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- The Project Gutenberg EBook of Satan's Diary, by Leonid Andreyev
- This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
- almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
- re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
- with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
- Title: Satan's Diary
- Author: Leonid Andreyev
- Release Date: May 8, 2013 [EBook #42665]
- Language: English
- *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SATAN'S DIARY ***
- Produced by Dianna Adair, Richard Hulse and the Online
- Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
- file was produced from images generously made available
- by The Internet Archive)
- _Satan's Diary_
- _SATAN'S DIARY_
- BY
- LEONID ANDREYEV
- _Authorized Translation_
- WITH A PREFACE BY
- HERMAN BERNSTEIN
- BONI AND LIVERIGHT
- PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
- COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY
- BONI & LIVERIGHT, INC.
- _Printed in the United States of America_
- PREFACE
- "Satan's Diary," Leonid Andreyev's last work, was completed by the
- great Russian a few days before he died in Finland, in September,
- 1919. But a few years ago the most popular and successful of Russian
- writers, Andreyev died almost penniless, a sad, tragic figure,
- disillusioned, broken-hearted over the tragedy of Russia.
- A year ago Leonid Andreyev wrote me that he was eager to come to
- America, to study this country and familiarize Americans with the
- fate of his unfortunate countrymen. I arranged for his visit to this
- country and informed him of this by cable. But on the very day I
- sent my cable the sad news came from Finland announcing that Leonid
- Andreyev died of heart failure.
- In "Satan's Diary" Andreyev summed up his boundless disillusionment
- in an absorbing satire on human life. Fearlessly and mercilessly
- he hurled the falsehoods and hypocrisies into the face of life. He
- portrayed Satan coming to this earth to amuse himself and play. Having
- assumed the form of an American multi-millionaire, Satan set out on a
- tour through Europe in quest of amusement and adventure. Before him
- passed various forms of spurious virtues, hypocrisies, the ruthless
- cruelty of man and the often deceptive innocence of woman. Within
- a short time Satan finds himself outwitted, deceived, relieved of
- his millions, mocked, humiliated, beaten by man in his own devilish
- devices.
- The story of Andreyev's beginning as a writer is best told in his
- autobiography which he gave me in 1908.
- * * * * *
- "I was born," he said, "in Oryol, in 1871, and studied there at the
- gymnasium. I studied poorly; while in the seventh class I was for a
- whole year known as the worst student, and my mark for conduct was
- never higher than 4, sometimes 3. The most pleasant time I spent at
- school, which I recall to this day with pleasure, was recess time
- between lessons, and also the rare occasions when I was sent out from
- the classroom.... The sunbeams, the free sunbeams, which penetrated
- some cleft and which played with the dust in the hallway--all this was
- so mysterious, so interesting, so full of a peculiar, hidden meaning.
- "When I studied at the gymnasium my father, an engineer, died. As
- a university student I was in dire need. During my first course in
- St. Petersburg I even starved--not so much out of real necessity as
- because of my youth, inexperience, and my inability to utilize the
- unnecessary parts of my costume. I am to this day ashamed to think
- that I went two days without food at a time when I had two or three
- pairs of trousers and two overcoats which I could have sold.
- "It was then that I wrote my first story--about a starving student.
- I cried when I wrote it, and the editor, who returned my manuscript,
- laughed. That story of mine remained unpublished.... In 1894, in
- January, I made an unsuccessful attempt to kill myself by shooting. As
- a result of this unsuccessful attempt I was forced by the authorities
- into religious penitence, and I contracted heart trouble, though not
- of a serious nature, yet very annoying. During this time I made one or
- two unsuccessful attempts at writing; I devoted myself with greater
- pleasure and success to painting, which I loved from childhood on. I
- made portraits to order at 3 and 5 rubles a piece.
- "In 1897 I received my diploma and became an assistant attorney, but
- I was at the very outset sidetracked. I was offered a position on
- _The Courier_, for which I was to report court proceedings. I did not
- succeed in getting any practice as a lawyer. I had only one case and
- lost it at every point.
- "In 1898 I wrote my first story--for the Easter number--and since that
- time I have devoted myself exclusively to literature. Maxim Gorky
- helped me considerably in my literary work by his always practical
- advice and suggestions."
- * * * * *
- Andreyev's first steps in literature, his first short stories,
- attracted but little attention at the time of their appearance. It
- was only when Countess Tolstoy, the wife of Leo Tolstoy, in a letter
- to the _Novoye Vremya_, came out in "defense of artistic purity and
- moral power in contemporary literature," declaring that Russian
- society, instead of buying, reading and making famous the works of the
- Andreyevs, should "rise against such filth with indignation," that
- almost everybody who knew how to read in Russia turned to the little
- volume of the young writer.
- In her attack upon Andreyev, Countess Tolstoy said as follows:
- * * * * *
- "The poor new writers, like Andreyev, succeeded only in concentrating
- their attention on the filthy point of human degradation and uttered a
- cry to the undeveloped, half-intelligent reading public, inviting them
- to see and to examine the decomposed corpse of human degradation and
- to close their eyes to God's wonderful, vast world, with the beauties
- of nature, with the majesty of art, with the lofty yearnings of the
- human soul, with the religious and moral struggles and the great
- ideals of goodness--even with the downfall, misfortunes and weaknesses
- of such people as Dostoyevsky depicted.... In describing all these
- every true artist should illumine clearly before humanity not the side
- of filth and vice, but should struggle against them by illumining the
- highest ideals of good, truth, and the triumph over evil, weakness,
- and the vices of mankind.... I should like to cry out loudly to the
- whole world in order to help those unfortunate people whose wings,
- given to each of them for high flights toward the understanding of
- the spiritual light, beauty, kindness, and God, are clipped by these
- Andreyevs."
- This letter of Countess Tolstoy called forth a storm of protest in the
- Russian press, and, strange to say, the representatives of the fair
- sex were among the warmest defenders of the young author. Answering
- the attack, many women, in their letters to the press, pointed out
- that the author of "Anna Karenina" had been abused in almost the
- same manner for his "Kreutzer Sonata," and that Tolstoy himself had
- been accused of exerting just such an influence as the Countess
- attributed to Andreyev over the youth of Russia. Since the publication
- of Countess Tolstoy's condemnation, Andreyev has produced a series
- of masterpieces, such as "The Life of Father Vassily," a powerful
- psychological study; "Red Laughter," a war story, "written with the
- blood of Russia;" "The Life of Man," a striking morality presentation
- in five acts; "Anathema," his greatest drama; and "The Seven Who Were
- Hanged," in which the horrors of Russian life under the Tsar were
- delineated with such beautiful simplicity and power that Turgenev, or
- Tolstoy himself, would have signed his name to this masterpiece.
- Thus the first accusations against Andreyev were disarmed by his
- artistic productions, permeated with sincere, profound love for
- all that is pure in life. Dostoyevsky and Maupassant depicted more
- subjects, such as that treated in "The Abyss," than Andreyev. But with
- them these stories are lost in the great mass of their other works,
- while in Andreyev, who at that time had as yet produced but a few
- short stories, works like "The Abyss" stood out in bold relief.
- I recall my first meeting with Leonid Andreyev in 1908, two weeks
- after my visit to Count Leo Tolstoy at Yasnaya Polyana. At that time
- he had already become the most popular Russian writer, his popularity
- having overshadowed even that of Maxim Gorky.
- As I drove from Terioki to Andreyev's house, along the dust-covered
- road, the stern and taciturn little Finnish driver suddenly broke the
- silence by saying to me in broken Russian:
- "Andreyev is a good writer.... Although he is a Russian, he is a very
- good man. He is building a beautiful house here in Finland, and he
- gives employment to many of our people."
- We were soon at the gate of Andreyev's beautiful villa--a fantastic
- structure, weird-looking, original in design, something like the
- conception of the architect in the "Life of Man."
- "My son is out rowing with his wife in the Gulf of Finland,"
- Andreyev's mother told me. "They will be back in half an hour."
- As I waited I watched the seething activity everywhere on Andreyev's
- estate. In Yasnaya Polyana, the home of Count Tolstoy, everything
- seemed long established, fixed, well-regulated, serenely beautiful.
- Andreyev's estate was astir with vigorous life. Young, strong men were
- building the House of Man. More than thirty of them were working on
- the roof and in the yard, and a little distance away, in the meadows,
- young women and girls, bright-eyed and red faced, were haying. Youth,
- strength, vigor everywhere, and above all the ringing laughter of
- little children at play. I could see from the window the "Black Little
- River," which sparkled in the sun hundreds of feet below. The constant
- noise of the workmen's axes and hammers was so loud that I did not
- notice when Leonid Andreyev entered the room where I was waiting for
- him.
- "Pardon my manner of dressing," he said, as we shook hands. "In the
- summer I lead a lazy life, and do not write a line. I am afraid I am
- forgetting even to sign my name."
- I had seen numerous photographs of Leonid Andreyev, but he did not
- look like any of them. Instead of a pale-faced, sickly-looking young
- man, there stood before me a strong, handsome, well-built man, with
- wonderful eyes. He wore a grayish blouse, black, wide pantaloons up to
- his knees, and no shoes or stockings.
- We soon spoke of Russian literature at the time, particularly of the
- drama.
- "We have no real drama in Russia," said Andreyev. "Russia has not yet
- produced anything that could justly be called a great drama. Perhaps
- 'The Storm,' by Ostrovsky, is the only Russian play that may be
- classed as a drama. Tolstoy's plays cannot be placed in this category.
- Of the later writers, Anton Chekhov came nearest to giving real dramas
- to Russia, but, unfortunately, he was taken from us in the prime of
- his life."
- "What do you consider your own 'Life of Man' and 'To the Stars'?" I
- asked.
- "They are not dramas; they are merely presentations in so many acts,"
- answered Andreyev, and, after some hesitation, added: "I have not
- written any dramas, but it is possible that I will write one." At
- this point Andreyev's wife came in, dressed in a Russian blouse. The
- conversation turned to America, and to the treatment accorded to Maxim
- Gorky in New York.
- "When I was a child I loved America," remarked Andreyev. "Perhaps
- Cooper and Mayne Reid, my favorite authors in my childhood days, were
- responsible for this. I was always planning to run away to America. I
- am anxious even now to visit America, but I am afraid--I may get as
- bad a reception as my friend Gorky got."
- He laughed as he glanced at his wife. After a brief pause, he said:
- "The most remarkable thing about the Gorky incident is that while in
- his stories and articles about America Gorky wrote nothing but the
- very worst that could be said about that country he never told me
- anything but the very best about America. Some day he will probably
- describe his impressions of America as he related them to me."
- It was a very warm day. The sun was burning mercilessly in the large
- room. Mme. Andreyev suggested that it would be more pleasant to go
- down to a shady place near the Black Little River.
- On the way down the hill Andreyev inquired about Tolstoy's health and
- was eager to know his views on contemporary matters.
- "If Tolstoy were young now he would have been with us," he said.
- We stepped into a boat, Mme. Andreyev took up the oars and began to
- row. We resumed our conversation.
- "The decadent movement in Russian literature," said Andreyev, "started
- to make itself felt about ten or fifteen years ago. At first it was
- looked upon as mere child's play, as a curiosity. Now it is regarded
- more seriously. Although I do not belong to that school, I do not
- consider it worthless. The fault with it is that it has but few
- talented people in its ranks, and these few direct the criticism of
- the decadent school. They are the writers and also the critics. And
- they praise whatever they write. Of the younger men, Alexander Blok
- is perhaps the most gifted. But in Russia our clothes change quickly
- nowadays, and it is hard to tell what the future will tell us--in our
- literature and our life.
- "How do I picture to myself this future?" continued Andreyev, in
- answer to a question of mine. "I cannot know even the fate and future
- of my own child; how can I foretell the future of such a great country
- as Russia? But I believe that the Russian people have a great future
- before them--in life and in literature--for they are a great people,
- rich in talents, kind and freedom-loving. Savage as yet, it is true,
- very ignorant, but on the whole they do not differ so much from other
- European nations."
- Suddenly the author of "Red Laughter" looked upon me intently, and
- asked: "How is it that the European and the American press has
- ceased to interest itself in our struggle for emancipation? Is it
- possible that the reaction in Russia appeals to them more than our
- people's yearnings for freedom, simply because the reaction happens
- to be stronger at the present time? In that event, they are probably
- sympathizing with the Shah of Persia! Russia to-day is a lunatic
- asylum. The people who are hanged are not the people who should be
- hanged. Everywhere else honest people are at large and only criminals
- are in prison. In Russia the honest people are in prison and the
- criminals are at large. The Russian Government is composed of a band
- of criminals, and Nicholas II is not the greatest of them. There are
- still greater ones. I do not hold that the Russian Government alone
- is guilty of these horrors. The European nations and the Americans
- are just as much to blame, for they look on in silence while the most
- despicable crimes are committed. The murderer usually has at least
- courage, while he who looks on silently when murder is committed
- is a contemptible weakling. England and France, who have become so
- friendly to our Government, are surely watching with compassion the
- poor Shah, who hangs the constitutional leaders. Perhaps I do not know
- international law. Perhaps I am not speaking as a practical man. One
- nation must not interfere with the internal affairs of another nation.
- But why do they interfere with our movement for freedom? France
- helped the Russian Government in its war against the people by giving
- money to Russia. Germany also helped--secretly. In well-regulated
- countries each individual must behave decently. When a man murders,
- robs, dishonors women he is thrown into prison. But when the Russian
- Government is murdering helpless men and women and children the other
- Governments look on indifferently. And yet they speak of God. If this
- had happened in the Middle Ages a crusade would have been started by
- civilized peoples who would have marched to Russia to free the women
- and the children from the claws of the Government."
- Andreyev became silent. His wife kept rowing for some time slowly,
- without saying a word. We soon reached the shore and returned silently
- to the house. That was twelve years ago.
- I met him several times after that. The last time I visited him in
- Petrograd during the July riots in 1917.
- * * * * *
- A literary friend thus describes the funeral of Leonid Andreyev, which
- gives a picture of the tragedy of Russia:
- "In the morning a decision had to be reached as to the day of the
- funeral. It was necessary to see to the purchase and the delivery of
- the coffin from Viborg, and to undertake all those unavoidable, hard
- duties which are so painful to the family.
- "It appeared that the Russian exiles living in our village had no
- permits from the Finnish Government to go to Viborg, nor the money for
- that expense. It further appeared that the family of Leonid Andreyev
- had left at their disposal only one hundred marks (about 6 dollars),
- which the doctor who had come from the station after Andreyev's death
- declined to take from the widow for his visit.
- "This was all the family possessed. It was necessary to charge a
- Russian exile living in a neighboring village, who had a pass for
- Viborg, with the sad commission of finding among some wealthy people
- in Viborg who had known Andreyev the means required for the funeral.
- "On the following day mass was read. Floral tributes and wreaths from
- Viborg, with black inscriptions made hastily in ink on white ribbons,
- began to arrive. They were all from private individuals. The local
- refugees brought garlands of autumn foliage, bouquets of late flowers.
- Their children laid their carefully woven, simple and touching little
- childish wreaths at the foot of the coffin. Leonid Andreyev's widow
- did not wish to inter the body in foreign soil and it was decided,
- temporarily, until burial in native ground, to leave his body in the
- little mortuary in the park on the estate of a local woman landowner.
- "The day of the funeral was not widely known. The need for special
- permits to travel deprived many of the opportunity to attend. In
- this way it happened that only a very small group of people followed
- the body from the house to the mortuary. None of his close friends
- was there. They, like his brothers, sister, one of his sons, were
- in Russia. Neighbors, refugees, acquaintances of the last two years
- with whom his exile had accidentally thrown him into contact, people
- who had no connection with Russian literature,--almost all alien in
- spirit--such was the little group of Russians that followed the coffin
- of Leonid Andreyev to its temporary resting place.
- "It was a tragic funeral, this funeral in exile, of a writer who is
- so dearly loved by the whole intellectual class of Russia; whom the
- younger generation of Russia acclaimed with such enthusiasm.
- "Meanwhile he rests in a foreign land, waiting--waiting for Free
- Russia to demand back his ashes, and pay tribute to his genius."
- Among his last notes, breathing deep anguish and despair, found on his
- desk, were the following lines:
- "Revolution is just as unsatisfactory a means of settling disputes
- as is war. If it be impossible to vanquish a hostile idea except by
- smashing the skull in which it is contained; if it be impossible to
- appease a hostile heart except by piercing it with a bayonet, then, of
- course, fight...."
- Leonid Andreyev died of a broken heart. But the spirit of his genius
- is deathless.
- HERMAN BERNSTEIN.
- _New York, September._
- _Satan's Diary_
- SATAN'S DIARY
- January 18.
- On board the _Atlantic_.
- This is exactly the tenth day since I have become human and am leading
- this earthly life.
- My loneliness is very great. I am not in need of friends, but I must
- speak of Myself and I have no one to speak to. Thoughts alone are not
- sufficient, and they will not become quite clear, precise and exact
- until I express them in words. It is necessary to arrange them in a
- row, like soldiers or telephone poles, to lay them out like a railway
- track, to throw across bridges and viaducts, to construct barrows and
- enclosures, to indicate stations in certain places--and only then will
- everything become clear. This laborious engineering work, I think,
- they call logic and consistency, and is essential to those who desire
- to be wise. It is not essential to all others. They may wander about
- as they please.
- The work is slow, difficult and repulsive for one who is accustomed
- to--I do not know what to call it--to embracing all in one breath and
- expressing all in a single breath. It is not in vain that men respect
- their thinkers so much, and it is not in vain that these unfortunate
- thinkers, if they are honest and conscientious in this process of
- construction, as ordinary engineers, end in insane asylums. I am but a
- few days on this earth and more than once have the yellow walls of the
- insane asylum and its luring open door flashed before my eyes.
- Yes, it is extremely difficult and irritates one's "nerves." I have
- just now wasted so much of the ship's fine stationery to express a
- little ordinary thought on the inadequacy of man's words and logic.
- What will it be necessary to waste to give expression to the great
- and the unusual? I want to warn you, my earthly reader, at the very
- outset, not to gape in astonishment. The _extraordinary cannot be
- expressed_ in the language of your grumbling. If you do not believe
- me, go to the nearest insane asylum and listen to the inmates: they
- have all realized _Something_ and wanted to give expression to it. And
- now you can hear the roar and rumble of these wrecked engines, their
- wheels revolving and hissing in the air, and you can see with what
- difficulty they manage to hold intact the rapidly dissolving features
- of their astonished faces!
- I see you are all ready to ply me with questions, now that you
- learned that I am Satan in human form: it is so fascinating! Whence
- did I come? What are the ways of Hell? Is there immortality there,
- and, also, what is the price of coal at the stock exchange of Hell?
- Unfortunately, my dear reader, despite my desire to the contrary,
- if I had such a desire, I am powerless to satisfy your very proper
- curiosity. I could have composed for your benefit one of those funny
- little stories about horny and hairy devils, which appeal so much
- to your meagre imagination, but you have had enough of them already
- and I do not want to lie so rudely and ungracefully. I will lie to
- you elsewhere, when you least expect it, and that will be far more
- interesting for both of us.
- And the truth--how am I to tell it when even my Name cannot be
- expressed in your tongue? You have called me Satan and I accept the
- name, just as I would have accepted any other: Be it so--I am Satan.
- But my real name sounds quite different, quite different! It has an
- extraordinary sound and try as I may I cannot force it into your
- narrow ear without tearing it open together with your brain: Be it
- so--I am Satan. And nothing more.
- And you yourself are to blame for this, my friend: why is there so
- little understanding in your reason? Your reason is like a beggar's
- sack, containing only crusts of stale bread, while it is necessary
- to have something more than bread. You have but two conceptions of
- existence: life and death. How, then, can I reveal to you the _third_?
- All your existence is an absurdity only because you do not have this
- _third conception_. And where can I get it for you? To-day I am human,
- even as you. In my skull is your brain. In my mouth are your cubic
- words, jostling one another about with their sharp corners, and I
- cannot tell you of the Extraordinary.
- If I were to tell you that there are no devils I would lie. But if
- I say that such creatures do exist I also deceive you. You see how
- difficult it is, how absurd, my friend!
- I can also tell you but little that you would understand of how I
- assumed the human form, with which I began my earthly life ten days
- ago. First of all, forget about your favorite, hairy, horny, winged
- devils, who breathe fire, transform fragments of earthenware into gold
- and change old men into fascinating youths, and having done all this
- and prattled much nonsense, they disappear suddenly through a wall.
- Remember: when _we_, want to visit your earth _we_ must always become
- human. Why this is so you will learn after your death. Meanwhile
- remember: I am a human being now like yourself. There is not the foul
- smell of a goat about me but the fragrance of perfume, and you need
- not fear to shake My hand lest I may scratch you with my nails: I
- manicure them just as you do.
- But how did it all happen? Very simply. When I first conceived the
- desire to visit this earth I selected as the most satisfactory lodging
- a 38-year-old American billionaire, Mr. Henry Wondergood. I killed
- him at night,--of course, not in the presence of witnesses. But you
- cannot bring me to court despite this confession, because the American
- is ALIVE, and we both greet you with one respectful bow: I and
- Wondergood. He simply rented his empty place to me. You understand?
- And not all of it either, the devil take him! And, to my great regret
- I can _return_ only through the same door which leads you too to
- liberty: through death.
- This is the most important thing. You may understand something of what
- I may have to say later on, although to speak to you of such matters
- in your language is like trying to conceal a mountain in a vest pocket
- or to empty Niagara with a thimble. Imagine, for example, that you,
- my dear King of Nature, should want to come closer to the ants, and
- that by some miracle you became a real little ant,--then you may have
- some conception of that gulf which separates Me now from what I was.
- No, still more! Imagine that you were a sound and have become a mere
- symbol--a musical mark on paper.... No, still worse!--No comparisons
- can make clear to you that terrible gulf whose bottom even I do not
- see as yet. Or, perhaps, there is no bottom there at all.
- Think of it: for two days, after leaving New York, I suffered from
- seasickness! This sounds queer to you, who are accustomed to wallow
- in your own dirt? Well, I--I have also wallowed in it but it was not
- queer at all. I only smiled once in thinking that _it_ was not I, but
- Wondergood, and said:
- "Roll on, Wondergood, roll on!"
- There is another question to which you probably want an answer: Why
- did I come to this earth and accept such an unprofitable exchange: to
- be transformed from Satan, "the mighty, immortal chieftain and ruler"
- into you? I am tired of seeking words that cannot be found. I will
- answer you in English, French, Italian or German--languages we both
- understand well. I have grown lonesome in Hell and I have come upon
- the earth to lie and play.
- You know what ennui is. And as for falsehood, you know it well too.
- And as for _play_--you can judge it to a certain extent by your own
- theaters and celebrated actors. Perhaps you yourself are playing a
- little rôle in Parliament, at home, or in your church. If you are,
- you may understand something of the _satisfaction_ of play. And, if
- in addition, you are familiar with the multiplication table, then
- multiply the delight and joy of play into any considerable figure and
- you will get an idea of My enjoyment, of My play. No, imagine that you
- are an ocean wave, which plays eternally and lives only in play--take
- this wave, for example, which I see outside the porthole now and which
- wants to lift our "Atlantic"...but, here I am again seeking words
- and comparisons!
- I simply want to play. At present I am still an unknown actor, a
- modest débutante, but I hope to become no less a celebrity than your
- own Garrick or Aldrich, after I have played what I please. I am proud,
- selfish and even, if you please, vain and boastful. You know what
- vanity is, when you crave the praise and plaudits even of a fool? Then
- I entertain the brazen idea that I am a genius. Satan is known for his
- brazenness. And so, imagine, that I have grown weary of Hell where
- all these hairy and horny rogues play and lie no worse than I do, and
- that I am no longer satisfied with the laurels of Hell, in which I but
- perceive no small measure of base flattery and downright stupidity.
- But I have heard of you, my earthly friend; I have heard that you
- are wise, tolerably honest, properly incredulous, responsive to the
- problems of eternal art and that you yourself play and lie so badly
- that you might appreciate the playing of others: not in vain have you
- so many _great actors_. And so I have come. You understand?
- My stage is the earth and the nearest scene for which I am now bound
- is Rome, the Eternal City, as it is called here, in your profound
- conception of eternity and other simple matters. I have not yet
- selected my company (would you not like to join it?). But I believe
- that _Fate_ and _Chance_, to whom I am now subservient, like all your
- earthly things, will realize my unselfish motives and will send me
- worthy partners. Old Europe is so rich in talents! I believe that
- I shall find a keen and appreciative audience in Europe, too. I
- confess that I first thought of going to the East, which some of my
- compatriots made their scene of activity some time ago with no small
- measure of success, but the East is too credulous and is inclined
- too much to poison and the ballet. Its gods are ludicrous. The East
- still reeks too much of hairy animals. Its lights and shadows are
- barbarously crude and too bright to make it worth while for a refined
- artist as I am to go into that crowded, foul circus tent. Ah, my
- friend, I am so vain that I even begin this Diary not without the
- secret intention of impressing you with my modesty in the rôle of
- _seeker_ of words and comparisons. I hope you will not take advantage
- of my frankness and cease believing me.
