tobies hummed as he dressed before a mirror. And boom! he fell to the floor, as though struck by lightning, and made his debut as a cadaver.
«
Crisant, my elderly relative Tobies had a sudden ache, and now he
’
s colder and stiffer than an Englishman, and he had the same illness that I had,
»
Count Castellfollit, who was above all considered a humorist, now stiff with fright, revealed quickly.
«
Don
’
t take it that way, dear Count. They were quite different cases, yours and that of Tobies. Between us, I wasn
’
t ever able to get the deceased to think pure thoughts. Tobies Comes was never one of the best. But our dear Castellfollit on the other hand, yes, and the best among the best,
»
Crisant said, calming him.
«
Thank you, thank you,
»
the count wept, euphoric.
«
Ask of me anything you want,
»
Crisant said.
«
I want nothing but to do good: I am a modest man,
»
Crisant said.
«
I am taking care of you. You are a soul that would obtain beatitude ahead of time. If we, your friends, didn
’
t watch out for you, God protect us. No, we won
’
t leave off, by no means, not until you sit, at the very least, among the immortals
—
for example in the Acad
è
mia de la Llengua,
»
answered the all-powerful Trinitat.
«
No, no, please,
»
Crisant, with a modest perfection, stammered.
«
Enough, silence: make this sacrifice for me,
»
requested the count. And Crisant was made an academician
—
one of his life
’
s most hidden dreams
—
and adviser of the Banc Nacional, member of Parliament, president of the Board of Barefoot Indians, and professor of Characterological Graphology at the University, where he was suddenly surrounded by many disciples, among them the favorites Amaranta, Pup
ú
Alosa, Ludovicus Baronet, Maria Vict
ò
ria Prou, Mim
í
Pitosporos, and two or three silent, affected people who formed a closed, hermetic, circle; the circle of Crisant
’
s orthodox doctrine.
«
We love him!
»
they said at the sight of themselves in such a highly eminent group.
«
You
’
re all the best,
»
Crisant meted out in intimate settings. And he spread praise among his apostles.
«
What beautiful hands you have, Amaranta! And you, Alosa, the manner in which you move yours! And, you, Baronet, what beautiful silence! Silence is the best trait there is, because it allows pure thoughts to be expressed. And you all,
»
he said to the two or three affected people left,
«
you all are also the best, because you admire me and you admire so purely your companions.
»
«
Glory be to Crisant!
»
the country exalted. And they offered him, in homage, a five-thousand-place meal.
«
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,
»
Crisant began when it was his turn to deliver a speech.
«
Thank you for this bounteous downpour descending upon my head.
»
«
A poet, goodness me, a poet! Thaumaturge, financier, academician, patron, and now poet,
»
the throng cried.
«
And master above all. He loves his pupils, he stimulates them, he helps them, he knows them, and then there
’
s this school of great clinicians that he
’
s created! What did you all tell me about Baronet
’
s silence, Amaranta
’
s hands, Alosa
’
s gestures, Mim
í
’
s talks, or Vict
ò
ria
’
s tender spirit?
»
«
You can count on this: they are great clinicians,
»
the public acknowledged.
«
I already know, dear Professor, about your great day yesterday,
”
the Princess Bijou Fontrodona said the day after the event.
«
N
’
est-ce pas, maman
?
»
«
Oui, ma fille, une journ
é
e tout
à
fait historique
,
»
the broken-down duchess, Stephana Martin, swallowing a yawn, agreed.
«
Surely I was needed there, being the country
’
s only princess,
»
Bijou added.
«
And the best,
»
interrupted, gallantly, the great man.
«
You are adorable,
»
the Princess said, utterly pleased.
«
But I was not able to attend, due, as you will already have figured, to my husband, the Prince.
»
«
Yes, of course, the Prince,
»
Crisant said. Then all three of them sighed.
«
And what are you thinking to do now, what projects do you have?
»
Bijou inquired.
«
Just a book,
»
the great man said, with an air of confidentiality.
«
A book in which you will no doubt express your curative theory, how fantastic,
»
the kind Princess said.
«
Yes, and moreover, a type of confession, an autobiography. For, ladies, I will reveal my hidden tragedy. In reality I am neither a clinician, nor a financier, nor a patron of barefoot Indians, an academic nor a poet. I am a philosopher. As a young man I followed the teachings of Efrem Pedagog, a sublime genius as far as I am concerned, and Efrem considered me the best of his pupils. I owe my whole doctrine to him. Life and circumstance took over afterward, and no one saw the philosopher in me, when in fact I am nothing other than a philosopher, or a failure: and there you have what I want to tell in my book.
»
«
Really? A philosopher?
»
commented Bijou, with a bit of frost in her voice. But she quickly recovered.
«
You are terrible, Crisant! A philosopher. A failure
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
Your ambition has no limits, dear friend.
»
Everyone laughed, and Crisant
’
s ears turned deep red from the psychological collapse.
«
Following a train of thought,
»
the Duchess said when everything calmed down.
«
I would like to ask you a favor, Crisant: nothing major, a little obligation. It is about Mel
à
nia
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
an old pupil of yours.
»
«
Mel
à
nia, Mel
à
nia
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
»
Crisant, trying to recall her, said.
«
Ah, yes, a Mel
à
nia attended my lectures for three straight years. Not another word, Duchess, I implore you. Mel
à
nia was intolerable. She never accepted my theory; she slandered it, only thinking of herself, and I find these flights of freedom unpleasant. Mel
à
nia did not belong, to put it this way, in the category of the best,
»
Crisant explained.
«
Request of me, on the other hand, anything you may want done for Mim
í
or for Baronet, or for the good of Amaranta, or Alosa, or Vict
ò
ria.
»