- Are there any other questions? Of the play itself I have no clear idea
- yet. It will be composed by the same impresario who will assemble
- the actors--_Fate_. My modest rôle, as a beginning, will be that of
- a man who so loves his fellow beings that he is willing to give them
- everything, his soul and his money. Of course, you have not forgotten
- that I am a billionaire? I have three billion dollars. Sufficient--is
- it not?--for one spectacular performance. One more detail before I
- conclude this page.
- I have with me, sharing my fate, a certain Irwin Toppi, my
- secretary,--a most worthy person in his black frock coat and silk
- top hat, his long nose resembling an unripened pear and his smoothly
- shaven, pastor-like face. I would not be surprised to find a prayer
- book in his pocket. My Toppi came upon this earth from _there_, i.e.
- from Hell and by the same means as mine: he, too, assumed the human
- form and, it seems, quite successfully--the rogue is entirely immune
- from seasickness. However to be seasick one must have some brains
- and my Toppi is unusually stupid--even for this earth. Besides, he
- is impolite and ventures to offer advice. I am rather sorry that out
- of our entire wealth of material I did not select some one better,
- but I was impressed by his honesty and partial familiarity with the
- earth: it seemed more pleasant to enter upon this little jaunt with
- an experienced comrade. Quite a long time ago he once before assumed
- the human form and was so taken by religious sentiments that--think
- of it!--he entered a Franciscan monastery, lived there to a ripe old
- age and died peacefully under the name of Brother Vincent. His ashes
- became the object of veneration for believers--not a bad career for a
- fool of a devil. No sooner did he enter upon this trip with Me than
- he began to sniff about for incense--an incurable habit! You will
- probably like him.
- And now enough. Get thee hence, my friend. I wish to be alone. Your
- shallow reflection upon this wall wears upon me. I wish to be alone
- or only with this Wondergood who has leased his abode to Me and seems
- to have gotten the best of Me somehow or other. The sea is calm. I
- am no longer nauseated but I am afraid of something. I am afraid! I
- fear this darkness which they call night and descends upon the ocean:
- here, in the cabin there is still some light, but there, on deck,
- there is terrible darkness, and My eyes are quite helpless. These
- silly reflectors--they are worthless. They are able to reflect things
- by day but in the darkness they lose even this miserable power. Of
- course I shall get used to the darkness. I have already grown used to
- many things. But just now I am ill at ease and it is horrible to think
- that the mere turn of a key obsesses me with this blind ever present
- darkness. Whence does it come?
- And how brave men are with their dim reflectors: they see nothing
- and simply say: it is dark here, we must make a light! Then they
- themselves put it out and go to sleep. I regard these braves with
- a kind of cold wonder and I am seized with admiration. Or must one
- possess a great mind to appreciate horror, like Mine? You are not
- such a coward, Wondergood. You always bore the reputation of being a
- hardened man and a man of experience!
- There is one moment in the process of my assumption of the human
- form that I cannot recollect without horror. That was when for the
- first time I heard the beating of My heart. This regular, loud,
- metronome-like sound, which speaks as much of death as of life, filled
- me with the hitherto inexperienced sensation of horror. Men are always
- quarrelling about accounts, but how can they carry in their breasts
- _this_ counting machine, registering with the speed of a magician the
- fleeting seconds of life?
- At first I wanted to shout and to run back _below_, before I could
- grow accustomed to life, but here I looked at Toppi: this new-born
- fool was calmly brushing his top hat with the sleeve of his frock
- coat. I broke out into laughter and cried:
- "Toppi, the brush!"
- We both brushed ourselves while the counting machine in my breast was
- computing the seconds and, it seemed to me, adding on a few for good
- measure. Finally, hearing its brazen beating, I thought I might not
- have time enough to finish my toillette. I have been in a great hurry
- for some time. Just what it was I would not be able to complete I
- did not know, but for two days I was in a mad rush to eat and drink
- and even sleep: the counting machine was beating away while I lay in
- slumber!
- But I never rush now. I know that I will manage to get through and my
- moments seem inexhaustible. But the little machine keeps on beating
- just the same, like a drunken soldier at a drum. And how about the
- very moments it is using up now. Are they to be counted as equal to
- the great ones? Then I say it is all a fraud and I protest as a honest
- citizen of the United States and as a merchant.
- I do not feel well. Yet I would not repulse even a friend at this
- moment. Ah! In all the universe I am alone!
- February 7, 1914.
- Rome, Hotel "Internationale."
- I am driven mad whenever I am compelled to seize the club of a
- policeman to bring order in my brain: facts, to the right! thoughts,
- to the left! moods, to the rear--clear the road for His Highness,
- Conscience, which barely moves about upon its stilts. I am compelled
- to do this: otherwise there would be a riot, an abrecadebra, chaos.
- And so I call you to order, gentleman--facts and lady-thoughts. I
- begin.
- Night. Darkness. The air is balmy. There is a pleasant fragrance.
- Toppi is enchanted. We are in Italy. Our speeding train is approaching
- Rome. We are enjoying our soft couches when, suddenly, crash!
- Everything flies to the devil: the train has gone out of its mind. It
- is wrecked. I confess without shame that I am not very brave, that
- I was seized with terror and seemed to have lost consciousness. The
- lights were extinguished and with much labor I crawled out of the
- corner into which I had been hurled. I seemed to have forgotten the
- exit. There were only walls and corners. I felt something stinging and
- beating at Me, and all about nothing but darkness. Suddenly I felt a
- body beneath my feet. I stepped right upon the face. Only afterwards
- did I discover that the body was that of George, my lackey, killed
- outright. I shouted and my obliging Toppi came to my aid: he seized
- me by the arm and led me to an open window, as both exits had been
- barricaded by fragments of the car and baggage. I leaped out, but
- Toppi lingered behind. My knees were trembling. I was groaning but
- still he failed to appear. I shouted. Suddenly he reappeared at the
- window and shouted back:
- "What are you crying about? I am looking for our hats and your
- portfolio."
- A few moments later he returned and handed me my hat. He himself had
- his silk top hat on and carried the portfolio. I shook with laughter
- and said:
- "Young man, you have forgotten the umbrella!"
- But the old buffoon has no sense of humor. He replied seriously:
- "I do not carry an umbrella. And do you know, our George is dead and
- so is the chef."
- So, this fallen carcass which has no feelings and upon whose face one
- steps with impunity is our George! I was again seized with terror and
- suddenly my ears were pierced with groans, wild shrieks, whistlings
- and cries! All the sounds wherewith these braves wail when they are
- crushed. At first I was deafened. I heard nothing. The cars caught
- fire. The flames and smoke shot up into the air. The wounded began to
- groan and, without waiting for the flesh to roast, I darted like a
- flash into the field. What a leap!
- Fortunately the low hills of the Roman Campagna are very convenient
- for this kind of sport and I was no means behind in the line of
- runners. When, out of breath, I hurled myself upon the ground, it
- was no longer possible to hear or see anything. Only Toppi was
- approaching. But what a terrible thing this heart is! My face touched
- the earth. The earth was cool, firm, calm and here I liked it. It
- seemed as if it had restored my breath and put my heart back into its
- place. I felt easier. The stars above were calm. There was nothing
- for them to get excited about. They were not concerned with things
- below. They merely shine in triumph. That is their eternal ball. And
- at this brilliant ball the earth, clothed in darkness, appeared as an
- enchanting stranger in a black mask. (Not at all badly expressed? I
- trust that you, my reader, will be pleased: my style and my manners
- are improving!)
- I kissed Toppi in the darkness. I always kiss those I like in the
- darkness. And I said:
- "You are carrying your human form, Toppi, very well. I respect you.
- But what are we to do now? Those lights yonder in the sky--they are
- the lights of Rome. But they are too far away!"
- "Yes, it is Rome," affirmed Toppi, and raised his hand: "do you hear
- whistling?"
- From somewhere in the distance came the long-drawn, piercing,
- shrieking of locomotives. They were sounding the alarm.
- "Yes, they are whistling," I said and laughed.
- "They are whistling!" repeated Toppi smiling. He never laughs.
- But here again I began to feel uncomfortable. I was cold, lonely,
- quivering. In my feet there was still the sensation of treading upon
- corpses. I wanted to shake myself like a dog after a bath. You must
- understand me: it was the first time that I had seen and felt your
- corpse, my dear reader, and if you pardon me, it did not appeal to me
- at all. Why did it not protest when I walked over its face? George had
- such a beautiful young face and he carried himself with much dignity.
- Remember your face, too, may be trod upon. And will you, too, remain
- submissive?
- We did not proceed to Rome but went instead in search of the nearest
- night lodging. We walked long. We grew tired. We longed to drink, oh,
- how we longed to drink! And now, permit me to present to you my new
- friend, Signor Thomas Magnus and his beautiful daughter, Maria.
- At first we observed the faint flicker of a light. As we approached
- nearer we found a little house, its white walls gleaming through a
- thicket of dark cypress trees and shrubbery. There was a light in one
- of the windows, the rest were barricaded with shutters. The house had
- a stone fence, an iron gate, strong doors. And--silence. At first
- glance it all looked suspicious. Toppi knocked. Again silence. I
- knocked. Still silence. Finally there came a gruff voice, asking from
- behind the iron door:
- "Who are you? What do you want?"
- Hardly mumbling with his parched tongue, my brave Toppi narrated the
- story of the catastrophe and our escape. He spoke at length and then
- came the click of a lock and the door was opened. Following behind
- our austere and silent stranger we entered the house, passed through
- several dark and silent rooms, walked up a flight of creaking stairs
- into a brightly lighted room, apparently the stranger's workroom.
- There was much light, many books, with one open beneath a low lamp
- shaded by a simple, green globe. We had not noticed this light in the
- field. But what astonished me was the silence of the house. Despite
- the rather early hour not a move, not a sound, not a voice was to be
- heard.
- "Have a seat."
- We sat down and Toppi, now almost in pain, began again to narrate his
- story. But the strange host interrupted him:
- "Yes, a catastrophe. They often occur on our roads. Were there many
- victims?"
- Toppi continued his prattle and the host, while listening to him, took
- a revolver out of his pocket and hid it in a table drawer, adding
- carelessly:
- "This is not--a particularly quiet neighborhood. Well, please, remain
- here."
- For the first time he raised his dark eyebrows and his large dim eyes
- and studied us intently as if he were gazing upon something savage in
- a museum. It was an impolite and brazen stare. I arose and said:
- "I fear that we are not welcome here, Signor, and----"
- He stopped Me with an impatient and slightly sarcastic gesture.
- "Nonsense, you remain here. I will get you some wine and food. My
- servant is here in the daytime only, so allow me to wait on you. You
- will find the bathroom behind this door. Go wash and freshen up while
- I get the wine. Make yourself at home."
- While we ate and drank--with savage relish, I confess--this
- unsympathetic gentleman kept on reading a book as if there were no
- one else in the room, undisturbed by Toppi's munching and the dog's
- struggle with a bone. I studied my host carefully. Almost my height,
- his pale face bore an expression of weariness. He had a black, oily,
- bandit-like beard. But his brow was high and his nose betrayed good
- sense. How would you describe it? Well, here again I seek comparisons.
- Imagine the nose betraying the story of a great, passionate,
- extraordinary, secret life. It is beautiful and seems to have been
- made not out of muscle and cartilage, but out of--what do you call
- it?--out of thoughts and brazen desires. He seems quite brave too. But
- I was particularly attracted by his hands: very big, very white and
- giving the impression of self-control. I do not know why his hands
- attracted me so much. But suddenly I thought: how beautifully exact
- the number of fingers, exactly ten of them, ten thin, evil, wise,
- crooked fingers!
- I said politely:
- "Thank you, signor----"
- He replied:
- "My name is Magnus. Thomas Magnus. Have some wine? Americans?"
- I waited for Toppi to introduce me, according to the English custom,
- and I looked toward Magnus. One had to be an ignorant, illiterate
- animal not to know me.
- Toppi broke in:
- "Mr. Henry Wondergood of Illinois. His secretary, Irwin Toppi, your
- obedient servant. Yes, citizens of the United States."
- The old buffoon blurted out his tirade, evincing a thorough lack of
- pride, and Magnus--yes, he was a little startled. Billions, my friend,
- billions. He gazed at Me long and intently:
- "Mr. Wondergood? Henry Wondergood? Are you not, sir, that American
- billionaire who seeks to bestow upon humanity the benefits of his
- billions?"
- I modestly shook my head in the affirmative.
- "Yes, I am the gentleman."
- Toppi shook his head in affirmation--the ass:
- "Yes, we are the gentlemen."
- Magnus bowed and said with a tinge of irony in his voice:
- "Humanity is awaiting you, Mr. Wondergood. Judging by the Roman
- newspapers it is extremely impatient. But I must crave your pardon for
- this very modest meal: I did not know...."
- I seized his large, strangely warm hand and shaking it violently, in
- American fashion, I said:
- "Nonsense, Signor Magnus. I was a swine-herd before I became a
- billionaire, while you are a straightforward, honest and noble
- gentleman, whose hand I press with the utmost respect. The devil take
- it, not a single human face has yet aroused in me as much sympathy as
- yours!"
- Magnus said....
- Magnus said nothing! I cannot continue this: "I said," "he
- said,"--This cursed consistency is deadly to my inspiration. It
- transforms me into a silly romanticist of a boulevard sheet and makes
- me lie like a mediocrity. I have five senses. I am a complete human
- being and yet I speak only of the hearing. And how about the sight? I
- assure you it did not remain idle. And this sensation of the earth,
- of Italy, of My existence which I now perceive with a new and sweet
- strength! You imagine that all I did was to listen to wise Thomas
- Magnus. He speaks and I gaze, understand, answer, while I think: what
- a beautiful earth, what a beautiful Campagna di Roma! I persisted in
- penetrating the recesses of the house, into its locked silent rooms.
- With every moment my joy mounted at the thought that I am alive, that
- I can speak and play and, suddenly, I rather liked the idea of being
- human.
- I remember that I held out my card to Magnus. "Henry Wondergood." He
- was surprised, but laid the card politely on the table. I felt like
- implanting a kiss on his brow for this politeness, for the fact
- that he too was human. I, too, am human. I was particularly proud
- of my foot encased in a fine, tan leather shoe and I persisted in
- swinging it: swing on beautiful, human, American foot! I was extremely
- emotional that evening! I even wanted to weep: to look my host
- straight in the eyes and to squeeze out of my own eyes, so full of
- love and goodness, two little tears. I actually did it, for at that
- moment I felt a little pleasant sting in my nose, as if it had been
- hit by a spurt of lemonade. I observed that my two little tears made
- an impression upon Magnus.
- But Toppi!--While I experienced this wondrous poem of feeling human
- and even of weeping,--he slept like a dead one at the very same table.
- I was rather angered. This was really going too far. I wanted to shout
- at him, but Magnus restrained me:
- "He has had a good deal of excitement and is weary, Mr. Wondergood."
- The hour had really grown late. We had been talking and arguing with
- Magnus for two hours when Toppi fell asleep. I sent him off to bed
- while we continued to talk and drink for quite a while. I drank more
- wine, but Magnus restrained himself. There was a dimness about his
- face. I was beginning to develop an admiration for his grim and, at
- times, evil, secretive countenance. He said:
- "I believe in your altruistic passion, Mr. Wondergood. But I do not
- believe that you, a man of wisdom and of action, and, it seems to me,
- somewhat cold, could place any serious hopes upon your money----"
- "Three billion dollars--that is a mighty power, Magnus!"
- "Yes, three billion dollars, a mighty power, indeed," he agreed,
- rather unwillingly--"but what will you do with it?"
- I laughed.
- "You probably want to say what can this ignoramus of an American, this
- erstwhile swine-herd, who knows swine better than he knows men, do
- with the money?"
- "The first business helps the other," said Magnus.
- "I dare say you have but a slight opinion of this foolish
- philanthropist whose head has been turned by his gold," said I.
- "Yes, to be sure, what can I do? I can open another university in
- Chicago, or another maternity hospital in San Francisco, or another
- humanitarian reformatory in New York."
- "The latter would be a distinct work of mercy," quoth Magnus. "Do not
- gaze at me with such reproach, Mr. Wondergood: I am not jesting.
- You will find in me the same pure love for humanity which burns so
- fiercely in you."
- He was laughing at me and I felt pity for him: not to love people!
- Miserable, unfortunate Magnus. I could kiss his brow with great
- pleasure! Not to love people!
- "Yes, I do not love them," affirmed Magnus, "but I am glad that
- you do not intend to travel the conventional road of all American
- philanthropists. Your billions----"
- "Three billions, Magnus! One could build a nation on this money----"
- "Yes?----"
- "Or destroy a nation," said I. "With this gold, Magnus, one can start
- a war or a revolution----"
- "Yes?----"
- I actually succeeded in arousing his interest: his large white hands
- trembled slightly and in his eyes there gleamed for a moment a look of
- respect: "You, Wondergood, are not as foolish as I thought!" He arose,
- paced up and down the room, and halting before me asked sneeringly:
- "And you know exactly what your humanity needs most: the creation
- of a new or the destruction of the old state? War or peace? Rest or
- revolution? Who are you, Mr. Wondergood of Illinois, that you essay
- to solve _these_ problems? You had better keep on building your
- maternity hospitals and universities. That is far less dangerous work."
- I liked the man's hauteur. I bowed my head modestly and said:
- "You are right, Signor Magnus. Who am I, Henry Wondergood, to
- undertake the solution of these problems? But I do not intend to solve
- them. I merely indicate them. I indicate them and I seek the solution.
- I seek the solution and the man who can give it to me. I have never
- read a serious book carefully. I see you have quite a supply of books
- here. You are a misanthrope, Magnus. You are too much of a European
- not to be easily disillusioned in things, while we, young America,
- believe in humanity. A man must be created. You in Europe are bad
- craftsmen and have created a bad man. We shall create a better one.
- I beg your pardon for my frankness. As long as I was merely Henry
- Wondergood I devoted myself only to the creation of pigs--and my pigs,
- let me say to you, have been awarded no fewer medals and decorations
- than Field Marshal Moltke. But now I desire to create people."
- Magnus smiled:
- "You are an alchemist, Wondergood: you would transform lead into gold!"
- "Yes, I want to create gold and I seek the philosopher's stone.
- But has it not already been found? It has been found, only you do
- not know how to use it: It is love. Ah, Magnus, I do not know yet
- what I will do, but my plans are heroic and magnificent. If not for
- that misanthropic smile of yours I might go further. Believe in Man,
- Magnus, and give me your aid. You know what Man needs most."
- He said coldly and with sadness:
- "He needs prisons and gallows."
- I exclaimed in anger (I am particularly adept in feigning anger):
- "You are slandering me, Magnus! I see that you must have experienced
- some very great misfortune, perhaps treachery and----"
- "Hold on, Wondergood! I never speak of myself and do not like to hear
- others speak of me. Let it be sufficient for you to know that you are
- the first man in four years to break in upon my solitude and this only
- due to chance. I do not like people."
- "Oh, pardon. But I do not believe it."
- Magnus went over to the bookcase and with an expression of supreme
- contempt he seized the first volume he laid his hands upon.
- "And you who have read no books," he said, "do you know what these
- books are about? Only about evil, about the mistakes and sufferings
- of humanity. They are filled with tears and blood, Wondergood.
- Look: in this thin little book which I clasp between two fingers is
- contained a whole ocean of human blood, and if you should take all of
- them together----. And who has spilled this blood? The devil?"
- I felt flattered and wanted to bow in acknowledgment, but he threw the
- book aside and shouted:
- "No, sir: Man! Man has spilled this blood! Yes, I do read books but
- only for one purpose; to learn how to hate man and to hold him in
- contempt. You, Wondergood, have transformed your pigs into gold, yes?
- And I can see how your gold is being transformed back again into pigs.
- They will devour you, Wondergood. But I do not wish either to prattle
- or to lie: Throw your money into the sea or--build some new prisons
- and gallows. You are vain like all men. Then go on building gallows.
- You will be respected by serious people, while the flock in general
- will call you great. Or, don't you, American from Illinois, want to
- get into the Pantheon?"
- "No, Magnus!----"
- "Blood!" cried Magnus. "Can't you see that it is everywhere? Here it
- is on your boot now----"
- I confess that at the moment Magnus appeared to be insane. I jerked my
- foot in sudden fear and only then did I perceive a dark, reddish spot
- on my shoe--how dastardly!
- Magnus smiled and immediately regaining his composure continued calmly
- and without emotion:
- "I have unwittingly startled you, Mr. Wondergood? Nonsense! You
- probably stepped on something inadvertently. A mere trifle. But this
- conversation, a conversation I have not conducted for a number of
- years, makes me uneasy and--good night, Mr. Wondergood. To-morrow I
- shall have the honor of presenting you to my daughter, and now you
- will permit me----"
- And so on. In short, this gentleman conducted me to my room in a most
- impolite manner and well nigh put me to bed. I offered no resistance:
- why should I? I must say that I did not like him at this moment. I was
- even pleased when he turned to go but, suddenly, he turned at the very
- threshold and stepping forward, stretched out his large white hands.
- And murmured:
- "Do you see these hands? There is blood on them! Let it be the blood
- of a scoundrel, a torturer, a tyrant, but it is the same, red human
- blood. Good night!"
- --He spoiled my night for me. I swear by eternal salvation that on
- that night I felt great pleasure in being a man, and I made myself
- thoroughly at home in his narrow human skin. It made me feel
- uncomfortable in the armpits. You see, I bought it ready made and
- thought that it would be as comfortable as if it had been made to
- measure! I was highly emotional. I was extremely good and affable. I
- was very eager to play, but I was not inclined to tragedy! Blood! How
- can any person of good breeding thrust his white hands under the nose
- of a stranger--Hangmen have very white hands!
- Do not think I am jesting. I did not feel well. In the daytime I still
- manage to subdue Wondergood but at night he lays his hands upon me.
- It is he who fills me with his silly dreams and shakes within me his
- entire dusty archive--And how godlessly silly and meaningless are
- his dreams! He fusses about within me all night long like a returned
- master, seems to be looking about for something, grumbles about losses
- and wear and tear and sneezes and cavorts about like a dog lying
- uncomfortable on its bed. It is he who draws me in at night like a
- mass of wet lime into the depths of miserable humanity, where I nearly
- choke to death. When I awake in the morning I feel that Wondergood has
- infused ten more degrees of human into me--Think of it: He may soon
- eject me all together and leave me standing outside--he, the miserable
- owner of an empty barn into which I brought breath and soul!
- Like a hurried thief I crawled into a stranger's clothes, the pockets
- of which are bulging with forged promissory notes--no, still worse!
- It is not only uncomfortable attire. It is a low, dark and stifling
- jail, wherein I occupy less space than a ring might in the stomach of
- Wondergood. You, my dear reader, have been hidden in your prison from
- childhood and you even seem to like it, but I--I come from the kingdom
- of liberty. And I refuse to be Wondergood's tape worm: one swallow
- of poison and I am free again. What will you say then, scoundrel
- Wondergood? Without me you will be devoured by the worms. You will
- crack open at the seams--Miserable carcass! touch me not!
- On this night however I was in the absolute power of Wondergood. What
- is human blood to Me? What do I care about the troubles of _their_
- life! But Wondergood was quite aroused by the crazy Magnus. Suddenly
- I felt--just think of it--! That I am filled with blood, like the
- bladder of an ox, and the bladder is very thin and weak, so that it
- would be dangerous to prick it. Prick it and out spurts the blood! I
- was terrified at the idea that I might be killed in this house: That
- some one might cut my throat and turning me upside down, hanging by
- the legs, would let the blood run out upon the floor.
- I lay in the darkness and strained my ears to hear whether or not
- Magnus was approaching with his white hands. And the greater the
- silence in this cursed house the more terrified I grew. Even Toppi
- failed to snore as usual. This made me angry. Then my body began to
- ache. Perhaps I was injured in the wreck, or was it weariness brought
- on by the flight? Then my body began to itch in the most ordinary way
- and I even began to move the feet: it was the appearance of the jovial
- clown in the tragedy!
- Suddenly a dream seized Me by the feet and dragged me rapidly below.
- I hardly had time enough to shout. And what nonsense arose before me!
- Do you ever have such dreams? I felt that I was a bottle of champagne,
- with a thin neck and sealed, but filled not with wine but with blood!
- And it seemed that not only I but all people had become bottles with
- sealed tops and all of us were arranged in a row on a seashore. And,
- Someone horrible was approaching from Somewhere and wanted to smash
- us all. And I saw how foolish it would be to do so and wanted to
- shout: "Don't smash them. Get a corkscrew!" But I had no voice. I was
- a bottle. Suddenly the dead lackey George approached. In his hands
- was a huge sharp corkscrew. He said something and seized me by the
- throat--Ah, ah, by the throat!----
- I awoke in pain. Apparently he did try to open me up. My wrath was
- so great that I neither sighed nor smiled nor moved. I simply killed
- Wondergood again. I gnashed my teeth, straightened out my eyes, closed
- them calmly, stretched out at full length and lay peacefully in the
- full consciousness of the greatness of my Ego. Had the ocean itself
- moved up on me I would not have batted an eye! Get thee hence, my
- friend, I wish to be alone.
- And the body grew silent, colorless, airy and empty again. With
- light step I left it and before my eyes there arose a vision of the
- _extraordinary_, that which cannot be expressed in your language,
- my poor friend! Satisfy your curiosity with the dream I have just
- confided to you and ask no more! Or does not the "huge, sharp
- corkscrew" suit you? But it is so--artistic!
- * * * * *
- In the morning I was well again, refreshed and beautiful. I yearned
- for the play, like an actor who has just left his dressing room.
- Of course I did not forget to shave. This canaille Wondergood
- gets overgrown with hair as quickly as his golden skinned pigs. I
- complained about this to Toppi with whom, while waiting for Magnus,
- I was walking in the garden. And Toppi, thinking a while, replied
- philosophically:
- "Yes, man sleeps and his beard grows. This is as it should be--for the
- barbers!"
- Magnus appeared. He was no more hospitable than yesterday and his pale
- face carried unmistakable indications of weariness. But he was calm
- and polite. How black his beard is in the daytime! He pressed my hand
- in cold politeness and said: (we were perched on a wall.)
- "You are enjoying the Roman Campagna, Mr. Wondergood? A magnificent
- sight! It is said that the Campagna is noted for its fevers, but there
- is but one fever it produces in me--the fever of thought!"
- Apparently Wondergood did not have much of a liking for nature, and
- I have not yet managed to develop a taste for earthly landscape: an
- empty field for me. I cast my eyes politely over the countryside
- before us and said:
- "People interest me more, Signor Magnus."
- He gazed at me intently with his dark eyes and lowering his voice said
- dryly and with apparent reluctance:
- "Just two words about people, Mr. Wondergood. You will soon see my
- daughter, Maria. She is my three billions. You understand?"
- I nodded my head in approval.
- "But your California does not produce such gold. Neither does any
- other country on this dirty earth. It is the gold of the heavens. I am
- not a believer, Mr. Wondergood, but even I experience some doubts when
- I meet the gaze of my Maria. Hers are the only hands into which you
- might without the slightest misgiving place your billions----"
- I am an old bachelor and I was overcome with fear, but Magnus
- continued sternly with a ring of triumph in his voice:
- "But she will not accept them, Sir! Her gentle hands must never touch
- this golden dirt. Her clean eyes will never behold any sight but
- that of this endless, godless Campagna. Here is her monastery, Mr.
- Wondergood, and there is but one exit for her from here: into the
- Kingdom of Heaven, if it does exist!"
- "I beg your pardon but I cannot understand this, my dear Magnus!" I
- protested in great joy. "Life and people----"
- The face of Thomas Magnus grew angry, as it did yesterday, and in
- stern ridicule, he interrupted me:
- "And I beg you to grasp, _dear_ Wondergood, that life and people are
- not for Maria. It is enough that I know them. My duty was to _warn_
- you. And now"--he again assumed the attitude of cold politeness--"I
- ask you to come to my table. You too, Mr. Toppi!"
- We had begun to eat, and were chattering of small matters, when
- _Maria_ entered. The door through which she entered was behind my
- back. I mistook her soft step for those of the maid carrying the
- dishes, but I was astonished by the long-nosed Toppi, sitting opposite
- me. His eyes grew round like circles, his face red, as if he were
- choking. His Adam's apple seemed to be lifted above his neck as if
- driven by a wave, and to disappear again somewhere behind his narrow,
- ministerial collar. Of course, I thought he was choking to death with
- a fishbone and shouted:
- "Toppi! What is the matter with you? Take some water."
- But Magnus was already on his feet, announcing coldly:
- "My daughter, Maria. Mr. Henry Wondergood!"
- I turned about quickly and--how can I express the extraordinary when
- it is inexpressible? It was something more than beautiful. It was
- terrible in its beauty. I do not want to seek comparisons. I shall
- leave that to you. Take all that you have ever seen or ever known
- of the beautiful on earth: the lily, the stars, the sun, but add,
- add still more. But not this was the awful aspect of it: There was
- something else: the elusive yet astonishing similarity--to whom? Whom
- have I met upon this earth who was so beautiful--so beautiful and
- awe-inspiring--awe-inspiring and unapproachable. I have learned by
- this time your entire archive, Wondergood, and I do not believe that
- it comes from your modest gallery!
- "Madonna!" mumbled Toppi in a hoarse voice, scared out of his wits.
- So that is it! Yes, Madonna. The fool was right, and I, Satan, could
- understand his terror. Madonna, whom people see only in churches, in
- paintings, in the imagination of artists. Maria, the name which rings
- only in hymns and prayer books, heavenly beauty, mercy, forgiveness
- and love! Star of the Seas! Do you like that name: Star of the Seas?
- It was really devilishly funny. I made a deep bow and almost blurted
- out:
- "Madam, I beg pardon for my unbidden intrusion, but I really did not
- expect to meet you _here_. I most humbly beg your pardon, but I could
- not imagine that this black bearded fellow has the honor of having you
- for his daughter. A thousand times I crave your pardon for----"
- But enough. I said something else.
- "How do you do, Signorina. It is indeed a pleasure."
- And she really did not indicate in any way that she was _already_
- acquainted with Me. One must respect an incognito if one would remain
- a gentleman and only a scoundrel would dare to tear a mask from a
- lady's face! This would have been all the more impossible, because her
- father, Thomas Magnus, continued to urge us with a chuckle:
- "Do eat, please, Mr. Toppi. Why do you not drink, Mr. Wondergood? The
- wine is splendid."
- In the course of what followed:
- 1. She breathed--
- 2. She blinked--
- 3. She ate--
- and she was a beautiful girl, about eighteen years of age, and her
- dress was white and her throat bare. It was really laughable. I gazed
- at her bare neck and--believe me, my earthly friend: I am not easily
- seduced, I am not a romantic youth, but I am not old by any means,
- I am not at all bad looking, I enjoy an independent position in the
- world and--don't you like the combination: Satan and _Maria_? _Maria_
- and Satan! In evidence of the seriousness of my intentions I can
- submit at that moment I thought more of _our_ descendants and sought a
- name for _our_ first-born than indulged in frivolity.
- Suddenly Toppi's Adam's apple gave a jerk and he inquired hoarsely:
- "Has any one ever painted your portrait, Signorina?"
- "Maria never poses for painters!" broke in Magnus sternly. I felt like
- laughing at the fool Toppi. I had already opened wide my mouth, filled
- with a set of first-class American teeth, when Maria's pure gaze
- pierced my eyes and everything flew to the devil,--as in that moment
- of the railway catastrophe! You understand: she turned me inside out,
- like a stocking--or how shall I put it? My fine Parisian costume was
- driven inside of me and my still finer thoughts which, however, I
- would not have wanted to convey to the lady, suddenly appeared upon
- the surface. With all my secrecy I was left no more sealed than a room
- in a fifteen cent lodging house.
- But she _forgave_ me, said nothing and threw her gaze like a projector
- in the direction of Toppi, illumining his entire body. You, too, would
- have laughed had you seen how this poor old devil was set aglow and
- aflame by this gaze--clear from the prayer book to the fishbone with
- which he nearly choked to death.
- Fortunately for both of us Magnus arose and invited us to follow him
- into the garden.
- "Come, let us go into the garden," said he. "Maria will show you her
- favorite flowers."
- Yes, Maria! But seek no songs of praise from me, oh poet! I was mad!
- I was as provoked as a man whose closet has just been ransacked by a
- burglar. I wanted to gaze at Maria but was compelled to look upon the
- foolish flowers--because I dared not lift my eyes. I am a gentleman
- and cannot appear before a lady without a necktie. I was seized by a
- curious humility. Do you like to feel humble? I do not.
- I do not know what Maria said. But I swear by eternal salvation--her
- gaze, and her entire uncanny countenance was the embodiment of an
- all-embracing meaning so that any wise word I might have uttered would
- have sounded meaningless. The wisdom of words is necessary only for
- those poor in spirit. The right are silent. Take note of that, little
- poet, sage and eternal chatterbox, wherever you may be. Let it be
- sufficient for you that I have humbled myself to speak.
- Ah, but I have forgotten my humility! She walked and I and Toppi
- crawled after her. I detested myself and this broad-backed Toppi
- because of his hanging nose and large, pale ears. What was needed here
- was an Apollo and not a pair of ordinary Americans.
- We felt quite relieved when she had gone and we were left alone with
- Magnus. It was all so sweet and simple! Toppi abandoned his religious
- airs and I crossed my legs comfortably, lit a cigar, and fixed my
- steel-sharp gaze upon the whites of Magnus's eyes.
- "You must be off to Rome, Mr. Wondergood. They are probably worrying
- about you," said our host in a tone of loving concern.
- "I can send Toppi," I replied. He smiled and added ironically:
- "I hardly think that would be sufficient, Mr. Wondergood!"
- I sought to clasp his great white hand but it did not seem to move
- closer. But I caught it just the same, pressed it warmly and he was
- compelled to return the pressure!
- "Very well, Signor Magnus! I am off at once!" I said.
- "I have already sent for the carriage," he replied. "Is not the
- Campagna beautiful in the morning?"
- I again took a polite look at the country-side and said with emotion:
- "Yes, it is beautiful! Irwin, my friend, leave us for a moment. I have
- a few words to say to Signor Magnus----"
- Toppi left and Signor Magnus opened wide his big sad eyes. I again
- tried my steel on him, and bending forward closer to his dark face, I
- asked:
- "Have you ever observed _dear_ Magnus, the very striking resemblance
- between your daughter, the Signorina Maria, and a certain--celebrated
- personage? Don't you think she resembles the Madonna?"
- "Madonna?" drawled out Magnus. "No, _dear_ Wondergood, I haven't
- noticed that. I never go to church. But I fear you will be late. The
- Roman fever----"
- I again seized his white hand and shook it vigorously. No, I did not
- tear it off. And from my eyes there burst forth again _those_ two
- tears:
- "Let us speak plainly, Signor Magnus," said I. "I am a straightforward
- man and have grown to love you. Do you want to come along with me and
- be the lord of my billions?"
- Magnus was silent. His hand lay motionless in mine. His eyes were
- lowered and something dark seemed to pass over his face, then
- immediately to disappear. Finally he said, seriously and simply:
- "I understand you, Mr. Wondergood--but I must refuse. No, I will not
- go with you. I have failed to tell you one thing, but your frankness
- and confidence in me compels me to say that I must, to a certain
- extent, steer clear of the police."
- "The Roman police," I asked, betraying a slight excitement. "Nonsense,
- we shall buy it."
- "No, the international," he replied. "I hope you do not think that I
- have committed some base crime. The trouble is not with police which
- can be bought. You are right, Mr. Wondergood, when you say that one
- can buy almost any one. The truth is that I can be of no use to you.
- What do you want me for? You love humanity and I detest it. At best I
- am indifferent to it. Let it live and not interfere with me. Leave me
- my Maria, leave me the right and strength to detest people as I read
- the history of their life. Leave me my Campagna and that is all I want
- and all of which I am capable. All the oil within me has burned out,
- Wondergood. You see before you an extinguished lamp hanging on a wall,
- a lamp which once--Goodbye."
- "I do not ask your confidence, Magnus," I interjected.
- "Pardon me, you will never receive it, Mr. Wondergood. My name is an
- invention but it is the only one I can offer to my friends."
- To tell the truth: I liked "Thomas Magnus" at that moment. He spoke
- bravely and simply. In his face one could read stubbornness and
- will. This man knew the value of human life and had the mien of one
- condemned to death. But it was the mien of a proud, uncompromising
- criminal, who will never accept the ministrations of a priest! For
- a moment I thought: My Father had many bastard children, deprived of
- legacy and wandering about the world. Perhaps Thomas Magnus is one of
- these wanderers? And is it possible that I have met a _brother_ on
- this earth? Very interesting. But from a purely human, business point
- of view, one cannot help but respect a man whose hands are steeped in
- blood!
- I saluted, changed my position, and in the humblest possible manner,
- asked Magnus's permission to visit him occasionally and seek his
- advice. He hesitated but finally looked me straight in the face and
- agreed.
- "Very well, Mr. Wondergood. You may come. I hope to hear from you
- things that may supplement the knowledge I glean from my books.
- And, by the way, Mr. Toppi has made an excellent impression upon my
- Maria"----
- "Toppi?"
- "Yes. She has found a striking resemblance between him and one of her
- favorite saints. She goes to church frequently."
- Toppi a saint! Or has his prayer book overbalanced his huge back and
- the fishbone in his throat. Magnus gazed at me almost gently and only
- his thin nose seemed to tremble slightly with restrained laughter.--It
- is very pleasant to know that behind this austere exterior there is
- so much quiet and restrained merriment!
- It was twilight when we left. Magnus followed us to the threshold, but
- Maria remained in seclusion. The little white house surrounded by the
- cypress trees was as quiet and silent as we found it yesterday, but
- the silence was of a different character: the silence was the soul of
- Maria.
- I confess that I felt rather sad at this departure but very soon
- came a new series of impressions, which dispelled this feeling. We
- were approaching Rome. We entered the brightly illuminated, densely
- populated streets through some opening in the city wall and the
- first thing we saw in the Eternal City was a creaking trolley car,
- trying to make its way through the same hole in the wall. Toppi, who
- was acquainted with Rome, revelled in the familiar atmosphere of
- the churches we were passing and indicated with his long finger the
- _remnants_ of ancient Rome which seemed to be clinging to the huge
- wall of the new structures: just as if the latter had been bombarded
- with the shells of old and fragments of the missiles had clung to the
- bricks.
- Here and there we came upon additional heaps of this old rubbish.
- Above a low parapet of stone, we observed a dark shallow ditch and a
- large triumphal gate, half sunk in the earth. "The Forum!" exclaimed
- Toppi, majestically. Our coachman nodded his head in affirmation.
- With every new pile of old stone and brick the fellow swelled with
- pride, while I longed for my New York and its skyscrapers, and tried
- to calculate the number of trucks that would be necessary to clear
- these heaps of rubbish called ancient Rome away before morning. When I
- mentioned this to Toppi he was insulted and replied:
- "You don't understand anything: better close your eyes and just
- reflect that you are in Rome."
- I did so and was again convinced that sight is as much of an
- impediment to the mind as sound: not without reason are all wise folk
- on the earth blind and all good musicians deaf.
- Like Toppi I began to sniff the air and through my sense of smell I
- gathered more of Rome and its horribly long and highly entertaining
- history than hitherto: thus a decaying leaf in the woods smells
- stronger than the young and green foliage. Will you believe me when
- I say that I sensed the odor of blood and Nero? But when I opened my
- eyes expectantly I observed a plain, everyday kiosk and a lemonade
- stand.
- "Well, how do you like it?" growled Toppi, still dissatisfied.
- "It smells----"
- "Well, certainly it smells! It will smell stronger with every hour:
- these are old, strong aromas, Mr. Wondergood."
- And so it really was: the odor grew in strength. I cannot find
- comparisons to make it clear to you. All the sections of my brain
- began to move and buzz like bees aroused by smoke. It is strange, but
- it seems that Rome is included in the archive of the silly Wondergood.
- Perhaps this is his native town? When we approached a certain populous
- square I sensed the clear odor of some blood relatives, which was
- soon followed by the conviction that I, too, have walked these
- streets before. Have I, like Toppi, previously donned the human form?
- Ever louder buzzed the bees. My entire beehive buzzed and suddenly
- thousands of faces, dim and white, beautiful and horrible, began to
- dance before me; thousands upon thousands of voices, noises, cries,
- laughters and sighs nearly set me deaf. No, this was no longer a
- beehive: it was a huge, fiery smithy, where firearms were being forged
- with the red sparks flying all about. Iron!
- Of course, if I had lived in Rome before, I must have been one of
- its emperors: I _remember_ the expression of my face. I remember the
- movement of my bare neck as I turn my head. I remember the touch of
- golden laurels upon my bald head--Iron! Ah, I hear the steps of the
- iron legions of Rome. I hear the iron voices: "Vivat Cæsar!"
- I am hot. I am burning. Or was I not an emperor but simply one of the
- "victims" when Rome burned down in accordance with the magnificent
- plan of Nero? No, this is not a fire. This is a funeral pyre on which
- I am forcibly esconsced. I hear the snake-like hissing of the tongues
- of flame beneath my feet. I strain my neck, all lined with blue veins,
- and in my throat there rises the final curse--or blessing? Think of
- it: I even remember that Roman face in the front row of spectators,
- which even then gave me no rest because of its idiotic expression and
- sleepy eyes: I am being burned and it sleeps!
- "Hotel 'Internationale'"--cried Toppi, and I opened my eyes.
- We were going up a hill along a quiet street, at the end of which
- there glowed a large structure, worthy even of New York: it was
- the hotel where we had previously wired for reservations. They
- probably thought we had perished in the wreck. My funeral pyre was
- extinguished. I grew as merry as a darkey who has just escaped from
- hard labor and I whispered to Toppi:
- "Well, Toppi, and how about the Madonna?"
- "Y-yes, interesting. I was frightened at first and nearly choked to
- death----"
- "With a bone? You are silly, Toppi: she is polite and did not
- recognize you. She simply took you for one of her saints. It is
- a pity, old boy, that we have chosen for ourselves these solemn,
- American faces: had we looked around more carefully we might have
- found some more beautiful."
- "I am quite satisfied with mine," said Toppi sadly, and turned away. A
- glow of secret self-satisfaction appeared upon his long, shiny nose.
- Ah, Toppi, Ah, the saint!
- But we were already being accorded a triumphal reception.
- February 14.
- Rome, Hotel "Internationale."
- I do not want to go to Magnus. I am thinking too much of his Madonna
- of flesh and bone. I have come here to lie and to play merrily and
- I am not at all taken by the prospect of being a mediocre actor,
- who weeps behind the scenes and appears on the stage with his eyes
- perfectly dry. Moreover, I have no time to gad about the fields
- catching butterflies with a net like a boy.
- The whole of Rome is buzzing about me. I am an extraordinary man,
- who loves his fellow beings and I am celebrated. The mobs who flock
- to worship Me are no less numerous than those who worship the Vicar
- of Christ himself, two Popes all at once.--Yes, happy Rome cannot
- consider itself an orphan!
- I am now living at the hotel, where all is aquiver with ecstacy when
- I put my shoes outside my door for the night, but they are renovating
- a palace for me: the historic Villa Orsini. Painters, sculptors and
- poets are kept busy. One brush-pusher is already painting my portrait,
- assuring me that I remind him of one of the Medicis. The other
- brush-pushers are sharpening their knives for him.
- I ask him:
- "And can you paint a Madonna?"
- Certainly he can. It was he, if the signor recollects, who painted the
- famous Turk on the cigarette boxes, the Turk whose fame is known even
- in America. And now three brush-pushers are painting Madonnas for me.
- The rest are running about Rome seeking models. I said to one, in my
- barbarous, American ignorance of the higher arts:
- "But if you find such a model, Signor, just bring her to me. Why waste
- paint and canvas?"
- He was evidently pained and mumbled:
- "Ah, Signor--a model?"
- I think he took me for a merchant in "live stock." But, fool, why do I
- need your aid for which I must pay a commission, when my ante-chamber
- is filled with a flock of beauties? They all worship me. I remind them
- of Savanarola, and they seek to transform every dark corner in my
- drawing room, and every soft couch into a confessional. I am so glad
- that these society ladies, like the painters, know so well the history
- of their country and realize who I am.
- The joy of the Roman papers on finding that I did not perish in the
- wreck and lost neither my legs nor my billions, was equal to the
- joy of the papers of Jerusalem on the day of the resurrection of
- Christ--in reality there was little cause for satisfaction on the
- part of the latter, as far as I am able to read history. I feared
- that I might remind the journalists of J. Cæsar, but fortunately
- they think little of the past and confined themselves to pointing
- out my resemblance to President Wilson. Scoundrels! They were simply
- flattering my American patriotism. To the majority, however, I recall
- a Prophet, but they do not know which one. On this point they are
- modestly silent. At any rate it is not Mahomet: my opposition to
- marriage is well known at all telegraph stations.
- It is difficult to imagine the filth on which I fed my hungry
- interviewers. Like an experienced swine-herd, I gaze with horror on
- the mess they feed upon. They eat and yet they live. Although, I must
- admit, I do not see them growing fat! Yesterday morning I flew in an
- aeroplane over Rome and the Campagna. You will probably ask whether I
- saw Maria's home? No. I did not find it: how can one find a grain of
- sand among a myriad of other grains--But I really did not look for it:
- I felt horror-stricken at the great altitude.
- But my good interviewers, restless and impatient, were astounded by
- my coolness and courage. One fellow, strong, surly and bearded, who
- reminded me of Hannibal, was the first to reach me after the flight,
- and asked:
- "Did not the sensation of flying in the air, Mr. Wondergood, the
- feeling of having conquered the elements, thrill you with a sense of
- pride in man, who has subdued----"
- He repeated the question: they don't seem to trust me, somehow, and
- are always suggesting the proper answers. But I shrugged my shoulders
- and exclaimed sadly:
- "Can you imagine Signor--No! Only once did I have a sense of pride in
- men and that was--in the lavatory on board the 'Atlantic.'"
- "Oh! In the lavatory! But what happened? A storm, and you were
- astounded by the genius of man, who has subdued----"
- "Nothing extraordinary happened. But I was astounded by the genius of
- man who managed to create a palace out of such a disgusting necessity
- as a lavatory."
- "Oh!"
- "A real temple, in which one is the arch priest!"
- "Permit me to make a note of that. It is such an
- original--illumination of the problem----"
- And to-day the whole Eternal City was feeding on this sally. Not only
- did they not request me to leave the place, but on the contrary, this
- was the day of the first official visits to my apartments: something
- on the order of a minister of state, an ambassador or some other
- palace chef came and poured sugar and cinnamon all over me as if I
- were a pudding. Later in the day I returned the visits: it is not very
- pleasant to keep such things.
- Need I say that I have a nephew? Every American millionaire has a
- nephew in Europe. My nephew's name is also Wondergood. He is connected
- with some legation, is very correct in manners and his bald spot
- is so oiled that my kiss could serve me as a breakfast were I fond
- of scented oil. But one must be willing to sacrifice something,
- especially the gratification of a sense of smell. The kiss cost me not
- a cent, while it meant a great deal to the young man. It opened for
- him a wide credit on soap and perfumery.
- But enough! When I look at these ladies and gentlemen and reflect
- that they are just as they were at the court of Aschurbanipal and
- that for the past 2000 years the pieces of silver received by Judas
- continue to bear interest, like his kiss--I grow bored with this old
- and threadbare play. Ah, I want a great play. I seek originality
- and talent. I want beautiful lines and bold strokes. This company
- here casts me in the rôle of an old brass band conductor. At times I
- come to the conclusion that it wasn't really worth my while to have
- undertaken such a long journey for the sake of this old drivel--to
- exchange ancient, magnificent and multi-colored Hell for its miserable
- replica. In truth, I am sorry that Magnus and his Madonna refused to
- join me--we would have played a little--just a little!
- I have had but one interesting morning. In fact I was quite excited.
- The congregation of a so-called "free" church, composed of very
- serious men and women, who insist upon worshipping in accordance
- with the dictates of their conscience, invited Me to deliver a
- Sunday sermon. I donned a black frock coat, which gave me a close
- resemblance to--Toppi, went through a number of particularly
- expressive gestures before my mirror and was driven in an automobile,
- like a prophet--moderne, to the service. I took as my subject or
- "text" Jesus' advice to the rich youth to distribute his wealth
- among the poor--and in not more than half an hour, I demonstrated as
- conclusively as 2 and 2 make 4, that love of one's neighbor is the
- all important thing. Like a practical and careful American, however,
- I pointed out that it was not necessary to try and go after the whole
- of the kingdom of Heaven at one shot and to distribute one's wealth
- carelessly; that one can buy it up in lots on the instalment plan and
- by easy payments. The faces of the faithful bore a look of extreme
- concentration. They were apparently figuring out something and came to
- the conclusion that on the basis I suggested, the Kingdom of Heaven
- was attainable for the pockets of all of them.
- Unfortunately, a number of my quick-witted compatriots were present
- in the congregation. One of them was about to rise to his feet to
- propose the formation of a stock company, when I realized the danger
- and frustrated this plan by letting loose a fountain of emotion, and
- thus extinguished his religiously practical zeal! What did I not talk
- about? I wept for my sad childhood, spent in labor and privation; I
- whined about my poor father who perished in a match factory. I prayed
- solemnly for all my brothers and sisters in Christ. The swamp I
- created was so huge that the journalists caught enough wild ducks to
- last them for six months. How we wept!
- I shivered with the dampness and began to beat energetically the drum
- of my billions: dum-dum! Everything for others, not a cent for me:
- dum-dum! With a brazenness worthy of the whip I concluded "with the
- words of the Great Teacher:"
- "Come ye unto me all who are heavy-laden and weary and I will comfort
- ye!"
- Ah, what a pity I cannot perform miracles! A little practical miracle,
- something on the order of transforming a bottle of water into one
- of sour Chianti or some of the worshippers into pastry, would have
- gone a long way at that moment.--You laugh and are angry, my earthy
- reader? There is no reason for you to act thus. Remember only that the
- _extraordinary_ cannot be expressed in your ventriloquist language and
- that my words are merely a cursed mask for my thoughts.
- Maria!
- You will read of my success in the newspapers. There was one fool,
- however, who almost spoiled my day for me: he was a member of the
- Salvation Army. He came to see me and suggested that I immediately
- take up a trumpet and lead the army into battle--they were too
- cheap laurels he offered and I drove him out. But Toppi--he was
- triumphantly silent all the way home and finally he said very
- respectfully:
- "You were in fine mettle to-day, Mr. Wondergood. I even wept. It is a
- pity that neither Magnus nor his daughter heard you preach, She--she
- would have changed her opinion of us."
- You understand, of course, that I felt like kicking this admirer out
- of the carriage! I again felt in the pupils of my eyes the piercing
- sting of hers. The speed with which I was again turned inside out and
- spread out on a plate for the public's view is equal only to that
- with which an experienced waiter opens a can of conserves. I drew my
- top hat over my eyes, raised the collar of my coat and looking very
- much like a tragedian just hissed off the stage, I rode silently, and
- without acknowledging the greetings showered upon me, I proceeded
- to my apartments. Ah, that gaze of Maria! And how could I have
- acknowledged the greetings when I had no cane with me?
- I have declined all of to-day's invitations and am at home: I am
- engaged in "religious meditation"--this was how Toppi announced it
- to the journalists. He has really begun to respect me. Before me are
- whiskey and champagne. I am slowly filling up on the liquor while
- from the dining hall below come the distant strains of music. My
- Wondergood was apparently considerable of a drunkard and every night
- he drags me to the wineshop, to which I interpose no objection. What's
- the difference? Fortunately his intoxication is of a merry kind and we
- make quite a pleasant time of it. At first we cast our dull eyes over
- the furniture and involuntarily begin to calculate the value of all
- this bronze, these carpets, Venetian mirrors, etc.
- "A trifle!" we agree, and with peculiar self-satisfaction we lose
- ourselves in the contemplation of our own billions, of our power
- and our remarkable wisdom and character. Our bliss increases with
- each additional glass. With peculiar pleasure we wallow in the cheap
- luxury of the hotel, and--think of it!--I am actually beginning to
- have a liking for bronze, carpets, glass and stones. My Puritan Toppi
- condemns luxury. It reminds him of Sodom and Gommorah. But it is
- difficult for me to part with these little emotional pleasures. How
- silly of me!
- We continue to listen dully and half-heartedly to the music and
- venture to whistle some accompaniments. We add a little contemplation
- on the decollete of the ladies and then, with our step still firm, we
- proceed to our resting room.
- But we were just ready for bed when suddenly I felt as if some one
- had struck me a blow and I was immediately seized with a tempest
- of tears, of love and sadness. The extraordinary suddenly found
- expression. I grew as broad as space, as deep as eternity and I
- embraced all in a single breath! But, oh, what sadness! Oh, what love,
- Maria!
- But I am nothing more than a subterranean lake in the belly of
- Wondergood and my storms in no way disturb his firm tread. I am only a
- solitaire in his stomach, of which he seeks to rid himself!
- We ring for the servants.
- "Soda!"
- I am simply drunk. Arrivederci, Signor, buona notte!
- February 18, 1914.
- Rome, Hotel "Internationale."
- Yesterday I visited Magnus. I was compelled to wait long for him, in
- the garden, and when he did appear he was so cold and indifferent that
- I felt like leaving. I observed a few gray hairs in his black beard. I
- had not noticed them before. Was Maria unwell? I appeared concerned.
- Everything here is so uncertain that on leaving a person for one hour
- one may have to seek him in eternity."
- "Maria is well, thank you," replied Magnus, frigidly. He seemed
- surprised as if my question were presumptuous and improper. "And how
- are your affairs, Mr. Wondergood? The Roman papers are filled with
- news of you. You are scoring a big success."
- With pain aggravated by the absence of Maria, I revealed to Magnus
- my disappointment and my ennui. I spoke well, not without wit and
- sarcasm. I grew more and more provoked by his lack of attention and
- interest, plainly written on his pale and weary face. Not once did he
- smile or venture to put any questions, but when I reached the story of
- my "nephew" he frowned in displeasure and said:
- "Fie! This is a cheap variety farce! How can you occupy yourself with
- such trifles, Mr. Wondergood?"
- I replied angrily:
- "But it is not I who am occupying myself with them, Signor Magnus!"
- "And how about the interviews? What about that flight of yours? You
- should drive them away. This humbles your...three billions. And is
- it true that you delivered some sort of a sermon?"
- The joy of play forsook me. Unwilling as Magnus was to listen to me, I
- told him all about my sermon and those credulous fools who swallowed
- sacrilege as they do marmalade.
- "And did you expect anything different, Mr. Wondergood?"
- "I expected that they would fall upon me with clubs for my audacity:
- When I sacrilegiously bandied about the words of the Testament...."
- "Yes, they are beautiful words," agreed Magnus. "But didn't you know
- that all their worship of God and all their faith are nothing but
- sacrilege? When they term a wafer the body of Christ, while some
- Sixtus or Pius reigns undisturbed, and with the approval of all
- Catholics as the Vicar of Christ, why should not you, an American from
- Illinois, call yourself at least...his governor? This is not meant
- as sacrilege, Mr. Wondergood. These are simply allegories, highly
- convenient for blockheads, and you are only wasting your wrath. But
- when will you get down to _business_?"
- I threw up my hands in skillfully simulated sorrow:
- "I _want_ to do something, but I _know_ not what to do. I shall
- probably never get down to business until you, Magnus, agree to come
- to my aid."
- He frowned, at his own large, motionless, white hands and then at me:
- "You are too credulous, Mr. Wondergood. This is a great fault when
- one has three billions. No, I am of no use to you. Our roads are far
- apart."
- "But, dear Magnus!..."
- I expected him to strike me for this gentle _dear_, which I uttered
- in my best possible falsetto. But I ventured to continue. With all
- the sweetness I managed to accumulate in Rome, I looked upon the dim
- physiognomy of my friend and in a still gentler falsetto, I asked:
- "And of what nationality are you, my _dear_...Signor Magnus? I
- suspect for some reason that you are not Italian?"
- He replied calmly:
- "No, I am not Italian."
- "But where is your country?----"
- "My country?... Omne solum liberam libero patria. I suppose you do
- not know Latin? It means: Where freedom is there is the fatherland of
- every free man. Will you take breakfast with me?"
- The invitation was couched in such icy tones and Maria's absence
- was so strongly implied therein that I was compelled to decline it
- politely. The devil take this man! I was not at all in a merry mood
- that morning. I fervently wished to weep upon his breast while he
- mercilessly threw cold showers upon my noblest transports. I sighed
- and changed my pose. I assumed a pose prepared especially for Maria.
- Speaking in a low voice, I said:
- "I want to be frank with you, Signor Magnus. My past...contains many
- dark pages, which I should like to redeem. I...."
- He quickly interrupted me:
- "There are dark pages in everybody's past, Mr. Wondergood. I myself am
- not so clear of reproach as to accept the confession of such a worthy
- gentleman."
- "I am a poor spiritual father," he added with a most unpleasant laugh:
- "_I never pardon sinners_ and, in view of that, what pleasure could
- there be for you in your confession. Better tell me something more
- about your nephew. Is he young?"
- We spoke about my nephew--and Magnus smiled. A pause ensued. Then
- Magnus asked whether I had visited the Vatican gallery and I bade him
- good-by, requesting him to transmit my compliments to Maria. I confess
- I was a sorry sight and felt deeply indebted to Magnus when he said in
- bidding me farewell:
- "Do not be angry with me, Mr. Wondergood. I am not altogether well
- to-day and...am rather worried about my affairs. That's all. I hope
- to be more pleasant when we meet again, but be so kind as to excuse me
- this morning. I shall see that Maria gets your compliments."
- If this blackbearded fellow were only _playing_, I confess I would
- have found a worthy partner.
- A dozen pickaninnies could not have licked off the honeyed expression
- my face assumed at Magnus' promise to transmit my greetings to Maria.
- All the way back to my hotel I smiled idiotically at the coachman's
- back and afterwards bestowed a kiss on Toppi's brow--the canaile still
- maintains an odor of fur, like a young devil.
- "I see there was profit in your visit," said Toppi significantly. "How
- is Magnus'...daughter? You understand?"
- "Splendid, Toppi, splendid! She said that my beauty and wisdom
- reminded her of Solomon's!"
- Toppi smiled condescendingly at my unsuccessful jest. The honeyed
- expression left my face and rust and vinegar took the place of the
- sugar. I locked myself in my room and for a long time continued to
- curse Satan for falling in love with a woman.
- You consider yourself original, my earthly friend, when you fall in
- love with a woman and begin to quiver all over with the fever of love.
- And I do not. I can see the legions of couples, from Adam and Eve on;
- I can see their kisses and caresses; I can hear the words so cursedly
- monotonous, and I begin to detest my own lips daring to mumble the
- mumbling of others, my eyes, simulating the gaze of others, my heart,
- surrendering obediently to the click of the lock of a house of shame.
- I can see all these excited animals in their groaning and their
- caresses and I cry with revulsion at my own mass of bones and flesh
- and nerves! Take care, Satan in human form, Deceit is coming over You!
- Won't you take Maria for yourself, my earthly friend? Take her. She is
- yours, not mine. Ah, if Maria were my slave, I would put a rope around
- her neck and would take her, naked, to the market place: Who will buy?
- Who will pay the most for this unearthly beauty? Ah, do not hurt the
- poor blind merchant: open wide your purses, jingle louder your gold,
- generous gentlemen!...
- What, she will not go? Fear not, Signor, she will come and she will
- love you.... This is simply her maidenly modesty, Sir! Shall I tie the
- other end of the rope about her and lead her to your bed, kind sir?
- Take the rope along with you. I charge nothing for that. Only rid me
- of this heavenly beauty! She has the face of the radiant Madonna. She
- is the daughter of the honorable Thomas Magnus and both of them are
- thieves: he stole his white hands and she--her pristine face! Ah....
- But I am beginning to play with you, dear reader? That is a mistake:
- I have simply taken the wrong note book. No, it is not a mistake. It
- is worse. I play because my loneliness is very great, very deep--I
- fear it has no bottom at all! I stand on the edge of an abyss and hurl
- words, many heavy words, into it, but they fall without a sound. I
- hurl into it laughter, threats and moans. I spit into it. I fling into
- it heaps of stones and rocks. I throw mountains into it--and still it
- remains silent and empty. No, really, there is no bottom to this abyss
- and we toil in vain, you and I, my friend!
- ...But I see your smile and your cunning laugh: you _understand_ why
- I spoke so sourly of loneliness.... Ah, 'tis love! And you want to ask
- whether I have a mistress?
- Yes: there are two. One is a Russian countess. The other, an Italian
- countess. They differ only in the kind of perfume they use. But this
- is such an immaterial matter that I love them both equally.
- You probably wish to ask also whether I shall ever visit Magnus again?
- Yes, I shall go to Magnus. I love him very much. It matters little
- that his name is false and that his daughter has the audacity to
- resemble the Madonna. I haven't enough of Wondergood in me to be
- particular about a name--and I am too _human_ not to forgive the
- efforts of others to appear _divine_.
- I swear by eternal salvation that the one is worthy of the other!
- February 21, 1914.
- Rome, Villa Orsini.
- Cardinal X., the closest friend and confidante of the Pope, has paid
- me a visit. He was accompanied by two abbés. In general, he is a
- personage whose attentions to me have brought me no small measure of
- prestige.
- I met His Eminence in the reception hall of my new palace. Toppi was
- dancing all about the priests, snatching their blessings quicker than
- a lover does the kisses of his mistress. Six devout hands hardly
- managed to handle one Devil, grown pious, and before we had reached
- the threshold of my study, he actually contrived to touch the belly of
- the Cardinal. What ecstasy!
- Cardinal X. speaks all the European languages and, out of respect
- for the Stars and Stripes and my billions, he spoke English. He
- began the conversation by congratulating me upon the acquisition of
- the Villa Orsini and told me its history in detail for the past 200
- years. This was quite unexpected, very long, at times confusing and
- unintelligible, so that I was compelled, like a real American ass,
- to blink constantly...but this gave me an opportunity to study my
- distinguished and eminent visitor.
- He is not at all old. He is broad shouldered, well built and in good
- health. He has a large, almost square face, an olive skin, with a
- bluish tinge upon his shaven cheeks, and his thin, but beautiful hands
- reveal his Spanish blood. Before he dedicated himself to God, Cardinal
- X. was a Spanish grandee and duke. But his dark eyes are too small and
- too deeply set beneath his thick eyebrows and the distance between the
- short nose and the thin lips is too long.... All this reminds me of
- some one. But of whom? And what is this curious habit I have of being
- reminded of some one? Probably a saint?
- For a moment the cardinal was lost in thought and suddenly I recalled:
- Yes, this is simply a shaven _monkey_! This must be its sad, boundless
- pensiveness, _its_ evil gleam within the narrow pupil!
- But in a moment the Cardinal laughed, jested and gesticulated like a
- Neapolitan lazzarone--he was no longer telling me the history of the
- palace. He was playing, he was interpreting it in facial expression
- and dramatic monologue! He has short fingers, not at all like those
- of a monkey, and when he gesticulates he rather resembles a penguin
- while his voice reminds me of a talking parrot--Who are you, anyhow?
- No, a monkey! He is laughing again and I observe that he really does
- not know how to laugh. It is as if he had learned the human art of
- laughter but yesterday. He likes it but experiences considerable
- difficulty in extracting it from his throat. The sounds seem to choke
- him. It is impossible not to echo this strange contagious laughter.
- But it seems to break one's jaws and teeth and to petrify the muscles.
- It was really remarkable. I was fascinated when Cardinal X. suddenly
- cut short his lecture on the Villa Orsini by a fit of groaning
- laughter which left him calm and silent. His thin fingers played with
- his rosary, he remained quiet and gazed at me with a mien of deepest
- reverence and gentle love: something akin to tears glistened in his
- dark eyes. I had made an impression upon him. He loved me!
- What was I to do? I gazed into his square, ape-like face. Kindliness
- turned to love, love into passion, and still we maintained the
- silence...another moment and I would have stifled him in my embrace!
- "Well, here you are in Rome, Mr. Wondergood," sweetly sang the old
- monkey, without altering his loving gaze.
- "Here I am in Rome," I agreed obediently, continuing to gaze upon him
- with the same sinful passion.
- "And do you know, Mr. Wondergood, why I came here, i.e., in addition,
- of course, to the pleasure I anticipated in making your acquaintance?"
- I thought and with my gaze unchanged, replied:
- "For money, Your Eminence?"
- The Cardinal shook, as though flapping his wings, laughed, and slapped
- his knee--and again lost himself in loving contemplation of my nose.
- This dumb reverence, to which I replied with redoubled zest, began to
- wield a peculiar influence upon me. I purposely tell you all this in
- detail in order that you may understand my wish at that moment: to
- begin cavorting about, to sing like a cock, to tell my best Arkansas
- anecdote, or simply to invite His Eminence to remove his regalia and
- play a game of poker!
- "Your Eminence...."
- "I love Americans, Mr. Wondergood."
- "Your Eminence! In Arkansas they tell a story...."
- "Ah, I see, you want to get down to business? I understand your
- impatience. Money matters should never be postponed. Is that not so?"
- "It depends entirely upon one's concern in these matters, Your
- Eminence."
- The square face of the Cardinal grew serious, and in his eyes there
- gleamed for a moment a ray of loving reproach:
- "I hope you are not vexed at my long dissertation, Mr. Wondergood. I
- love so much the history of our great city that I could not forego the
- pleasure...the things you see before you are not Rome. There is no
- Rome, Mr. Wondergood. Once upon a time it was the Eternal City, but
- to-day it is simply a large city and the greater it grows the further
- it is from eternity. Where is that great Spirit which once illumined
- it?"
- I shall not narrate to you all the prattle of this purple parrot, his
- gently-cannibal look, his grimaces and his laughter. All that the old
- shaven monkey told me when it finally grew weary was:
- "Your misfortune is that you love your fellow beings too much...."
- "Love your neighbor...."
- "Well, let neighbors love each other. Go on teaching that but why
- do _you_ want to do it? When one loves too well one is blind to the
- shortcomings of the beloved and still worse: one elevates these faults
- to virtues. How can you reform people and make them happy without
- realizing their shortcomings or by ignoring their vices? When one
- loves, one pities and pity is the death of power. You see, I am quite
- frank with you, Mr. Wondergood, and I repeat: love is weakness.
- Love will get the money out of your pocket and will squander it...on
- rouge! Leave love to the lower classes. Let them love each other.
- Demand it of them, but you, you have risen to greater heights, gifted
- with such power!..."
- "But what can I do, Your Eminence? I am at a loss to understand it
- all. From my childhood on, especially in church, I have had it drummed
- into me that one must love his neighbor, and I believed it. And so...."
- The Cardinal grew pensive. Like laughter, pensiveness was becoming to
- him and rendered his square face immovable, filling it with dignity
- and lonely grief. Leaning forward with his lips compressed and
- supporting his chin upon his hand, he fixed his sharp, sleepy eyes
- upon me. There was much sorrow in them. He seemed to be waiting for
- the conclusion of my remark, and not having patience to do so, sighed
- and blinked.
- "Childhood, yes"...he mumbled, still blinking sorrowfully.
- "Children, yes. But you are no longer a child. Forget this lesson. You
- must acquire the heavenly gift of forgetfulness, you know."
- He gnashed his white teeth and significantly scratched his nose with
- his thin finger, continuing seriously:
- "But it's all the same, Mr. Wondergood. You, yourself cannot
- accomplish much.... Yes, yes! One must _know_ people to make them
- happy. Isn't that your noble aim? But the Church alone _knows_
- people. She has been a mother and teacher for thousands of years. Her
- _experience_ is the only one worth while, and, I may say, the only
- reliable one. As far as I know your career, Mr. Wondergood, you are
- an experienced cattle man. And you know, of course, what _experience_
- means even in the matter of handling such simple creatures as...."
- "As swine...."
- He was startled--and suddenly began to bark, to cough, to whine: he
- was laughing again.
- "Swine? that's fine, that's splendid, Mr. Wondergood, but do not
- forget that one finds the devil, too, in swine!"
- Ceasing his laughter he proceeded:
- "In teaching others, we learn ourselves. I do not contend that all the
- methods of education and training employed by the Church were equally
- successful. No, we often made mistakes, but every one of our mistakes
- served to improve our methods...we are approaching perfection, Mr.
- Wondergood, we are approaching perfection!"
- I hinted at the rapid growth of rationalism which, it seemed to me,
- threatened to destroy the "perfection" of the Church, but Cardinal X.
- again flapped his wings and almost screeched with laughter.
- "Rationalism! You are a most talented humorist, Mr. Wondergood! Tell
- me, was not the celebrated Mark Twain a countryman of yours? Yes,
- yes! Rationalism! Just think a moment. From what root is this word
- derived and what does it mean--_ratio_? _An nescis, mi filis quantilla
- sapientia rigitur orbis?_ Ah, my dear Wondergood! To speak of ratio on
- this earth is more out of place than it would be to speak of a rope in
- the home of a man who has just been hanged!"
- I watched the old monkey enjoying himself and I enjoyed myself too.
- I studied this mixture of a monkey, parrot, penguin, fox, wolf--and
- what not? And it was really funny: I love merry suicides. For a long
- time we continued our fun at the expense of _ratio_ until His Eminence
- calmed himself and assumed the tone of a teacher:
- "As anti-Semitism is the Socialism of fools...."
- "And are you familiar...?"
- "I told you we are approaching perfection!... So is rationalism the
- wisdom of fools. The wise man goes further. The ratio constitutes the
- holiday dress of a fool. It is the coat he dons in the presence of
- others, but he really lives, sleeps, works, loves and dies without
- any ratio at all. Do you fear death, Mr. Wondergood?"
- I did not feel like replying and remained silent.
- "You need not feel ashamed, Mr. Wondergood: one should fear death. As
- long as there is _death_...."
- The features of the monkey's face suddenly contracted and in his eyes
- there appeared horror and wrath: as if some one had seized him by the
- back of his neck and thrust him into the darkness and terror of a
- primeval forest. He _feared_ death and his terror was dark, evil and
- boundless. I needed no words of explanation and no other evidence:
- One look upon this distorted, befogged and confused _human_ face was
- sufficient to compel reverence for the Great Irrational! And how weak
- is _their_ steadiness: My Wondergood also grew pale and cringed...ah,
- the rogue! He was _now_ seeking protection and help from Me!
- "Will you have some wine, Your Eminence?"
- But His Eminence was himself again. He curved his thin lips into a
- smile and shook his head in the negative. And suddenly he broke out
- again with surprising fury:
- "And as long as there is death, the Church is unshakable! Let all
- of you who seek to undermine her, tear her, and blow her up--you
- cannot conquer her. And even if you should succeed in destroying
- her, the first to perish beneath her ruins would be yourselves. Who
- will then defend you against death? Who will give you sweet faith
- in immortality, in eternal life, in everlasting bliss?... Believe
- me, Mr. Wondergood, the world is not seeking your ratio. It is all a
- misunderstanding!"
- "But what does it seek, Your Eminence?"
- "What does it want? _Mundus vult decipi_...you know our Latin? the
- world wants to be fooled!"
- And the old monkey again grew merry, begun to wink, to beam with
- satisfaction, slapped his knee and burst into laughter. I also
- laughed. The rascal was so funny!
- "And is it you," said I, "who wants to fool it?"
- The Cardinal again grew serious and replied sadly:
- "The Holy See needs funds, Mr. Wondergood. The world, while it has
- not grown rational, has become weaker in its faith and it is somewhat
- difficult to manage it."
- He signed and continued:
- "You are not a Socialist, Mr. Wondergood? Ah, do not be ashamed. We
- are all Socialists now. We are all on the side of the hungry: the
- more satisfied they will be, the more they will fear _death_. You
- understand?"
- He flung out his arms and drew them in again, like a net filled with
- fish and said:
- "We are fishermen, Mr. Wondergood, humble fishermen!... And tell me:
- do you regard the desire for _liberty_ as a virtue or a vice?"
- "The entire civilized world regards the desire for liberty as a
- virtue," I replied angrily.
- "I expected no other reply from a citizen of the United States. But
- don't you personally believe that he who will give man limitless
- _freedom_ will also bring him _death_? _Death_ alone releases all
- earthly ties. And don't you regard the words 'freedom' and 'death' as
- synonymous?"
- "I speak of political liberty."
- "Of political liberty? Oh, we have no objection to that. You can have
- as much as you please of that! Of course, provided men themselves ask
- for it. Are you sure they really want it? If they do, please help
- yourself! It is all nonsense and calumny to say that the Holy See is
- in favor of reaction.... I had the honor to be present on the balcony
- of the Vatican when His Holiness blessed the first French aëroplane
- that appeared over Rome, and the next Pope, I am sure, will gladly
- bless the barricades. The time of Galileo has passed, Mr. Wondergood,
- and we all know now that the earth does move!"
- He drew a circle in the air with his finger, indicating the revolution
- of the earth.
- I said:
- "You must permit me to think over your proposal, Your Eminence."
- Cardinal X. jumped up from his chair and gently touched my shoulder
- with two of his aristocratic fingers:
- "Oh, I am not hurrying you, my good Mr. Wondergood. It was you who
- were hurrying me. I am even convinced that you will at first refuse
- me, but when, after some little experience, you will have realized the
- real _needs_ of man.... I, too, love man, Mr. Wondergood, to be sure,
- not so passionately and...."
- He departed with the same grimaces, bearing himself with dignity and
- dispensing blessings all about him. I saw him again through the window
- at the entrance of the palace, while the coachman was bringing up the
- carriage: he was speaking into the ear of one of his abbés, whose face
- resembled a black plate. The Cardinal's countenance no longer reminded
- me of a monkey: it was rather the face of a shaven, hungry, tired
- lion. This able actor needed no dressing room for his make-up! Behind
- him stood a tall lackey, all dressed in black, reminding one of an
- English baronet. Whenever His Eminence turned about in his direction,
- he would respectfully lift his faded silk hat.
- * * * * *
- Following the departure of His Eminence I was surrounded by a merry
- group of friends, with whom I had filled the spare rooms of my
- palace for the purpose of alleviating my loneliness and ennui. Toppi
- looked proud and happy: he was so satiated with blessings that he
- fairly bulged. The artists, decorators and others--whatever you call
- them--were greatly impressed by the Cardinal's visit, and spoke with
- much glee of the remarkable expression of his face and the grandeur of
- his manner! The Pope himself.... But when I remarked with the naïveté
- of a Redskin that he reminded me of a monkey, the shrewd canailes
- burst into loud laughter and one of them immediately sketched a
- portrait of Cardinal X.--in a cage. I am not a moralist to judge other
- people for their petty sins: they will get what is due them on their
- Judgment Day--and I was much pleased by the cleverness of the laughing
- beasts. They do not appear to have much faith in _love_ for one's
- _fellow beings_ and if I should rummage about among their drawings, I
- would probably find a pretty good sketch of the ass Wondergood. I like
- that. I find relief in communion with my little, pleasant sinners,
- from the babbling of the great and disagreeable saints...whose hands
- are covered with blood.
- Then Toppi asked me: "And how much does he want?"
- "He wants all!"
- Toppi said with determination:
- "Don't you give him all. He promised to make me a prelate, but, all
- the same, don't you give him all. One should save his money."
- Every day I have unpleasant experiences with Toppi: people are
- constantly foisting counterfeit coin on him. When they first gave him
- some, he was greatly perturbed and was impressed with what I said to
- him.
- "You really astonish me, Toppi," I said, "it is ridiculous for an old
- devil like you to accept counterfeit money from human beings, and
- allow yourself to be fooled. You ought to be ashamed of yourself,
- Toppi. I fear you will make a beggar of me."
- Now, however, Toppi, entangled in the mesh of the counterfeit and the
- genuine, seeks to preserve both the one and the other: he is quite
- clever in money matters and the Cardinal tried in vain to bribe him.
- Toppi--a prelate!...
- But the shaven monkey does really want my three billions. Apparently
- the belly of the Holy See is rumbling with hunger. I gazed long at
- the well executed caricature of the Cardinal and the longer I gazed,
- the less I liked it: no, there was something missing. The artist had
- sensed the ridiculous pretty well, but I do not see that fire of spite
- and malice which is in constant play beneath the gray ashes of terror.
- The bestial and the human is here, but it is not molded into that
- _extraordinary_ mask which, now that a long distance separates me from
- the Cardinal and I no longer hear his heavy laughter, is beginning to
- exercise a most disagreeable influence over me. Or is it because the
- extraordinary is inexpressible through pencil?
- In reality he is a cheap rascal, no better than a plain pickpocket,
- and told me nothing new: he is human enough and wise enough to
- cultivate that contemptuous laughter of his at the expense of the
- rational. But he revealed _himself_ to me and do not take offense
- at my American rudeness, dear reader: somewhere behind his broad
- shoulders, cringing with terror, there gleamed also your dear
- countenance. It was like a dream, you understand: it was as if some
- one were strangling you, and you, in stifled voice, cried to heaven:
- Murder! Police! Ah, you do not know that _third_, which is neither
- life nor death, and I know _who_ it was that was strangling you with
- his bony fingers!
- But do I know? Oh, laugh at him who is laughing at you, comrade. I
- fear your turn is coming to have some fun at my expense. Do I know? I
- came to you from the innermost depths, merry and serene, blessed in
- the consciousness of my Immortality.... And I am already hesitating. I
- am already trembling before this shaven monkey's face which dares to
- express its own low horror in such audaciously grand style: Ah, I have
- not even sold my Immortality: I have simply crushed it in my sleep, as
- does a foolish mother her newborn babe. It has simply faded beneath
- your sun and rains. It has become a transparent cloth without design,
- unfit to cover the nakedness of a respectable gentleman! This reeking
- Wondergood swamp in which I am submerged to my eyes, envelops me with
- mire, befogs my consciousness and stifles me with the unbearable
- odors of decay. When do you usually begin to decay, my friend: on
- the second, the third day or does it depend upon the climate? I am
- already in the process of decay, and I am nauseated by the odor of my
- entrails. Or are you so used to the work of the _worms_ that you take
- it for the elevation of thought and inspiration?
- My God, I forgot that I may have some fair readers, too! I most humbly
- beg your pardon, worthy folk, for this uncalled for discussion of
- odors. I am a most unpleasant conversationalist, milady, and as a
- perfumer I am worse...no, still worse: I am a disgusting mixture of
- Satan and an American bear, and I know not how to appreciate your good
- taste....
- No, I am still Satan! I still know that I am immortal and when my will
- shall command me I will strangle myself with my own bony fingers. But
- if I _should forget_?
- Then I shall distribute my wealth among the poor and with you, my
- friend, shall crawl up to the old shaven monkey. I shall cling with my
- American face to his soft slipper, emitting blessings. I shall weep.
- I shall rave with horror: "Save me from Death!" And the old monkey,
- brushing the hair from his face, reclining comfortably, gleaming with
- a holy light, illuminating all about it--and itself trembling with
- fear and horror--will hastily continue to fool the world, the world
- which so loves to be fooled!
- But I am jesting. I wish to be serious now. I like Cardinal X. and I
- shall permit him to begild himself with my gold. I am weary. I must
- sleep. My bed and Wondergood await me. I shall extinguish the light
- and in the darkness I shall listen for a moment to the clicking of
- the counting machine within my breast. And then will come the great
- pianist, a drunken genius, and begin drumming upon the black keys
- of my brain. He knows everything and has forgotten everything, this
- ingenious drunkard, and confuses the most inspiring landscapes with a
- swamp.
- That is--a dream.
- II
- February 22.
- Rome, Villa Orsini.
- Magnus was not at home. I was received by Maria.
- A glorious peace has suddenly descended upon me. In wondrous calm I
- breathe at this moment. Like a schooner, its sails lowered, I doze in
- the midday heat of the slumbering ocean. Not a stir. Not a ripple. I
- fear to move or to open wide my eyes, dazzled by the rays of the sun.
- I breathe silently, and I would not rouse the slightest wave upon the
- boundless smoothness of the sea. And quietly I lay down my pen.
- February 23.
- Villa Orsini.
- Thomas Magnus was not at home and, to my great surprise, I was
- received by Maria.
- I do not suppose you would be interested in how I greeted her and what
- I mumbled in the first few moments of our meeting. I can only say that
- I mumbled and that I felt a strong impulse to laugh. I could not lift
- my eyes to gaze upon Maria until my thoughts cast off their soiled
- garb and donned clean attire. As you see, I did not lose consciousness
- altogether! But in vain did I take these precautions: _that_ torture
- did not follow. Maria's gaze was clear and simple and it contained
- neither searching, penetrating fire nor fatal forgiveness. It was calm
- and clear, like the sky of the Campagna and--I do not know how it
- happened--it penetrated my entire being.
- She met me in the garden. We sat down by the gate, from which vantage
- point we had a good view of the Campagna. When you gaze at the
- Campagna you cannot prattle nonsense. No, it was she who gazed at the
- Campagna and I gazed into her eyes--clear to the seventh sky, where
- you end the count of your heavens. We were silent or--if you regard
- the following as conversation--we spoke:
- "Are those mountains?"
- "Yes, those are the mountains of Albania. And there--is Tivoli."
- She picked out little white houses in the distance and pointed them
- out to me and I felt a peculiar calm and joy in Maria's gaze. The
- suspicious resemblance of Maria to the Madonna no longer troubled
- me: how can I possibly be troubled by the fact that you resemble
- _yourself_? And came a moment when a great peace of mind descended
- upon _me_. I have no words of comparison whereby to reveal to you that
- great and bright calm.... I am forever conjuring up before me that
- accursed schooner with its lowered sails, on which I never really
- sailed, for I am afraid of seasickness! Or is it because on this night
- of my loneliness, my road is being illuminated by the _Star of the
- Seas_? Well, yes, I was a schooner, if you so desire it, and if this
- is not agreeable to you I was _All_. Besides I was _Nothing_. You see
- what nonsense emerges out of all this talk when Wondergood begins to
- seek words and comparisons.
- I was so calm that I even soon began to gaze into Maria's eyes:
- I simply _believed_ them. This is deeper than mere gazing. When
- necessary I shall find those eyes again. In the meantime I shall
- remain a schooner with sails lowered. I shall be _All_ and I shall be
- _Nothing_. Only once did a slight breeze stir my sails, but only for
- a moment: that was when Maria pointed out the Tiberian road to me,
- cutting the green hills like a white thread, and asked whether I had
- ever traversed it before.
- "Yes, occasionally, Signorina."
- "I often gaze upon this road and think that it must be extremely
- pleasant to traverse it by automobile."
- "Have you a swift car, Signor?"
- "Oh, yes, Signorina, very swift! But those," I continued in gentle
- reproach, "who are themselves limitless distances and endlessness are
- in no need of any movement."
- Maria and an automobile! A winged angel entering a trolley car for
- the sake of speed! A swallow riding on a turtle! An arrow on the
- humpy back of a hod carrier! Ah, all comparisons lie: why speak of
- swallows and arrows, why speak of any movement for Maria, who embraces
- all distances! But it is only now that I thought of the trolley and
- the turtle. At that time I felt so calm and peaceful, I was deep in
- such bliss that I could think of nothing except that countenance of
- eternity and undying light!
- A great calm came upon Me on that day and nothing could disturb my
- endless bliss. It was not long before Thomas Magnus returned, and a
- flying fish, gleaming for a moment above the ocean, could no more
- disturb its blue smoothness than did Magnus disturb me. I _received_
- him into my heart. I swallowed him calmly and felt no heavier burden
- in my stomach than a whale does after swallowing a herring. It was
- gratifying to find Magnus hospitable and merry. He pressed my hand
- and his eyes were bright and kind. Even his face seemed less pale and
- not as weary as usual.
- I was invited to breakfast...lest it worry you, let me say right
- now that I remained until late in the evening. When Maria had retired
- I told Magnus of the visit of Cardinal X. His merry face darkened
- slightly and in his eyes appeared his former hostile flame.
- "Cardinal X.? He _came_ to see you?"
- I narrated to him in detail my conversation with "the shaven monkey,"
- and remarked that he had impressed me as a scoundrel of no small
- caliber. Magnus frowned and said sternly:
- "You laugh in vain, Mr. Wondergood. I have long known Cardinal X.
- and...I have been keeping a close eye on him. He is evil, cruel
- and dangerous. Despite his ridiculous exterior, he is as cunning,
- merciless and revengeful as Satan!"
- And you, too, Magnus! Like Satan! This blue-faced, shaven
- orang-outang, this caressing gorilla, this monkey cavorting before a
- looking-glass! But I have exhausted my capacity for insult. Magnus'
- remark fell like a stone to the bottom of my bliss. I listened further:
- "His flirting with the Socialists, his jokes at the expense of Galileo
- are all lies. Just as the enemies of Cromwell hanged him after his
- death, so would Cardinal X. burn the bones of Galileo with immense
- satisfaction: to this day he regards the movement of the earth as a
- personal affront. It is an old school, Mr. Wondergood; he will stop at
- nothing to overcome obstacles, be it poison or murder, which he will
- take care to attribute to the misfortune of accident. You smile but
- I cannot discuss the Vatican smilingly, not so long as it contains
- such...and it will always produce some one like Cardinal X. Look
- out, Mr. Wondergood: You have landed within the sphere of his vision
- and interests, and, let me assure you, that scores of eyes are now
- watching you...perhaps me, too. Be on your guard, my friend!"
- Magnus was quite excited. Fervently I shook his hand:
- "Ah, Magnus!... But when will you agree to help me?"
- "But you know that I do not like human beings. It is _you_ who loves
- them Mr. Wondergood, not I."
- A gleam of irony appeared in his eyes.
- "The Cardinal says that it is not at all necessary to love people in
- order to be happy.... The contrary, he says!"
- "And who told you that I want to make people happy? Again, it is _you_
- who wants to do that, not I. Hand over your billions to Cardinal X.
- His recipe for happiness is not worse than other patent medicines. To
- be sure, his recipe has one disadvantage: while dispensing _happiness_
- it destroys _people_...but is that important? You are too much of a
- business man, Mr. Wondergood, and I see that you are not sufficiently
- familiar with the world of our inventors of the Best Means for the
- Happiness of Mankind: These means are more numerous than the so-called
- best tonics for the growth of hair. I myself was a dreamer at one
- time and invented one or two in my youth...but I was short on
- chemistry and badly singed my hair in an explosion. I am very glad I
- did not come across your billions in _those_ days. I am joking, Mr.
- Wondergood, but if you wish to be serious, here is my answer: keep on
- growing and multiplying your hogs, make four of your three billions,
- continue selling your conserves, provided they are not too rotten, and
- cease worrying about the happiness of Mankind. As long as the world
- likes good ham it will not deny you its love and admiration!"
- "And how about those who have no means to buy ham?"
- "What do you care about them? It is their belly--pardon me for the
- expression--that is rumbling with hunger, not yours. I congratulate
- you upon your new home: I know the Villa Orsini very well. It is a
- magnificent relic of Old Rome."
- I balked at the prospect of another lecture on my palace! Yes, Magnus
- had again shoved me aside. He did it brusquely and roughly. But his
- voice lacked sternness and he gazed at me softly and kindly. Well,
- what of it? To the devil with humanity, its happiness and its ham!
- I shall try later to bore an entrance into Magnus' brain. In the
- meantime leave me alone with my great peace and...Maria. Boundless
- peace and...Satan!--isn't that a splendid touch in my play? And what
- kind of a liar is he who can fool only others? To lie to oneself and
- believe it--that is an art!
- After breakfast all _three_ of us walked over the downy hills and
- slopes of the Campagna. It was still early Spring and only little
- white flowers gently brightened the young, green earth. A soft breeze
- diffused the scents of the season, while little houses gleamed in
- distant Albano. Maria walked in front of us, stopping now and then and
- casting her heavenly eyes upon everything they could envisage. When I
- return to Rome I shall order my brush-pusher to paint Madonna thus:
- On a carpet of soft green and little white flowers. Magnus was so
- frank and merry that I again drew his attention to Maria's resemblance
- to the Madonna and told him of the miserable brush-pushers in
- search of a model. He laughed, agreed with me in my opinion of the
- aforementioned resemblance, and grew wistful.
- "It is a _fatal_ resemblance, Mr. Wondergood. You remember that heavy
- moment when I spoke to you of _blood_? Already there is blood at the
- feet of Maria...the blood of one noble youth whose memory Maria and
- I cherish. There are fatal faces, there are fatal _resemblances_ which
- confuse our souls and lead to the abyss of self destruction. I am the
- father of Maria, and yet I myself hardly dare to touch her brow with
- my lips. What insurmountable barriers does love raise for itself when
- it dares to lift its eyes upon Maria?"
- This was the only moment of that happy day when my ocean became
- overcast with heavy clouds, as tangled as the beard of "Mad King
- Lear," while a wild wind shook the sails of my schooner. But I lifted
- my eyes to Maria, I met her gaze. It was bright and calm, like the
- sky above us--and the wild wind disappeared without trace, bearing
- away with it fragments of the darkness. I do not know whether you
- understand these sea comparisons, which I consider quite inadequate.
- Let me explain: I again grew quite calm. What is that noble Roman
- youth to me, who himself unable to find _comparisons_ was hurled over
- the head of his Pegasus? I am a white-winged schooner and beneath me
- is an entire ocean, and was it not written of Her: the _Incomparable_?
- The day was long and quiet and I was charmed with the precision with
- which the sun rolled down from its height to the rim of the earth,
- with the measured pace with which the stars covered the heavens, the
- large stars first, then the little ones, until the whole sky sparkled
- and gleamed. Slowly grew the darkness. Then came the rosy moon, at
- first somewhat rusty, then brilliant, and swam majestically over the
- road made free and warm by the sun. But more than anything else did
- I and Magnus feel charmed when we sat in the half-darkened room and
- heard Maria: she played the harp and sang.
- And listening to the strains of the harp I realized why man likes
- music produced by taut strings: I was myself a taut string and even
- when the finger no longer touched me, the sound continued to vibrate
- and died so slowly that I can still hear it in the depths of my soul.
- And suddenly I saw that the entire air was filled with taut and
- trembling strings: they extend from star to star, scatter themselves
- over the earth and penetrate my heart...like a network of telephone
- wires through a central station,--if you want more simple comparisons.
- And there was _something else_ I understood when I heard _Maria's_
- voice....
- No, you are simply an animal, Wondergood! When I recall your loud
- complaints against love and its songs, cursed with the curse of
- monotony--is that not your own expression?--I feel like sending you
- off to a barn. You are a dull and dirty animal and I am ashamed that
- for a whole hour I listened to your silly bellowing. You may hold
- words in contempt, you may curse your embraces, but do not touch Love,
- my friend: only through love has it been given to you to obtain a
- glimpse into Eternity! Away, my friend! Leave Satan to himself, he
- who in the very blackest depths of man has suddenly come upon new and
- unexpected flames. Away! You must not see the _joy_ and _astonishment_
- of Satan!
- The hour was late. The moon indicated midnight when I left Magnus
- and ordered the chauffeur to drive by way of the Numentinian road: I
- feared lest this great calm might slip away from me, and I wanted to
- overtake it in the depths of the Campagna. But the speed of the car
- broke the silence and I left my machine. It went to sleep at once
- beneath the light of the moon over its own shadow and looked like
- a huge, gray stone barring the road. For the last time its lights
- gleamed upon Me and it became transformed into something invisible. I
- was left alone with my shadow.
- We walked along the white road, I and my shadow, stopping occasionally
- and then again resuming our march. I sat down on a stone along the
- road and the black shadow hid behind my back. And here a great quiet
- descended upon the earth, upon the world. Upon my chilled brow I felt
- the cool touch of the moon's kiss.
- March 2.
- Rome, Villa Orsini.
- I pass my days in deep solitude. My earthly existence is beginning
- to trouble me. With every hour I seem to _forget_ what I have left
- behind the wall of _human_ things. My _eyesight_ is weakening. I can
- hardly see behind that wall. The shadows behind it scarcely move
- and I can no longer distinguish their outline. With every second my
- sense of _hearing_ grows duller. I hear the quiet squeak of a mouse,
- fussing beneath the floor but I am deaf to the thunders rolling above
- my head. The silence of delusion envelops me and I desperately strain
- my ears to catch the voices of frankness. I left them behind that
- impenetrable wall. With each moment _Truth_ flees from Me. In vain
- my words try to overtake it: they merely shoot by. In vain I seek to
- surround it in the tight embraces of my thoughts and rivet it with
- chains: the prison disappears like air and my embraces envelop nothing
- but emptiness. Only yesterday it seemed to me that I had caught my
- prey. I imprisoned it and fastened it to the wall with a heavy chain,
- but when I came to view it in the morning--I found nothing but a
- shackled skeleton. The rusty chains dangled loosely from its neck
- while the skull was nodding to me in brazen laughter.
- You see, I am again seeking comparisons, only to have the _Truth_
- escape me! But what can I do when I have left all my weapons at _home_
- and must resort to your poor arsenal? Let God himself don this human
- form and He will immediately begin to speak to you in exquisite French
- or Yiddish and He will be unable to say _more_ than it is possible
- to say in exquisite French or Yiddish. God! And I am only Satan, a
- modest, careless, human Devil!
- Of course, it was careless of me. But when I looked upon _your
- human_ life from _beyond_...no, wait: You and I have just been
- caught in a lie, old man! When I said from _Beyond_ you understood
- at once it must have been very far away. Yes? You may have already
- determined, perhaps, the approximate number of miles. Have you not
- at your disposal a limitless number of zeros? Ah, it is not true.
- My "_Beyond_" is as close as your "_Here_," and is no further away
- than _this_ very spot. You see what nonsense, what a lie you and I
- are pirouetting about! Cast away your meter and your scales and only
- listen as if behind your back there were no ticking of a clock and in
- your breast there were no counting machine. And so: when I looked upon
- your life from _Beyond_ it appeared to Me a great and merry game of
- immortal fragments.
- Do you know what a puppets' show is? When one doll breaks, its place
- is taken by another, but the play goes on. The music is not silenced,
- the auditors continue to applaud and it is all very interesting. Does
- the spectator concern himself about the fate of the fragments, thrust
- upon the scrap heap? He simply looks on in enjoyment. So it was with
- me, too. I heard the beat of the drums, and watched the antics of the
- clowns. And I so love immortal play that I felt like becoming an actor
- myself. Ah, I did not know then that it is not a _play_ at all. And
- that the scrap heap was terrible when one becomes a puppet himself
- and that the broken fragments reeked with blood. You deceived me, my
- friend!
- But you are astonished. You knit your brow in contempt and ask: Who
- is this Satan who does not _know_ such _simple_ things? You are
- accustomed to respect the Devil. You listen to the commonest dog as
- if he were speaking ex cathedra. You have surrendered to me your
- last dollar as if I were a professor of white and black magic and
- suddenly I reveal myself an ignoramus in the most elementary matters!
- I understand your disappointment. I myself have grown to respect
- mediums and cards. I am ashamed to confess that I cannot perform a
- single trick or kill a bedbug by simply casting my eye upon it, but
- even with my finger. But what matters most to me is truth: Yes, I did
- not know your _simplest_ things! Apparently the blame for this is for
- that _divide_ which separates us. Just as you do not know _my_ real
- Name and cannot pronounce a simple thing like that, so I did not know
- _yours_, my earthly shadow, and only now, in great ecstasy do I begin
- to grasp the wealth that is in you. Think of it: such a simple matter
- as counting I had to learn from Wondergood. I would not even be able
- to button my attire if it were not for the experienced and dexterous
- fingers of that fine chap Wondergood!
- Now I am human, like you. The limited sensation of my being I regard
- as my _knowledge_ and with respect I now touch my own nose, when
- necessity arises: it is not merely a nose--it is an axiom! I am now
- myself a struggling doll in a theater of marionettes. My porcelain
- head moves to the right and to the left. My hands move up and down. I
- am merry, I am gay. I am at play. I know everything...except: whose
- hand it is that pulls the string behind Me. And in the distance I can
- see the scrap heap from which protrude two little feet clad in ball
- slippers....
- No, this is not the _play_ of the _Immortal_ that I sought. It no
- more resembles merriment than do the convulsions of an epileptic
- a good negro dance! Here any one is what he is and here every one
- seeks not to be what he is. And it is this endless process of fraud
- that I mistook for a merry theater: what a mistake, how silly it was
- of "almighty, immortal"...Satan! Here every one is dragging every
- one else to court: the living are dragging the dead, the dead--the
- living. The history of the former is the history of the latter. And
- God, too, is History! And this endless nonsense, this dirty stream of
- false witnesses, of perjurers, of false judges and false scoundrels I
- mistook for the _play_ of immortals! Or have I landed in the _wrong_
- place? Tell Me, stranger: whither does _this_ road lead? You are pale.
- Your trembling finger points in the direction of...ah, the scrap
- heap!
- Yesterday, I questioned Toppi about his former life, the first time he
- donned the human form: I wanted to know how a doll feels when its head
- is cracking and the thread which moves it is severed. We lit our pipes
- and with steins of beer before us, like two good Germans, we ventured
- into the realm of philosophy. It developed, however, that this
- numbskull has _forgotten_ everything and my questions only confused
- him.
- "Is it possible that you have really forgotten everything, Toppi!"
- "Wait till you die and you will learn all about it yourself. I do not
- like to think of it. What good is it?"
- "Then it is not good?"
- "And have you ever heard of any one praising it?"
- "Quite true. No one has yet showered praises upon it."
- "And no one will, I know!"
- We sat silent.
- "And do you remember, Toppi, whence you have come?"
- "From Illinois,--the same place you come from."
- "No, I am speaking of _something else_. Do you remember whence you
- came? Do you recollect your real Name?"
- Toppi looked at me strangely, paled slightly and proceeded to clean
- his pipe. Then he arose and without lifting his eyes, said:
- "I beg you not to speak to me _thus_, Mr. Wondergood. I am an
- honest citizen of the United States and I do not understand your
- insinuations."
- But he remembers. Not in vain did he grow pale. He is seeking to
- forget and will forget soon enough! This double play of earth and
- heaven is too much for him and he has surrendered entirely to the
- earth! There will come a time when he will take me off to an insane
- asylum or betray me to Cardinal X. if I dare to speak to him of Satan.
- "I respect you, Toppi. You are quite a man," I said and kissed his
- brow: I always kiss the brow of people I love.
- Again I departed for the green Campagna desert: I follow the best
- models: when I am ill at ease I go into the desert. There I called
- for Satan and cursed his name but he would not answer me. I lay there
- long in the dust, pleading, when from somewhere in the depths of the
- desert I heard the muffled tread of feet, and a bright light helped
- Me to arise. And again I saw the Eden I had left behind, its green
- tents and unfading sunrise, its quiet lights upon the placid waters.
- And again I _heard_ the silent murmurs of lips born of Immaculate
- Conception while toward my eyes I saw approaching Truth. And I
- stretched out my hands to Her and pleaded: Give me back my liberty!--
- "_Maria!_"
- Who called: Maria? Satan again departed, the lights upon the placid
- waters were extinguished and Truth, frightened, disappeared--and again
- I sit upon the earth wearing my human form and gazing dully upon the
- painted world. And on my knees rested my shackled hands.
- "Maria!"
- ...It is painful for me to admit that all this is really an
- invention: the coming of Satan with his "light and ringing step," the
- gardens of Eden and my shackled hands. But I needed your attention
- and I could not get it without these gardens of Eden and these
- chains, the two extremes of your life. The gardens of Eden--how
- beautiful! Chains--how terrible! Moreover, all this talk is much more
- entertaining than merely squatting on a hill, cigar in one's _free_
- hand, thinking lazily and yawning while awaiting the arrival of the
- chauffeur. And as far as _Maria_ is concerned, I brought her into
- the situation because from afar I could see the black cypress trees
- above the Magnus home. An involuntary association of ideas...you
- understand.
- Can a man with such sight really see Satan? Can a person of such dull
- _ear_ hear the so-called "murmurs" born of Immaculate Conception?
- Nonsense! And, please, I beg of you, call Me just Wondergood. Call me
- just Wondergood until the day when I crack my skull open with that
- plaything which opens the _most narrow_ door into _limitless_ space.
- Call me just Henry Wondergood, of Illinois: you will find that I will
- respond promptly and obligingly.
- But if, some day, you should find my head crushed, examine carefully
- its _fragments_: there, in red ink will be engraved the proud name of
- Satan! Bend thy head, in reverence and bow to him--but do not do me
- the honor of accompanying my fragments to the scrap heap: one should
- never bow so respectfully to chains cast off!
- March 9, 1914.
- Rome, Villa Orsini.
- Last night I had an important conversation with Thomas Magnus. When
- Maria had retired I began as usual to prepare to return home but
- Magnus detained me.
- "Why go, Mr. Wondergood? Stay here for the night. Stay here and
- listen to the barking of Mars!"
- For several days dense clouds had been gathering over Rome and a heavy
- rain had been beating down upon its walls and ruins. This morning I
- read in a newspaper a very portentous weather bulletin: _cielo nuvolo
- il vento forte e mare molto agitato._ Toward evening the threat turned
- into a storm and the enraged sea hurled across a range of ninety
- miles its moist odors upon the walls of Rome. And the real Roman sea,
- the billowy Campagna, sang forth with all the voices of the tempest,
- like the ocean, and at moments it seemed that its immovable hills,
- its ancient waves, long evaporated by the sun, had once more come to
- life and moved forward upon the city walls. Mad Mars, this creator
- of terror and tempest, flew like an arrow across its wide spaces,
- crushed the head of every blade of grass to the ground, sighed and
- panted and hurled heavy gusts of wind into the whining cypress trees.
- Occasionally he would seize and hurl the nearest objects he could
- lay his hands upon: the brick roofs of the houses shook beneath his
- blows and their stone walls roared as if inside the very stones the
- imprisoned wind was gasping and seeking an escape.
- We listened to the storm all evening. Maria was calm but Magnus was
- visibly nervous, constantly rubbed his white hands and listened
- intently to the antics of the wind: to its murderous whistle, its
- roar and its signs, its laughter and its groans...the wild-haired
- artist was cunning enough to be slayer and victim, to strangle and to
- plead for mercy at one and the same time! If Magnus had the moving
- ears of an animal, they would have remained immovable. His thin nose
- trembled, his dim eyes grew dark, as if they reflected the shadows of
- the clouds, his thin lips were twisted into a quick and strange smile.
- I, too, was quite excited: it was the first time since I became human
- I had heard such a storm and it raised in me a white terror: almost
- with the horror of a child I avoided the windows, beyond which lay
- the night. Why does it not come here, I thought: can the window pane
- possibly keep it out if it should wish to break through?...
- Some one knocked at the iron gates several times, the gates at which I
- and Toppi once knocked for admission.
- "That is my chauffeur, who has come to fetch me," said I: "we must
- admit him."
- Magnus glanced at me from the corner of his eye and remarked sadly:
- "There is no road on that side of the house. There is nothing but
- field there. That is mad Mars who is begging for admittance."
- And as if he had actually heard his words, Mars broke out into
- laughter and disappeared whistling. But the knocking was soon resumed.
- It seemed as if some one were tearing off the iron gates and several
- voices, shouting and interrupting each other, were anxiously speaking;
- an infant was heard weeping.
- "Those must be people who have lost their way...you hear--an infant!
- We must open the gates."
- "Well, we'll see," said Magnus angrily.
- "I will go with you, Magnus."
- "Sit still, Wondergood. This friend of mine, here, is quite
- enough...." He quickly drew _that_ revolver from the table drawer and
- with a peculiar expression of love and even gentleness he grasped it
- in his broad hand and carefully hid it in his pocket. He walked out
- and we could hear the cry that met him at the gate.
- On that evening I somehow avoided Maria's eyes and I felt quite ill at
- ease when we were left alone. And suddenly I felt like sinking to the
- floor, and kneeling before her so that her dress might touch my face:
- I felt as if I had hair on my back, that sparks would at any moment
- begin to fly if some one were to touch it and that this would relieve
- me. Thus, in my mind, I moved closer and closer to Her, when Magnus
- returned and silently put the revolver back into the drawer. The
- voices at the door had ceased and the knocking, too.
- "Who was that?"...asked Maria.
- Magnus angrily shook off the drops of rain upon his coat.
- "Crazy Mars. Who else did you expect?"
- "But I thought I heard you speak to him?" I jested, trying to conceal
- the shiver produced by the cold brought in by Magnus.
- "Yes, I told him it was not polite--to drag about with him such
- suspicious company. He excused himself and said he would come no
- more," Magnus laughed and added: "I am convinced that all the
- murderers of Rome and the Campagna are to-night threatening to
- ambush people and hugging their stilettos as if they were their
- sweethearts...."
- Again came a muffled and timid knock.
- "Again!" cried Magnus, angrily, as if Mad Mars had really promised to
- knock no more. But the knock was followed by the ring of a bell: it
- was my chauffeur. Maria retired, while I, as I have already said, had
- been invited by Magnus to remain overnight, to which I agreed, after
- some hesitation: I was not at all taken by Magnus and his revolver,
- and still less was I attracted by the silly darkness.
- The kind host himself went out to dismiss the chauffeur. Through the
- window I could see the bright lights of the lanterns of the machine
- and for a moment I yearned to return home to my pleasant sinners,
- who were probably imbibing their wine at that moment in expectation
- of my return.... Ah, I have long since abandoned philanthropy and am
- now leading the life of a drunkard and a gambler. And again, as on
- that first night, the quiet little white house, this _soul_ of Maria,
- looked terrible and suspicious: this revolver, these stains of _blood_
- upon the white hands...and, maybe there are more stains like these
- here.
- But it was too late to change my mind. The machine had gone and
- Magnus, by the light, had not a _blue_, but a very black and beautiful
- beard and his eyes were smiling pleasantly. In his broad hand he
- carried not a weapon, but two bottles of wine, and from afar he
- shouted merrily:
- "On a night like this there is but one thing to do, to drink wine.
- Even Mars, when I spoke to him, looked drunk to me...the rogue! Your
- glass, Mr. Wondergood!"
- But when the glasses had been filled, this merry drunkard hardly
- touched the wine and sitting deep in his chair asked me to drink and
- to talk. Without particular enthusiasm, listening to the noise of
- the wind and thinking about the length of the night before us, I told
- Magnus of the new and insistent visits of Cardinal X. It seemed to me
- that the Cardinal had actually put spies on my trail and what is more
- strange: he has managed to gain quite an influence over the unbribable
- Toppi. Toppi is still the same devoted friend of mine but he seems
- to have grown sad, goes to confessional every day and is trying to
- persuade me to accept Catholicism.
- Magnus listened calmly to my story and with still greater reluctance
- I told him of the many unsuccessful efforts to open my purse: of
- the endless petitions, badly written, in which the truth appears
- to be falsehood because of the boresome monotony of tears, bows
- and naïve flattery; of crazy inventors, of all sorts of people
- with hasty projects, gentlemen who seek to utilize as quickly as
- possible their temporary absence from jail--of all this hungry mass
- of humanity aroused by the smell of _weakly_ protected billions. My
- secretaries--there are six of them now--hardly manage to handle all
- this mess of tears on paper, and the madly babbling fools who fill the
- doors of my palace.
- "I fear that I will have to build me an underground exit: they are
- watching me even at nights. They are aiming at me with picks and
- shovels, as if they were in the Klondike. The nonsense published
- by these accursed newspapers about the billions I am ready to give
- away to every fool displaying a wound in his leg, or an empty pocket,
- has driven them out of their senses. I believe that some night they
- will divide me into portions and eat me. They are organizing regular
- pilgrimages to my palace and come with huge bags. My ladies, who
- regard me as their property, have found for me a little Dante Inferno,
- where we take daily walks in company with the society that storms my
- place. Yesterday we examined an old witch whose entire worth consists
- in the fact that she has outlived her husband, her children and her
- grandchildren, and is now in need of snuff. And some angry old man
- refused to be consoled and even would not take any money until all
- of us had smelled the old putrid wound in his foot. It was indeed a
- horrible odor. This cross old fellow is the pride of my ladies, and
- like all favorites, he is capricious, and temperamental. And...are you
- tired of listening to me, Magnus. I could tell you of a whole flock of
- ragged fathers, hungry children, green and rotten like certain kinds
- of cheese, of noble geniuses who despise me like a negro, of clever
- drunkards with merry, red noses.... My ladies are not very keen on
- drunkards, but I love them better than any other kind of goods. And
- how do you feel about it, Signor Magnus?"
- Magnus was silent. I too was tired of talking. Mad Mars alone
- continued his antics: he was now ensconced upon the roof, trying to
- bite a hole in the center, and crushing the tiles as he would a lump
- of sugar. Magnus broke the silence:
- "The newspapers seem to have little to say about you recently. What is
- the matter?"
- "I pay the interviewers not to write anything. At first I drove
- them away but they began interviewing my horses and now I pay them
- for their silence by the line. Have you a customer for my villa,
- Magnus? I shall sell it together with the artists and the rest of its
- paraphernalia."
- We again grew silent and paced up and down the room: Magnus rose first
- and then sat down. I followed and sat down too. In addition, I drank
- two more glasses of wine while Magnus drank none.... His nose is never
- red. Suddenly he said with determination:
- "Do not drink any more wine, Wondergood."
- "Oh, very well. I want no more wine. Is that all?"
- Magnus continued to question me at long intervals. His voice was sharp
- and stern, while mine was...melodious, I would say.
- "There has been a great change in you, Wondergood."
- "Quite possible, thank you, Magnus."
- "There used to be more life in you. Now you rarely jest. You have
- become very morose, Wondergood."
- "Oh!"
- "You have even grown thin and your brow is sallow. Is it true that you
- get drunk every night in the company of your...friends?"
- "It seems so."
- "...that you play cards, squander your gold, and that recently some
- one had been nearly murdered at your table?"
- "I fear that is true. I recollect that one gentleman actually tried to
- pierce another gentleman with his fork. And how do you know all about
- that?"
- He replied sternly and significantly:
- "Toppi was here yesterday. He wanted to see...Maria but I myself
- received him. With all due respect to you, Wondergood, I must say that
- your secretary is unusually stupid."
- I acquiesced coldly.
- "You are quite right. You should have driven him out."
- I must say for my part, that my last two glasses of wine evaporated
- from me at the mention of _Maria's_ name, and our attempted
- conversation was marked by continued evaporation of the wine I
- drank, like perfume out of a bottle. I have always regarded wine as
- unreliable matter. We found ourselves again listening to the storm and
- I remarked:
- "The wind seems to be growing more violent, Signor Magnus."
- "Yes, the wind seems to be growing more violent, Mr. Wondergood. But
- you must admit that I warned you beforehand, Mr. Wondergood."
- "Of what did you warn me beforehand, Signor Magnus?"
- He seized his knees with his white hands and directed upon me the gaze
- of a snake charmer.... Ah, he did not know that I myself had extracted
- my poisoned teeth and was quite harmless, like a mummy in a museum!
- Finally, he realized that there was no use beating about the bush, and
- came straight to the point:
- "I warned you in regard to _Maria_," he said slowly, with peculiar
- insinuation. "You remember that I did not desire your acquaintance
- and expressed it plainly enough? You have not forgotten _what_ I
- told you about Maria, of her fatal influence upon the soul? But you
- were bold and insistent and I yielded. And now you ask us--me and my
- daughter--to view the highly exhilarating spectacle of a gentleman in
- the process of disintegration, one who asks nothing, who reproaches no
- one, but can find no solace until every one has smelled his wound....
- I do not want to repeat your expression, Mr. Wondergood. It has a bad
- odor. Yes, sir, you have spoken quite frankly of your...neighbors and
- I am sincerely glad you have finally abandoned this cheap play at love
- and humanity.... You have so many other pastimes! I confess, however,
- that I am not at all overjoyed at your intention of presenting to _us_
- the _sediment_ of a gentleman. It seems to me, sir, that you made a
- mistake in leaving America and your...canning business: dealing with
- people requires quite a different sort of ability."
- He laughed! He was almost driving Me out, this little man, and I, who
- write my "I" in a super-capital, I listened to him humbly and meekly.
- It was divinely ridiculous! Here is another detail for those who love
- the ridiculous: before his tirade began my eyes and the cigar between
- my teeth were quite bravely and nonchalantly directed toward the
- ceiling, but they changed their attitude before he had finished....
- To this very moment I feel the taste of that miserable dangling,
- extinguished cigar. I was choking with laughter...that is I did not
- yet know whether to choke with laughter or with wrath. Or, without
- choking at all, to ask him for an umbrella and leave. Ah, he was at
- _home_, he was on his _own_ ground, this angry, black bearded man. He
- knew how to manage himself in this situation and he sang a _solo_, not
- a _duet_, like the inseparable Satan of Eternity and Wondergood of
- Illinois!
- "Sir!" I said with dignity: "There seems to be a sad misunderstanding
- here. You see before you Satan in _human form_...you understand? He
- went out for an evening stroll and was lost in the forest...in the
- forest, sir, in the forest! Won't you be good enough, sir, to direct
- him to the nearest road to Eternity? Ah, Ah! Thank you. _So_ I thought
- myself. Farewell!"
- Of course, I really did not say that. I was _silent_ and gave the
- floor to Wondergood. And this is what that respectable gentleman said,
- dropping his wet, dead cigar:
- "The devil take it! You are quite right, Magnus. Thank you, old man.
- Yes, you warned me quite honestly, but I preferred to play a lone
- hand. Now I am a bankrupt and at your mercy. I shall have no objection
- if you should order the removal of the _sediment_ of the gentleman."
- I thought that without waiting for a stretcher, Magnus would simply
- throw the sediment out of the window, but his generosity proved quite
- surprising: he looked at Me with pity and even stretched out his hand.
- "You are suffering very much, Mr. Wondergood?"--a question quite
- difficult to answer for the celebrated _duet_! I blinked and shrugged
- my shoulders. This appeared to satisfy Magnus and for a few moments
- we were both silent. I do not know of what Magnus was thinking. I
- thought of nothing: I simply examined with great interest, the walls,
- the ceiling, books, pictures--all the furnishings of this human
- habitation. I was particularly absorbed in the electric light upon
- which I fixed my attention: why does _it_ burn and give light?
- "I am waiting for your answer, Mr. Wondergood."
- So he was really expecting me to reply? Very well.
- "It's very simple, Magnus...you warned me, I admit. To-morrow
- Toppi will pack my trunks and I shall go back to America to resume
- my...business."
- "And the Cardinal?"
- "What Cardinal? Ah, yes!... Cardinal X. and my billions. I remember.
- But--don't gaze at me in such astonishment, Magnus. I am sick of it."
- "What are you sick of, Mr. Wondergood?"
- "_It._ Six secretaries. Brainless old women, snuff, and my Dante
- Inferno, where they take me for my walks. Don't look at me so sternly,
- Magnus. Probably one could have made better wine out of my billions,
- but I managed to produce only sour beer. Why did you refuse to help
- me? Of course, you hate human beings, I forgot."
- "But you _love_ them?"
- "What shall I say, Magnus? No, I am rather indifferent to them. Don't
- look at me so...pityingly. By God, it isn't worth it! Yes, I am
- indifferent to them. There are, there were and there will be so many
- of them that it isn't really worth while...."
- "So I am to conclude that you _lied_?"
- "Look not at me but at my packed trunks. No, I did not lie, not
- entirely. You know, I wanted to do something interesting for the sake
- of amusement and so I let loose this...this emotion...."
- "So it was only _play_?..."
- I blinked again and shrugged my shoulders. I like this method of
- reply to complex questions. And _this_ face of Signor Thomas Magnus
- appealed to me, too; his long, oval face recompensed me slightly for
- my theatrical failures and...Maria. I must add that by this time
- there was a fresh cigar in my mouth.
- "You said that in your past there are some dark pages.... What's the
- trouble, Mr. Wondergood?"
- "Oh! it was a slight exaggeration. Nothing in particular, Magnus. I
- beg your pardon for disturbing you needlessly, but at that time I
- thought I should have spoken thus for the sake of style...."
- "Style?"
- "Yes, and the laws of contrast. The present is always brighter with a
- dark past as a background...you understand? But I have already told
- you, Magnus, that my prank had little result. In the place I come from
- they have quite a mistaken conception of the pleasures of the game
- here. I shall have to disabuse them when I get back. For a moment I
- was taken in by the old monkey, but its method of fleecing people is
- rather ancient and too certain...like a counting house. I prefer an
- element of risk."
- "Fleecing people?"
- "Don't we despise them, Magnus? And if the game has failed, let us not
- at least deny ourselves the pleasure of speaking frankly. I am very
- glad. But I am tired of this prattle and, with your permission, I will
- take another glass of wine."
- There was not even the resemblance of a smile on Thomas Magnus' face.
- I mention the smile for the sake of...style. We passed the next
- half hour in silence, broken only by the shrieks and yells of Mad
- Mars and the even pacing of Magnus. With his hands behind him and
- disregarding me entirely he paced the room with even step: eight
- steps forward, eight steps backward. Apparently he must have been in
- jail at one time and for quite a while: for he had the knack of the
- experienced prisoner of creating distances out of a few meters. I
- permitted myself to yawn slightly and thus drew the attention of my
- host back to myself. But Magnus kept quiet for another moment, until
- the _following words_ rang out through the air and well nigh hurled me
- out of my seat:
- "But _Maria_ loves you. Of course, you do not know that?"
- I arose.
- "Yes, that is the truth: Maria loves you. I did not expect this
- misfortune. I failed to kill you, Mr. Wondergood. I should have done
- that at the very beginning and now I do not know what to do with you.
- What do you think about it?"
- I stretched and...
- * * * * *
- ...Maria loves _Me_!
- I once witnessed in Philadelphia an unsuccessful electrocution of
- a prisoner. I saw at "La Scala" in Milan my colleague Mephisto
- _cringing_ and hopping all over the stage when the supers moved upon
- him with their crosses--and my silent reply to Magnus was an artistic
- improvisation of both the first and the second trick: ah, at that
- moment I could think of nothing better to imitate! I swear by eternal
- salvation that never before had I been permeated by so many deadly
- currents, never did I drink such bitter wine, never was my soul seized
- with such uncontrollable _laughter_!
- Now I no longer laugh or cringe, like a cheap actor. I am alone and
- only my own seriousness can hear and see Me. But in that moment of
- triumph I needed all my strength to control my laughter so that I
- might not deal ringing blows to the face of this stern and honest
- man hurling the Madonna into the embraces of...the Devil. Do you
- really think so? No? Or are you merely thinking of Wondergood, the
- American, with his goatee and wet cigar between his gold teeth! Hatred
- and contempt, love and anguish, wrath and laughter,--these filled
- to the brim the cup presented to Me...no, still worse, still more
- bitter, still more deadly! What do I care about the deceived Magnus or
- the stupidity of his eyes and brain? But how could the pure eyes of
- _Maria_ have been deceived?
- Or am I really such a clever Don Juan that I can turn the head of
- an innocent and trusting girl by a few simple, silent meetings?
- Madonna, where art Thou? Or, has she discovered a resemblance between
- myself and one of her saints, like Toppi's. But I do not carry with
- me a traveling prayer book! Madonna, where art Thou? Are thy lips
- stretching out to mine? Madonna, where art Thou? Or?...
- And yet I cringed like an actor. I sought to stifle in respectful
- mumbling my hatred and my contempt when this new "_or_" suddenly
- filled me with new confusion and such love...ah, such love!
- "_Or_," thought I, "has _Thy_ immortality, Madonna, echoed the
- immortality of Satan and is it now stretching forth this gentle hand
- to it from the realms of Eternity? Thou, who art _divine_, hast thou
- recognized a friend in him who has become _human_? Thou, who art
- _above_, dost thou pity him who is _below_? Oh, Madonna, lay thy hand
- upon my dark head that I may recognize thee by thy touch!..."
- But hear what further transpired that night.
- * * * * *
- "I know not why Maria has fallen in love with you. That is a secret of
- her soul, too much for my understanding. No, I do not know, but I bow
- to her will as to her frankness. What are my human eyes before her
- all-penetrating gaze, Mr. Wondergood!..."
- (The latter, too, was saying the same thing.)
- "A moment ago, in a fit of excitement," continued Magnus, "I said
- something about murder and death.... No, Mr. Wondergood, you may rest
- secure forever: the chosen one of Maria enjoys complete immunity as
- far as I am concerned. He is protected by more than the law--her pure
- love is his armor. Of course, I shall have to ask you to leave us at
- once. And I believe in your honest intention, Wondergood, to place the
- ocean between us...."
- "But...."
- Magnus moved forward towards me and shouted angrily:
- "Not another word!... I cannot kill you but if you dare to mention the
- word 'marriage,' I!..."
- He slowly dropped his uplifted hand, and continued calmly:
- "I see that I will have to beg your pardon again for my fit of
- passion, but it is better than _falsehood_, examples of which
- we have had from you. Do not defend yourself, Wondergood. It is
- quite unnecessary. And of marriage let _me_ speak: it will ring
- less insulting to Maria than it would from your lips. It is quite
- unthinkable. Remember that. I am a sober realist: I see nothing but
- mere coincidence in _that fatal_ resemblance of Maria and I am not at
- all taken aback by the thought that my daughter, with all her unusual
- qualities, may some day become a wife and mother.... My categorical
- opposition to this marriage was simply another means of warning you.
- Yes, I am accustomed to look soberly upon things, Mr. Wondergood. It
- is not you who is destined to be Maria's life partner! You do not know
- me at all and now I am compelled to raise slightly the curtain behind
- which I am hiding these many years: my idleness is merely rest. I am
- not at all a peaceful villager or a book philosopher. I am a man of
- struggle. I am a warrior on the battlefield of life! And my Maria will
- be the gift only of a hero, if--if I should ever find a hero."
- I said:
- "You may rest assured, Signor Magnus, that I will not permit myself to
- utter a single word in regard to Signorina Maria. You know that I am
- not a hero. But I should think it permissible to ask of you: how am I
- to reconcile your present remarks with your former _contempt_ for man?
- I recollect that you spoke seriously of gallows and prisons."
- Magnus laughed loudly:
- "And do you remember what you said about your _love_ for man? Ah,
- my dear Wondergood: I would be a bad warrior and politician if my
- education did not embrace the art of lying a little. We were both
- playing, that's all!"
- "You played better," I admitted quite gloomily.
- "And you played very badly, my friend,--do not be offended. But what
- am I to do when there suddenly appears before me a gentleman all
- loaded with gold like...."
- "Like an ass. Continue."
- "And begins to reveal to me his love for humanity, while his
- confidence in his success is equal only to the quantity of the dollars
- in his pocket? The main fault of your play, Mr. Wondergood, is that
- you are too eager for success and seek immediate results. This makes
- the spectator cold and less credulous. To be sure, I really did not
- think you were merely acting--the worst play is better than sincere
- assininity--and I must again crave your pardon: you seemed to me just
- one of those foolish Yankees who really take their own bombastic and
- contemptible tirades seriously and...you understand?"
- "Quite fully. I beg you to continue."
- "Only one phrase of yours,--something about war and revolution
- purchasable with your billions--seemed to me to possess a modicum
- of interest, but the rest of the drivel proved that that, too,
- was a mere slip of the tongue, an accidental excerpt of some one
- else's text. Your newspaper triumphs, your flippancy in serious
- matters--remember Cardinal X!--your cheap philanthropy are of a quite
- different tone.... No, Mr. Wondergood, you are not fit for serious
- drama! And your prattling to-day, despite its cynicism, made a better
- impression than your flamboyant circus pathos. I say frankly: were it
- not for _Maria_ I would gladly have had a good laugh at your expense,
- and, without the slightest compunction would have raised the farewell
- cup!"
- "Just one correction, Magnus: I earnestly desired that you should take
- part...."
- "In what? In your play? Yes, your play lacked the _creative factor_
- and you earnestly desired to saddle me with your poverty of spirit.
- Just as you hire your artists to paint and decorate your palaces so
- you wanted to hire my will and my imagination, my power and my love!"
- "But your hatred for man...."
- Up to this point Magnus had maintained his tone of irony and subtle
- ridicule: my remark, however, seemed to change him entirely. He grew
- pale, his white hands moved convulsively over his body as if they
- were searching for a weapon, and his face became threatening and even
- horrible. As if fearing the power of his own voice, he lowered it
- almost to a whisper; as if fearing that his words would break their
- leash and run off at a wild pace, he tried desperately to hold them in
- check and in order.
- "Hatred? Be silent, sir. Or have you no conscience at all or any
- common sense? My contempt! My hatred! They were my reply, not to
- your theatrical _love_, but to your sincere and dead indifference.
- You were insulting _me_ as a human being by your indifference: You
- were insulting life by your indifference. It was in your voice, it
- gleamed savagely out of your eyes, and more than once was I seized by
- terror...terror, sir!--when I pierced deeper the mysterious emptiness
- of your pupils. If your past has no dark pages, which, as you say, you
- merely added for the sake of style, then there is something worse than
- that in it: there are _white_ pages in it. And I cannot read them!..."
- "Oh, oh!"
- "When I look at your eternal cigar, and see your self-satisfied but
- handsome and energetic face; when I view your unassuming manner, in
- which the simplicity of the grog shop is elevated to the heights of
- Puritanism, I fully understand your naïve game. But I need only meet
- the pupil of your eye...or its _white_ rim and I am immediately
- hurled into a void, I am seized with alarm and I no longer see either
- your cigar or your gold teeth and I am ready to exclaim: who are you
- that you dare to bear yourself with such indifference?"
- The situation was becoming interesting. _Madonna_ loves Me and this
- creature is about ready to utter my Name at any moment! Is he the son
- of my Father? How could he unravel the great mystery of my boundless
- indifference: I tried so carefully to conceal it, even from you!
- "Here! here!" shouted Magnus, in great excitement, "again there are
- two little tears in your eyes, as I have noticed before. They are a
- _lie_, Wondergood! There is no source of tears behind them. They have
- fallen from somewhere above, from the clouds, like dew. Rather laugh:
- behind your laughter I see merely a bad man, but behind your tears
- there are _white_ pages, white pages!... or has Maria read them?"
- Without taking his eyes off me, as if fearing that I might run away,
- Magnus paced the room, finally seating himself opposite Me. His face
- grew dim and his voice seemed tired, when he said:
- "But it seems to me that I am exciting myself in vain...."
- "Do not forget, Magnus, that to-day I myself spoke to you of
- indifference."
- He waved his hand wearily and carelessly.
- "Yes, you did speak. But there is something else involved here,
- Wondergood. There is nothing insulting in the indifference, but in
- the other...I sensed it immediately upon your appearance with your
- billions. I do not know whether you will understand what I mean, but
- I immediately felt like shouting of hatred and to demand gallows and
- blood. The gallows is a gloomy thing but the curious jostling about
- the gallows, Mr. Wondergood, are quite unbearable! I do not know
- what they think of our game here in the 'place' you come from, but
- we pay for it with our lives, and when there suddenly appears before
- us some curious gentleman in a top hat, cigar in mouth, one feels,
- you understand, like seizing him by the back of his neck and...he
- never stays to the end of the performance, anyway. Have you, too, Mr.
- Wondergood, dropped in on us for a brief visit?"
- With what a long sigh I uttered the name of _Maria_!... And I no
- longer played, I no longer lied, when I replied to this gloomy man:
- "Yes, I have dropped in on you for a brief visit, Signor Magnus.
- You have guessed right. For certain very valid reasons I can reveal
- nothing to you of the _white_ pages of my life, the existence of
- which behind my leather binding you have likewise guessed. But on one
- of them was written: _death-departure_. That was not a top hat in
- the hands of the curious visitor, but a revolver...you understand: I
- look on as long as it is interesting and after that I make my bow and
- depart. Let me put it clearer and simpler, out of deference to your
- realism: in a few days, perhaps to-morrow, I depart for the other
- world.... No, that is not clear enough: in a few days or to-morrow I
- shall shoot myself, kill myself with a revolver. I at first planned
- to aim at my heart but have decided that the brain would be more
- reliable. I have planned all this long ago, at the very beginning...of
- my appearance before you, and was it not in this _readiness_ of mine
- to depart that you have detected 'inhuman' indifference? Isn't it true
- that when one eye is directed upon the _other_ world, it is hardly
- possible to maintain any particularly bright flame in the eye directed
- upon _this_ world?... I refer to the kind of flame I see in your eyes.
- O! you have wonderful eyes, Signor Magnus."
- Magnus remained silent for a few moments and then said:
- "And Maria?"
- "Permit me to reply. I prize Signorina Maria too highly not to regard
- her _love_ for me as a fatal mistake."
- "But you wanted that love?"
- "It is very difficult for me to answer that question. At first,
- perhaps--when I indulged in dreams for a while--but the more I
- perceived this fatal resemblance...."
- "That is mere resemblance," Magnus hastened to assure me: "But you
- mustn't be a child, Wondergood! Maria's soul is lofty and beautiful,
- but she is human, made of flesh and bone. She probably has her own
- little sins, too...."
- "And how about my top hat, Magnus? How about my _free_ departure?
- I need only buy a seat to gaze upon Maria and her fatal
- resemblance--admitting that it is only resemblance!--but how must I
- pay for _love_?"
- Magnus said sternly:
- "Only with your life."
- "You see: only with my life! How, then, did you expect me to desire
- such love?"
- "But you have miscalculated: she already loves you."
- "Oh, if the Signorina Maria really loves me then my _death_ can be no
- obstacle: however, I do not make myself clear. I wanted to say that my
- departure...no, I had better say nothing. In short, Signor Magnus:
- would you agree to have me place my billions at your disposal _now_?"
- He looked at me quickly:
- "Now?"
- "Yes, now, when we are no longer playing: I at love and you at hatred.
- Now, when I am about to disappear entirely, taking with me the
- 'sediment' of a gentlemen? Let me make it quite clear: would you like
- to be my heir?"
- Magnus frowned and looked at me in anger: apparently he took my words
- for ridicule. But I was calm and serious. It seemed to me that his
- large, white hands were trembling slightly. He turned away for a
- moment and then, whirling about quickly, he shouted loudly:
- "No! Again you want.... No!"
- He stamped his foot and cried once more: "No!" His hands were
- trembling. His breathing was heavy and irregular. There followed a
- long silence, the wailing of the tempest, the whistling and murmur
- of the wind. And again, great calm, great, dead, all embracing peace
- descended upon me. Everything was turned _within_ Me. I still could
- hear the earthly demons of the storm, but _their_ voices sounded far
- away and dull. I saw before me a _man_ and he was strange and cold to
- me, like a stone statue. One after another there floated by me all
- the days of my human existence. There was the gleam of faces, the
- weak sound of voices and curious laughter. And then, again all was
- silent. I turned my gaze to the other side--and there I was met by
- dumbness. It was as if I were immured between two dumb, stone walls:
- behind one was _their_ human life, which I had abandoned, and behind
- the other, in silence and in darkness, stretched forth the world of
- eternal and real being. Its silence was resounding, its darkness was
- gleaming, eternal, joyous life beat constantly like breakers, upon the
- hard rocks of the impenetrable wall. But deaf was my consciousness and
- silent my thought. From beneath the weak legs of Thought there came
- _Memory_--and it hung suspended in the void, immovable, paralyzed for
- the moment. _What_ did I leave behind the wall of my Unconsciousness?
- Thought made no reply. It was motionless, empty and silent. Two
- silences surrounded Me, two darknesses enveloped me. Two walls were
- burying me, and behind one, in the pale movement of shadows, passed
- their human life, while behind the other,--in silence and in darkness
- stretched forth the world of my real, eternal being. Whence shall I
- hear The Call? Whither can I take a step?
- And at that moment I suddenly heard the voice of a man, strange and
- distant. It grew closer and closer, there was a gentle ring in it. It
- was Magnus speaking. With great effort and concentration, I tried to
- catch the words and this was what I heard:
- "And wouldn't you rather continue living, Wondergood?"
- March 18.
- Rome, Palazzo Orsini.
- It is three days now that Magnus and Maria are living in my palazzo in
- Rome. It is empty and silent and really seems huge. Last night, worn
- by insomnia, I wandered about its halls and stairways, over rooms I
- had never seen before and their number astonished me. Maria's _soul_
- has expelled from it all that was frivolous and impure and only the
- saintly Toppi moves through its emptiness, like the pendulum of a
- church clock. Ah, how saintly he looks. If not for his broad back, the
- broad folds of his coat, and the odor of fur in his head, I myself
- would take him for one of the saints who have honored me with their
- acquaintance.
- I rarely see my guests. I am turning my entire estate into cash and
- Magnus and Toppi and all the secretaries are busy with this work from
- morning to night; our telegraph is constantly buzzing. Magnus has
- little to say to me. He only talks business. Maria...it seems as
- if I were avoiding her. I can see her through my window walking in
- the garden, and this is quite enough for me, for her _soul_ is here
- and every atom of the air is filled with her breath. And, as I have
- already remarked, I suffer with insomnia.
- As you see, my friend, I have remained among the _living_, a dead hand
- could not possibly write even the dead words I am not setting down.
- Let us forget the past, as sweethearts would who have just settled
- their differences. Let us be friends, you and I. Give me your hand, my
- friend! I vow by eternal salvation that never again will I chase you
- hence or laugh at you: if I have lost the wisdom of the snake I have
- acquired the gentleness of the dove. I am rather sorry that I have
- driven away my painters and my interviewers: I have no one to inquire
- whom I _resemble_ with my radiant countenance? I personally feel that
- I remind one of a powdered darkey, who is afraid to rub the powder off
- with his sleeve and thus reveal his black skin...ah, I still have a
- black skin!
- Yes, I have remained _alive_ but I know not yet how far I shall
- succeed in keeping up this state: have you any idea how hard are
- the transitions from a nomad to a settled life? I was a redskin, a
- carefree nomad, who folds up and casts off all that is human, as he
- would a tent. Now I am laying a granite foundation for an earthly
- home and I, having little faith, am cold and trembling. Will it be
- warm when the white snow covers my new home? What do you think, my
- friend, is the best heating system?
- I promised Thomas Magnus that night that I would not kill myself.
- We sealed this agreement with a warm handshake. We did not open our
- veins nor seal the pact with our blood. We simply said "yes" and that
- was quite sufficient: as you know only human beings break agreements.
- Devils always keep them.... You need only recall your horny, hairy
- heroes and their Spartan honesty. Fortunately (let us call it
- 'fortunate') we had set no...date. I swear by eternal salvation,
- I would be a poor king and ruler if, when building a palace, I did
- not leave for myself a secret exit, a little door, a modest loophole
- through which wise kings disappear when their foolish subjects rise
- and break into Versailles.
- I will not kill myself to-morrow. Perhaps I shall wait quite a while.
- I will not kill myself: of the two walls I have chosen the lower one
- and I am quite human now, even as you my friend. My earthly experiment
- is not very thrilling as yet, but who knows?--this human life may
- unexpectedly grow quite attractive! Has not Toppi lived to grow gray
- and to a peaceful end? Why should not I, traversing all the ages of
- man, like the seasons of the year, grow to be a gray old sage, a wise
- guide and teacher, the bearer of the covenant and arterio sclerosis?
- Ah, this ridiculous sclerosis, these ills of old age--it is only now
- that they begin to seem terrible to Me, but, can I not get used to
- them and even grow to love them? Every one says it is easy to get used
- to life. Well, I, too, will try to get used to it. Everything here is
- so well ordered that after rain comes sunshine and dries him who is
- wet, if he has not been in too great a hurry to die. Everything here
- is so well ordered that there is not a single disease for which there
- is no cure. This is so good! One may be ill all the time, provided
- there is a drug store nearby!
- At any rate, I have my little door, my secret exit, my narrow, wet,
- dark corridor, beyond which are the stars and all the breadth of my
- illimitable space! My friend, I want to be frank with you: there is
- a certain characteristic of insubordination in me, and it is that I
- fear. What is a cough or a catarrh of the stomach? But it is possible
- that I may suddenly refuse to cough, for no reason at all, or for some
- trivial cause, and run off! I like you at this moment. I am quite
- ready to conclude a long and fast alliance with you, but _something_
- may suddenly gleam across your dear face which...no, it is quite
- impossible to do without a little secret door for him who is so
- capricious and insubordinate! Unfortunately, I am proud, too,--an old
- and well known vice of Satan! Like a fish struck in the head, I am
- dazed by my human existence. A fatal unconsciousness is driving me
- into your life, but of one thing I am quite certain: I am of the race
- of the _free_. I am of the tribe of the _rulers_. I come from those
- who transform their will into laws. Conquered kings are taken into
- captivity but conquered kings never become slaves. And when I shall
- perceive, above my head, the whip of a dirty guard and my fettered
- hands are helpless to avert the blow...well: shall I remain living
- with welts upon my back? Shall I bargain with my judges about another
- blow of the whip? Shall I kiss the hand of the executioner? Or shall I
- send to the druggist for an eye lotion?
- No, let not Magnus misjudge me for a little slip in our agreement: I
- will live only as long as I want to live. All the blessings of the
- human existence, which he offered me on that night, when Satan was
- tempted by man, will not strike the weapon from my hand: in it alone
- is the assurance of my liberty! Oh, man, what are all your kingdoms
- and dukedoms, your knowledge and your nobility, your gold and your
- freedom beside this little, free movement of the finger which, in a
- moment carries you up to the Throne of Thrones!...
- _Maria!_
- Yes, I am afraid of her. The look in her eye is so clear and
- commanding, the light of her love is so mighty, enchanting and
- beautiful that I am all atremble and everything in me is quivering
- and urging me to immediate flight. With hitherto unknown happiness,
- with veiled promises, with singing dreams she tempts Me! Shall I cry:
- Away!--or shall I bend mine to her will and follow her?
- Where? I do not know. Or are there other worlds beside those I know or
- have forgotten? Whence comes this motionless light behind my back? It
- is growing ever broader and brighter. Its warm touch heats my soul, so
- that its Polar ice crumbles and melts. But I am afraid to look back.
- I may see Sodom on fire and if I look I may turn into stone. Or is it
- a new Sun, which I have not yet seen upon this earth that is rising
- behind my back, and I, like a fool, am fleeing from it and baring my
- back instead of my breast to it, the low, dumb neck of a frightened
- animal, instead of my lofty brow?
- Maria! Will you give me my revolver? I paid ten dollars for it,
- together with the holster. To you I will not give it for a kingdom!
- Only do not look at Me, oh, Queen...otherwise, otherwise I will give
- you everything: the revolver and the holster and Satan himself!
- March 26.
- Rome, Palazzo Orsini.
- It is the fifth night that I do not sleep. When the last light is
- turned out in my silent palazzo, I quietly descend the stairs, quietly
- order a machine--somehow or other even the noise of my own steps and
- voice disturb me, and I go for the night into the Campagna. There,
- leaving the automobile on the road, I wander about until day-break
- or sit immovable upon some dark ruins. I cannot be seen at all and
- the rare passersby, perhaps some peasants from Albano, converse quite
- loudly and without restraint. I like to remain unseen. It reminds me
- of something I have forgotten.
- Once, as I sat down on a stone, I disturbed a lizzard. It may have
- been that it lightly moved the grass beneath my feet and disappeared.
- Perhaps it was a snake? I do not know. But I wanted desperately to
- become a lizzard or a snake, concealed beneath a stone: I am troubled
- by my large stature, by the size of my feet and arms: They make it
- very difficult to become invisible. I likewise refrain from looking
- at my face in the mirror: it is painful to think I have a face, which
- all can see. Why did I fear darkness so much at the beginning? It is
- so easy to conceal oneself in it. Apparently all animals experience
- such subtle shame, fear and worriment and seek seclusion when they are
- changing their skin or hide.
- So, I am changing my skin? Ah, it is the same, worthless prattle! The
- whole trouble is that I have failed to escape _Maria's_ gaze and am,
- apparently preparing to close the last door, the door I guarded so
- well. But I am ashamed! I swear by eternal salvation, I feel ashamed,
- like a girl before the altar. I am almost blushing. Blushing Satan...no,
- quiet, quiet: _he_ is not here! Quiet!...
- Magnus told her everything. She did not reiterate that she loves Me
- but looked at me and said:
- "Promise _me_, you will not kill yourself."
- The _rest_ was in her gaze. You remember how bright it is? But do not
- think that I hastily agreed. Like a salamander in the fire, I quickly
- changed colors. I shall not repeat to you all the flaming phrases I
- uttered: I have forgotten them. But you remember how bright and serene
- Maria's gaze is? I kissed her hand and said humbly:
- "Madam! I do not ask you for forty days and a desert for contemplation:
- the desert I will find myself and a week is quite enough for me to
- think the matter over. But do give me a week and...please, don't look
- at me any more...otherwise...."
- No, that wasn't what I said. I said it in other words, but it's all
- the same. I am now changing my skin. It hurts me. I am frightened and
- ashamed because any crow might see me and come to pick my flesh. What
- use is there in the fact that there is a revolver in my pocket? It is
- only when you learn to hit yourself that you can hit a crow: crows
- know that and consequently do not fear tragically bulging pockets.
- Having become human and descended from above I have become but half a
- man. I entered upon this human existence as if into a strange element,
- but I have not lost myself in it entirely: I still cling with one hand
- to my Heaven and my eyes are still above the surface. But she commands
- me to accept man in his entirety: only he is a _man_ who has said:
- never shall I kill myself, never shall I leave life of my own free
- will. And what about the whip? These cursed cuts upon my back? Pride?
- Oh, Maria, Maria, how terribly you tempt Me!
- I look into the past of this earth and serious myriads of tragic
- shadows floating slowly over climes and ages! Their hands stretch
- hopelessly into space, their bony ribs tear through the lean, thin
- skin, their eyes are filled with tears, and their sighs have dried
- up their throats. I see blood and madness, violence and falsehood, I
- hear their oaths, which they constantly betray, their prayers to God,
- in which, with every word of mercy and forgiveness, they curse their
- own earth. Wherever I look, I see the earth smoking in convulsion; no
- matter in which direction I strain my ear, I hear everywhere unceasing
- moans: or is the womb of the earth itself filled with moaning? I see a
- myriad cups about me, but no matter which of them my lips may touch, I
- find it filled with rust and vinegar: or has man no other drink? And
- this is _man_?
- I knew _them_ before. I have seen _them_ before. But I looked upon
- them as Augustus did from his box upon the galaxy of his victims: Ave,
- Cæsar! These who are about to die salute you. And I looked upon them
- with the eyes of an eagle and my wise, belaureled head did not disdain
- to take notice of their groaning cries even with so much as a nod:
- they came and disappeared, they marched on in endless procession--and
- endless was the indifference of my Cæsar-like gaze. And now...is it
- really I who walks on so hastily, playing with the sand of the arena?
- And am I this dirty, emaciated, hungry slave who lifts his convict
- face into the air, yelling hoarsely into the indifferent eyes of Fate:
- "Ave, Cæsar! Ave, Cæsar!"
- I feel a sharp whip upon my back and with a cry of pain I fall to
- the ground. Is it some _Master_ who is beating me? No, it is another
- _slave_, who has been ordered to whip a _slave_: very soon his knout
- will be in my hand and his back will be covered with blood and he will
- be chewing the sand, the sand which now grates between my teeth.
- Oh, Maria, Maria, how terribly you tempt Me!
- III
- March 29
- Rome.
- Buy the blackest paint available, take the largest brush you can find
- and, with a broad line, divide my life into Yesterday and To-day. Take
- the staff of Moses and divide the stream of Time and dry it up clear
- down to its bed--then only will you sense my _To-day_.
- _Ave, Cæsar, moriturus te salutat!_
- April 2, Rome.
- Pallazzo Orsini.
- I do not want to lie. There is not yet in me, oh man, any love for
- you, and if you have hastened to open your arms to me, please close
- them: the time has not yet come for passionate embraces. Later, at
- some other date, we shall embrace, but meanwhile, let us be cold and
- restrained, like two gentlemen in misfortune. I cannot say that my
- respect for you has grown to any extent, although your life and your
- fate have become my life and my fate: let the facts suffice that I
- have voluntarily placed my neck beneath the yoke and that one and the
- same whip are furrowing our backs.
- Yes, that is quite sufficient for the present. You have observed that
- I no longer use a super-capital in writing the word "I"?--I have
- thrown it out together with the revolver. This is a sign of submission
- and equality. You understand? Like a king, I have taken the oath
- of allegiance to your constitution. But I shall not, like a king,
- betray this vow: I have preserved from my former life a respect for
- contracts. I swear I will be true to your comrades-at-hard-labor and
- will not make any attempt to escape alone!
- For the last few nights, before I took this decision, I thought much
- upon _our_ life. It is wretched. Don't you think so? It is difficult
- and humiliating to be this little thing called man, the cunning and
- avaricious little worm that crawls, hastily multiplies itself and
- lies, turning away its head from the final blow--the worm that no
- matter how much it lies, will perish just the same at the appointed
- hour. But I will be a worm. Let me, too, beget children, let the
- unthinking foot also crush my unthinking head at the appointed hour--I
- meekly accept all consequences. We are both of us humiliated, comrade,
- and in this alone there is some consolation: you will listen to
- my complaints and I--to yours. And if the matter should ultimately
- reach the state of litigation, why the witnesses will all be ready!
- That is well: When one kills in the public square there are always
- eyewitnesses.
- I will lie, if necessary. I will not lie in that free play of lying
- with which even prophets lie, but in that enforced manner of lying
- employed by the rabbit, which compels him to hide his ears, to be
- gray in summer and white in winter. What can one do when behind every
- tree a hunter with a rifle is concealed! This lying may appear to be
- ignoble from one point of view and may well call forth condemnation
- upon us, but you and I must live, my friend. Let _bystanders_ accuse
- us to their heart's content, but, when necessary, we will lie like
- wolves, too! we will spring forward, suddenly, and seize the enemy by
- the throat: one must live, brother, one must live, and are we to be
- held responsible for the fact that there is such great lure and such
- fine taste in blood! In reality neither you nor I are proud of our
- lying, of our cowardice or of our cruelty, and our bloodthirstiness is
- certainly not a matter of conviction.
- But however hideous our life may be, it is still more miserable. Do
- you agree with that? I do not love you yet, oh man, but on these
- nights I have been more than once on the verge of tears when I
- thought of your suffering, of your tortured body, and of your soul,
- relinquished to eternal crucifixion. It is well for a wolf to be a
- wolf. It is well for a rabbit to be a rabbit. But you, man, contain
- both God and Satan--and, oh, how terrible is the imprisonment of both
- in that narrow and dark cell of yours! Can God be a wolf, tearing
- throats and drinking blood! Can Satan be a rabbit, hiding his ears
- behind his humped back! No, that is intolerable. I agree with you.
- That fills life with eternal confusion and pain and the sorrow of the
- soul becomes boundless.
- Think of it: of three children that you beget, one becomes a murderer,
- the other the victim and the third, the judge and executioner. And
- each day the murderers are murdered and still they continue to be
- born; and each day the murderers kill conscience and conscience kills
- the murderers. And all are alive: the murderers and conscience. Oh,
- what a fog we live in! Give heed to all the _words_ spoken by man
- from the day of his birth and you will think: this is God! Look at
- all the _deeds_ of man from his very first day and you will exclaim
- in disgust: this is a beast! Thus does man struggle with himself for
- thousands of years and the sorrow of his soul is boundless and the
- suffering of his mind is terrible and horrible, while the _final_
- judge is slow about his coming.... But he will never come. I say this
- to you: we are forever alone with our life.
- But I accept this, too. Not yet has the earth endowed me with my name
- and I know not who I am: Cain or Abel? But I accept the sacrifice as I
- do murder. I am everywhere with you and everywhere I follow you, Man.
- Let us weep together in the desert, knowing that no one will give heed
- to us...or perhaps some one will? You see: you and I are beginning
- to have faith in some one's Ear and soon I will begin to believe in a
- triangular Eye...it is really impossible that such a concert should
- have no hearer, that such a spectacle should be wasted on the desert
- air!
- I think of the fact that no one has yet beaten me, and I am afraid.
- What will become of my soul when some one's grubby hand strikes me
- on the face.... What will become of me! For I know that no earthly
- revenge could return my face to me. And what will then become of my
- soul?
- I swear I will become reconciled even to this. Everywhere with you and
- after you, man. What is my face when you struck the face of your own
- Christ and spat into his eyes? Everywhere with you! And if necessary,
- I myself will strike at Christ with the hand with which I now write:
- I go with you to all ends, man. They beat us and they will continue
- to beat us. We beat Christ and will still beat him.... Ah, bitter is
- our life, almost unbearable!
- Only a while ago, I rejected your embraces. I said they were
- premature. But now I say: let us embrace more firmly, brother, let us
- cling closely to each other--it is so painful, so terrible to be alone
- in this life when all exits from it are closed. And I know not yet
- wherein there is more pride and liberty: in going away voluntarily,
- whenever one wishes, or in accepting, without resistance, the hand
- of the executioner? In calmly placing one's hands upon his breast,
- putting one foot forward and, with head proudly bent backward, to wait
- calmly:
- "Do thy duty, executioner!"
- Or:
- "Soldiers, here's my breast: fire!"
- There is something plastic in this pose and it pleases me. But still
- more am I pleased with the fact that once again my greater Ego
- is rising within me at the striking of this pose. Of course, the
- executioner will not fail to do his duty and the soldiers will not
- lower their rifles, but the important thing is the line, the _moment_,
- when before my very death itself I shall suddenly find myself immortal
- and broader than life itself. It is strange, but with one turn of the
- head, with one phrase, expressed or conceived at the proper moment, I
- could, so to speak, halt the function of my very spirit and the entire
- operation would be performed outside of me. And when death shall have
- finally performed its rôle of redeemer, its darkness would not eclipse
- the light, for the latter will have first separated itself from me and
- scattered into space, in order to reassemble somewhere and blaze forth
- again...but where?
- Strange, strange.... I sought to escape from men--and found myself
- at that wall of Unconsciousness known only to Satan! How important,
- indeed, is the pose! I must make note of that. But will the pose be
- as convincing and will it not lose in plasticity if instead of death,
- the executioner and the firing squad I should be compelled to say
- something else...well, something like:
- "Here's my face: strike!"
- I do not know why I am so concerned about my face, but it does concern
- me greatly. I confess, man, that it worries me very much indeed. No,
- a mere trifle. I will simply subdue my spirit. Let them beat me! When
- the spirit is crushed the operation is no more painful or humiliating
- than it would be if I were to beat my overcoat on its hanger....
- ...But I have forgotten that I am not alone and being in your
- company have fallen into impolite meditation. For a half hour I have
- been silent over this sheet of paper and it seemed all the time as if
- I had been talking and quite excitedly! I forgot that it is not enough
- to think, that one must also speak! What a shame it is, man, that for
- the exchange of thoughts we must resort to the service of such a poor
- and stealthy broker as the word--he steals all that is precious and
- defiles the best thoughts with the chatter of the market place. In
- truth, this pains me much more than death or the beating.
- I am terrified by the necessity of _silence_ when I come upon the
- _extraordinary_, which is inexpressible. Like a rivulet I run and
- advance only as far as the ocean: in the depths of the latter is the
- end of my murmuring. Within me, however, motionless and omnipresent,
- rocking to and fro, is the ocean. It only hurls noise and surf upon
- the earth, but its depths are dumb and motionless and quite without
- any purpose are the ships sailing on its surface. How shall I describe
- it?
- Before I resolved to enroll myself as an earthly slave I did not
- speak to Maria or to Magnus.... Why should I speak to Maria when her
- beckoning is _clear_, like her gaze? But having become a slave I went
- to Magnus to complain and to seek advice--apparently the human begins
- thus.
- Magnus heard me in silence and, as it seemed to me, with some inner
- excitement. He works day and night, virtually knowing no rest, and
- the complicated business of the liquidation of my property is moving
- forward as rapidly in his hands as if he had been engaged in such work
- all his life. I like his heroic gestures and his contempt for details:
- when he cannot unravel a situation he hurls millions out of the window
- with the grace of a grandee. But he is weary and his eyes seem larger
- and darker on the background of his dim face. Only now have I learned
- from Maria that he is tortured by frequent headaches.
- My complaints against life, I fear, have failed to arouse any
- particular sympathy on his part: No matter what the accusations
- I brought against man and the life he leads, Magnus would reply
- impatiently:
- "Yes, yes, Wondergood. That is what being a man means. Your
- misfortune is that you discovered this rather late and are now quite
- unnecessarily aroused. When you shall have _experienced_ at least
- a part of that which now terrifies you, you will speak in quite
- a different tone. However, I am glad that you have dropped your
- _indifference_: you have become, much more nervous and energetic. But
- whence comes this immeasurable terror in your eyes? Collect yourself,
- Wondergood!"
- I laughed.
- "Thank you. I am quite collected. Apparently it is the _slave_, in
- expectation of the whip, who peers at you from within my eye. Have
- patience, Magnus. I am not quite acclimated to the situation. Tell me,
- shall I or shall I not be compelled to commit...murder?"
- "Quite possibly."
- "And can you tell me _how_ this happens?"
- Both of us looked simultaneously at his white hands and Magnus replied
- somewhat ironically:
- "No, I will not tell you that. But if you wish I will tell you
- something else: I will tell you what it means to accept man to the
- _very end_--it is this that is really worrying you, is it not?"
- And with much coolness and a sort of secret impatience, as if
- another thought were devouring his attention, he told me briefly of
- a certain unwilling and terrible murderer. I do not know whether he
- was telling me a fact or a dark tale created for my personal benefit,
- but this was the story: It happened long ago. A certain Russian, a
- political exile, a man of wide education yet deeply religious, as
- often happens in Russia, escaped from _katorga_, and after long and
- painful wandering over the Siberian forests, he found refuge with
- some non-conformist sectarians. Huge, wooden, fresh huts in a thick
- forest, surrounded by tall fences; great bearded people, large ugly
- dogs--something on that order. And in his very presence, soon after
- his arrival, there was to be performed a monstrous crime: these insane
- mystics, under the influence of some wild religious fanaticism, were
- to sacrifice an innocent _lamb_, i.e., upon a home-made altar, to
- the accompaniment of hymns, they were to kill a child. Magnus did
- not relate all the painful details, limiting himself solely to the
- fact that it was a seven year old boy, in a new shirt, and that his
- young mother witnessed the ceremony. All the reasonable arguments,
- all the objections of the exile that they were about to perform a
- great sacrilege, that not the mercy of the Lord awaited them but the
- terrible tortures of hell, proved powerless to overcome the fierce
- and dull stubbornness of the fanatics. He fell upon his knees,
- begged, wept and tried to seize the knife--at that moment the victim,
- stripped, was already on the table while the _mother_ was trying
- desperately to control her tears and cries--but he only succeeded in
- rousing the mad anger of the fanatics: they threatened to kill him,
- too....
- Magnus looked at me and said slowly with a peculiar calm:
- "And how would you have acted in that case, Mr. Wondergood?"
- "Well, I would have fought until I was killed?"
- "Yes! He did better. He offered his services and with his _own_ hand,
- with appropriate song, he cut the boy's throat. You are astonished?
- But he said: 'Better for me to take this terrible sin and punishment
- upon myself than to surrender into the arms of hell these innocent
- fools.' Of course, such things happen only with Russians and, it seems
- to me, he himself was somewhat deranged. He died eventually in an
- insane asylum."
- Following a period of silence, I asked:
- "And how would you have acted, Magnus?"
- And with still greater coolness, he replied:
- "Really, I do not know. It would have depended on the moment. It is
- quite possible I would have left those beasts, but it is also possible
- that I too...human madness is extremely contagious, Mr. Wondergood!"
- "Do you call it only madness?"
- "I said: human madness. But it is you who are concerned in this,
- Wondergood: _how_ do you like it? I am off to work. In the meantime,
- devote yourself to discerning the _boundary_ of the human, which you
- are now willing to accept in its entirety, and then tell me about it.
- You have not changed your intention, I hope, of remaining with _us_?"
- He laughed and went away, patronizingly polite. And I remained to
- think. And so I think: where is the boundary?
- I confess that I have begun to fear Magnus somewhat...or is this
- fear one of the gifts of my complete human existence? But when
- he speaks to me in this fashion I become animated with a strange
- confusion, my eyes move timidly, my will is bent, as if too great and
- strange a load had been put upon it. Think, man: I shake his big hand
- with _reverence_ and find _joy_ in his caress! This is not true of me
- before, but now, in every conversation, I perceive that this man can
- go _further_ than I in everything.
- I fear I _hate_ him. If I have not yet experienced love, I know not
- hatred either, and it will be strange indeed if I should be compelled
- to begin by hating the _father_ of Maria!... In what a fog we do
- live, man! I have just merely mentioned the name of Maria, her clear
- gaze has only touched my soul and already my hatred of Magnus is
- extinguished (or did I only conjure it up?) and extinguished also is
- my fear of man and life (or did I merely invent it?) and great joy,
- great peace has descended upon me.
- It is as if I were again a white schooner on the glassy ocean; as if
- I held all answers in my hand and were merely too lazy to open it and
- read therein, as if _immortality_ had returned to me...ah, I can
- speak no more, oh, man! Let me press your hand?
- April 6, 1914.
- The good Toppi approves _all_ my actions. He amuses me greatly, this
- good Toppi. As I expected, he has _completely_ forgotten his true
- origin: he regards all my reminders of our past as jests. Sometimes
- he laughs but more often he frowns as if he were hurt, for he is
- religious and considers it an insult to be compared with a "horny"
- devil, even in jest: he himself is now convinced that devils have
- horns. His Americanism, at first pale and weak, like a pencil sketch,
- has now become filled with color, and I, myself, am ready to believe
- all the nonsense given out by Toppi as his life--it is so sincere
- and convincing. According to _him_, he has been in my service about
- fifteen years and particularly amusing it is to hear his stories of
- his youth.
- Apparently he, too, has been touched by the charms of _Maria_: my
- decision to surrender all my money to her father astonished him much
- less than I expected. He merely chewed his cigar for a moment and
- asked:
- "And what will he do with your money?"
- "I do not know, Toppi."
- He raised his brow and frowned:
- "You are joking, Mr. Wondergood?"
- "You see, Toppi: just now we, i.e., Magnus is occupied in converting
- my estate into gold and jamming it into banks, in his name, of course.
- You understand?"
- "How can I fail to understand, Mr. Wondergood?"
- "These are all preliminary, essential steps. What may happen further...I
- do not know yet."
- "Oh, you are jesting again?"
- "You must remember, old man, that I myself did not know what to do
- with my money. It is not money that I need but new activity. You
- understand? But Magnus _knows_. I do not know yet what his plans are
- but it is what Magnus said that is important to me: 'I will compel you
- to work, Wondergood!' Oh, Magnus is a great man. You will see that for
- yourself, Toppi!"
- Toppi frowned again and replied:
- "You are master of your money, Mr. Wondergood."
- "Ah, you have forgotten everything, Toppi! Don't you remember about
- that _play_? That I wanted to play?"
- "Yes, you did say something about it. But I thought you were joking."
- "No, I was not joking. I was only mistaken. They do play here but this
- is not a theater. It is a gambling house and so I gave all my money
- to Magnus: let him break the bank. You understand? He is the banker,
- he will manage the game and I shall simply do the betting.... Quite a
- life, eh?"
- Apparently the old fool understood nothing. He kept raising and
- lowering his eyebrows and again inquired:
- "And how soon may we expect your betrothal to Signorina Maria?"
- "I do not know yet, Toppi. But that is not the thing. I see you are
- dissatisfied. You do not trust Magnus?"
- "Oh, Signor Magnus is a worthy man. But one thing I do fear, Mr.
- Wondergood, if you will permit me to be frank: he is a man who does
- not believe. This seems strange to me: how can the father of Signorina
- Maria be a non-believer? Is that not so? Permit me to ask: do you
- intend to give anything to his Eminence?"
- "That depends now on Magnus."
- "Oh! On Signor Magnus? So, so. And do you know that His Eminence has
- already been to see Signor Magnus? He was here a few days ago and
- spent several hours in this study. You were not at home at that time."
- "No, I do not know. We have not spoken about that, but have no fear:
- we will find _something_ for the cardinal. Confess, old man: you are
- quite enchanted with that old monkey?"
- Toppi glanced at me sharply and sighed. Then he lapsed into
- thought...and strange as it may seem--something akin to a monkey
- appeared in his countenance, as in the cardinal's. Later, from
- somewhere deep within him, there appeared a smile. It illumined his
- hanging nose, rose to his eyes and blazed forth within them in two
- bright, little flames, not devoid of wanton malice. I looked at him in
- astonishment and even with joy: yes that was my old Toppi, risen from
- his human grave.... I am convinced that his hair again has the smell
- of fur instead of oil! Gently I kissed his brow--old habits cannot be
- rooted out--and exclaimed:
- "You are enchanting, Toppi! But _what_ was it that gave you such joy?"
- "I waited to see whether he would show Maria to the cardinal?"
- "Well?"
- "He did not!"
- "Well?"
- But Toppi remained silent. And as it had come so did the smile
- disappear, slowly: at first the hanging nose grew pale and became
- quite indistinct, then all at once the flames within his eyes went
- out--and again the old dejection, sourness and odor of church
- hypocrisy buried him who had been resurrected for a moment. It would
- have been useless to trouble the ashes with further questions.
- This happened yesterday. A warm rain fell during the day but it
- cleared up towards evening and Magnus, weary and apparently suffering
- with headache, suggested that we take a ride into the Campagna. We
- left our chauffeur behind, a practice peculiar to all our intimate
- trips. His duties were performed by Magnus, with extraordinary skill
- and daring. On this occasion, his usual daring reached the point of
- audacity: despite the ever-thickening twilight and the muddy road,
- Magnus drove the automobile at such mad speed that more than once did
- I look up at his broad, motionless back. But that was only at first:
- the presence of Maria, whom I supported with my arm (I do not dare
- say embraced!) soon brought me to the loss of all my senses. I cannot
- describe it all to you--so that you would really feel it--the aromatic
- air of the Campagna, which caressed my face, the magnificence and
- charm of our arrow-like speed, my virtual loss of all sensation of
- material weight, of the complete disappearance of _body_, when I felt
- myself a speeding thought, a flying gaze....
- But still less can I tell you of _Maria_. Her Madonna gaze whitened
- in the twilight, like marble; like the mysterious silence and perfect
- beauty of marble was her gentle, sweet and wise silence. I barely
- touched her slender, supple figure, but if I had been embracing within
- the hollow of my hand the entire firmness of earth and sky I could
- not have felt a more complete mastery of the _whole world_! Do you
- know what a line is in measurement? Not much,--is that not so? And it
- was only by the measure of a line that Maria bent her divine form to
- me--no, no more than that! But what would you say, man, if the _sun_,
- coming down from its course just one line were to come closer to you
- by that distance? Would you not consider it a _miracle_?
- My existence seemed unbounded, like the universe, which knows neither
- your time nor distance. For a moment there gleamed before me the wall
- of my unconsciousness, that unconquerable barrier against which the
- spirit of him who has donned the human form beats in vain,--and as
- quickly did it disappear: it was swallowed, without sound or conflict,
- by the waves of my new sea. Even higher they rose, enshrouding the
- world. There was no longer anything to remember for me or to know: my
- new human soul remembered all and commanded all. I am a man!
- What gave me the idea that I hate Magnus? I looked at this motionless,
- erect and firm human back and thought that behind it a heart was
- beating. I thought of how painful and terrible it was for it to remain
- firm and erect and of how much pain and suffering had already fallen
- to the lot of this human creature, no matter how proud it might appear
- or dejected. And suddenly I realized to the extent of pain and tears,
- how much I loved Magnus, this very same Magnus! He speeds so wildly
- and has no fear! And the very moment I sensed this, Maria's eyes
- turned upon me.... Ah, they are as bright at night as they are by day!
- But at that moment there was a troubled look within them. They were
- asking: Why these tears?
- What could I say in reply with the aid of weak words! I silently took
- Maria's hand and pressed it to my lips. And without taking her gaze
- off me, shining in cold, marble luster, she quietly withdrew her
- hand--and I became confused--and again gave it to me, taking off her
- glove. Will you permit me to discontinue, man? I do not know who you
- are, you who are reading these lines, and I rather fear you...your
- swift and daring imagination. Moreover, a gentleman feels ill at ease
- in speaking of his success with the ladies. Besides, it was time to
- return: on the hills the lights of Tivoli were already gleaming and
- Magnus reduced his speed.
- We were moving quite slowly on the return trip and Magnus, grown
- merry, wiping his brow with his handkerchief, now and then addressed
- brief remarks to us. There is one thing I will not conceal: her
- unquestionable womanliness emphasizes the completeness of my
- transformation. As we walked up the broad stairs of my palazzo, amid
- its princely wealth and beauty, I suddenly thought:
- "Why not send all this adventure to the devil? Why not simply wed and
- live like a prince in this palace? There will be freedom, children,
- laughter, just earthly happiness and love."
- And again I looked at Magnus. He seemed strange to me: "I will
- take your money!" Then I saw the stern gaze of my Maria--and the
- contradiction between her love and this plan of simple, modest
- happiness was so great and emphatic that my thought did not even
- require an answer. I now recollect this thought accidentally as a
- curiosity of "Toppism." Let me call it "Toppism" in honor of my
- perfect Toppi.
- The evening was charming. At Magnus' request, Maria sang. You cannot
- imagine the reverence with which Toppi listened to her singing! He
- dared not utter a word to Maria, but on leaving he shook my hand long
- and with particular warmth. Then, similarly, he shook the hand of
- Magnus. I also rose to retire.
- "Do you intend to do some work yet, Magnus?"
- "No. Don't you want to go to sleep, Wondergood? Come to my room. We'll
- chat a bit. Incidentally, there is a paper for you to sign. Do you
- want any wine?"
- "Oh, with pleasure, Magnus. I love conversation at night."
- We drank the wine. Magnus, whistling something out of tune, silently
- walked the carpet, while I, as usual, reclined in a chair. The Palazzo
- was all silence, like a sarcophagus, and this reminded me of that
- stirring night when Mad Mars raved behind the wall. Suddenly, Magnus
- exclaimed loudly, without hesitation:
- "The affair is progressing splendidly."
- "So?"
- "In two weeks everything will be completed. Your swollen, scattered
- wealth, in which one can be lost as in a wood, will be transformed
- into a clear, concise and exact sack of gold...to be more
- correct--into a mountain. Do you know the exact estimate of your
- money, Wondergood?"
- "Oh, don't, Magnus. I don't want to know it. Moreover, it's your
- money."
- Magnus looked at me quickly and said sharply:
- "No, it's yours."
- I shrugged my shoulders. I did not want to argue. It was so quiet and
- I so enjoyed watching this strong man silently pacing to and fro. I
- still remembered his motionless, stern back, behind which I could
- clearly see his heart. He continued, after a pause:
- "Do you know, Wondergood, that the Cardinal has been here?"
- "The old monkey? Yes, I know. What did he want?"
- "The same thing. He wanted to see you but I did not feel like taking
- you away from your thoughts."
- "Thanks. Did you drive him out?"
- Magnus replied angrily:
- "I am sorry to say,--no. Don't put on airs, Wondergood: I have already
- told you that we must be careful of him as long as we remain here. But
- you are quite right. He is an old, shaven, useless, evil, gluttonous,
- cowardly monkey!"
- "Ah, ah! Then why not show him the door?"
- "Impossible."
- "I believe you, Magnus. And what does this king I hear about want, he
- who is to visit us some of these days?"
- "Ex-king. Probably the same thing. You should receive him yourself, of
- course."
- "But only in your presence. Otherwise I refuse. You must understand,
- my friend, that from that memorable night on I have been merely your
- disciple. You find it impossible to drive out the old monkey? Very
- well, let him remain. You say we must receive some ex-king? Very well,
- receive him. But I would rather be hanged on the first lamppost than
- to do so without knowing your reason."
- "You are jesting again, Wondergood."
- "No, I am _quite_ serious, Magnus. But I swear by eternal salvation
- that I know not what we are doing or intend to do. I am not reproaching
- you. I am not even questioning you: as I have already told you, I
- trust you and am ready to follow your directions. That you may not
- again reproach me with levity and impracticability, I may add a little
- business detail: Maria and her love are my hostages. Moreover, I
- do not yet know to what you intend to devote your energy, of whose
- boundlessness I am becoming more convinced each day; what plans and
- ends your experience and mind have set before you. But of one thing I
- have no doubt: they will be huge plans, great objects. And I, too,
- shall always find something to do beside you...at any rate this will
- be much better than my brainless old women and six secretaries. Why do
- you refuse to believe in my modesty, as I believe in your...genius.
- Imagine that I am come from some other planet, from Mars, for instance,
- and wish in the most serious manner possible, to pass through the
- experience of a _man_.... It is all very simple, Magnus!"
- Magnus frowned at me for a few moments and suddenly broke into
- laughter:
- "You certainly are a pilgrim from some other planet, Wondergood!...
- And what if I should devote your gold to doing evil?"
- "Why? Is that so very interesting?"
- "Hm!... You think _that is_ not interesting?"
- "Yes, and so do you. You are too big a man to do little evil, just as
- billions constitute too much money, while honestly as far as great
- evil is concerned, I know not yet what _great evil_ is? Perhaps it is
- really _great good_? In my recent contemplations, there...came to
- me a strange thought: Who is of greater _use_ to man--he who hates or
- he who loves him? You see, Magnus, how ignorant I still am of human
- affairs and...how ready I am for almost anything."
- Without laughter and, with what seemed to me, extreme curiosity,
- Magnus measured me with his eyes, as if he were deciding the
- question: is this a fool I see before me, or the foremost sage of
- America? Judging by his subsequent question he was nearer the second
- opinion:
- "So, if I have correctly understood your words, you are afraid of
- _nothing_, Mr. Wondergood?"
- "I think _not_."
- "And murder...many murders?"
- "You remember the point you made in your story about the boy of the
- _boundary_ of the human? In order that there may be no mistake, I have
- moved it forward several kilometers. Will that be enough?"
- Something like respect arose in Magnus' eyes...the devil take him,
- though, he really considers me a clod! Continuing to pace the room, he
- looked at me curiously several times, as if he were trying to recall
- and verify my remark. Then, with a quick movement, he touched my
- shoulders:
- "You have an active mind, Wondergood. It is a pity I did not come to
- know you before."
- "Why?"
- "Just so. I am interested to know how you will speak to the king: he
- will probably suggest something very evil to you. And great evil is
- great good. Is that not so?"
- He again broke into laughter and shook his head in a friendly fashion.
- "I don't think so. The chances are he will propose something very
- silly."
- "Hm!... And is that not great wisdom?" He laughed again but frowned
- suddenly and added seriously: "Do not feel hurt, Wondergood. I liked
- what you said very much and it is well you do not put any questions
- to me at this time: I could not answer them just now. But there is
- something I can say even now...in general terms, of course. Are you
- listening?"
- "I am all attention."
- Magnus seated himself opposite me and, taking a sip of wine, asked
- with strange seriousness:
- "How do you regard explosives?"
- "With great respect."
- "Yes? That is cold praise, but, I dare say, they don't deserve
- much more. Yet, there was a time when I worshiped dynamite as I do
- frankness...this scar on my brow is the result of my youthful
- enthusiasm. Since then I have made great strides in chemistry--and
- other things--and this has cooled my zeal. The drawback of every
- explosive, beginning with powder, is that the explosion is confined to
- a limited space and strikes only the things near at hand: it might do
- for war, of course, but it is quite inadequate where bigger things are
- concerned. Besides, being a thing of material limitations, dynamite
- or powder demands a constantly guiding hand: in itself, it is dumb,
- blind and deaf, like a mole. To be sure, in Whitehead's mine we find
- an attempt to create consciousness, giving the shell the power to
- correct, so to speak, certain mistakes and to maintain a certain aim,
- but that is only a pitiful parody on eyesight...."
- "And you want your 'dynamite' to have consciousness, will and eyes?"
- "You are right. That is what I want. And my new _dynamite_ does have
- these attributes: will, consciousness, eyes."
- "And what is your aim? But this sounds...terrible."
- Magnus smiled faintly.
- "Terrible? I fear your terror will turn to laughter when I give you
- the name of my dynamite. It is _man_. Have you never looked at man
- from this point of view, Wondergood?"
- "I confess,--no. Does dynamite, too, belong to the domain of
- psychology? This is all very ridiculous."
- "Chemistry, psychology!" cried Magnus, angrily: "that is all because
- knowledge has been subdivided into so many different subjects, just
- as a hand with ten fingers is now a rarity. You and your Toppi--all
- of us are explosive shells, some loaded and ready, others still to be
- loaded. And the crux of the matter lies, you understand, in how to
- load the shell and, what is still more important: how to explode it.
- You know, of course, that the method of exploding various preparations
- depends upon their respective compositions?"
- I am not going to repeat here the lecture on explosives given me
- by Magnus with great zeal and enthusiasm: it was the first time I
- had seen him in such a state of excitement. Despite the absorbing
- interest of the subject, as my friends the journalists would say, I
- heard only half the things he was saying and concentrated most of
- my attention on his skull, the skull which contained such wide and
- dangerous knowledge. Whether it was due to the conviction carried in
- Magnus' words, or to pure weariness--I know not which--this round
- skull, blazing with the flames of his eyes, gradually assumed the
- character of a real, explosive shell, of a bomb, with the fuse lit for
- action.... I trembled when Magnus carelessly threw upon the table a
- heavy object resembling a cake of grayish-yellow soap, and exclaimed
- involuntarily:
- "What's that?"
- "It looks like soap or wax. But it has the force of a devil. One
- half of this would be enough to blow St. Peter's into bits. It is a
- capricious Devil. You may kick it about or chop it into pieces, you
- may burn it in your stove, it will remain ever silent: a dynamite
- shell may tear it apart yet it will not rouse its wrath. I may throw
- it into the street, beneath the hoofs of horses; the dogs may bite at
- it and children may play with it--and still it remains indifferent.
- But I need only apply a current of high pressure to it--and the force
- of the explosion will be monstrous, limitless. A strong but silly
- devil!"
- With equal carelessness, bordering almost upon contempt, Magnus threw
- his devil back into the table drawer and looked at me sternly. My
- eyebrows twitched slightly:
- "I see you know your subject to perfection, and I rather like this
- capricious devil of yours. But I would like to hear you discuss _man_."
- Magnus laughed:
- "And was it not of him I have just spoken? Is not the history of this
- piece of soap the history of your _man_, who can be beaten, burned,
- hacked to bits, hurled beneath the hoofs of horses, thrown to the
- dogs, torn into shreds--without rousing his consuming wrath or even
- his anger? But prick him with _something_--and the explosion will be
- terrible...as you will learn, Mr. Wondergood."
- He laughed again and rubbed his white hands with pleasure: he scarcely
- remembered at that moment that human blood was already upon them.
- And is it really necessary for _man_ to remember that? After a pause
- commensurate with the respect due to the subject, I asked:
- "And do you know how to make a _man_ explode?"
- "Certainly."
- "And would you consider it permissible to give me this information?"
- "Unfortunately it is not so easy or convenient because the current of
- high pressure would require too much elucidation, dear Wondergood."
- "Can't you put it briefly?"
- "Oh, briefly. Well, it is necessary to promise man some _miracle_."
- "Is that all?"
- "That is all."
- "Lies once more? The old monkey?"
- "Yes, lies again. But not the old monkey. It is not that I have in
- mind. Neither crusades nor immortality in heaven. This is the period
- of other miracles and other wonders. He promised resurrection to the
- dead. I promise resurrection to the living. His followers were the
- dead. Mine...ours--are the living."
- "But the dead _did not arise_. How about the living?"
- "Who _knows_? _We must make an experiment._ I cannot yet confide in
- you the business end of the enterprise but I warn you: the experiment
- must be conducted on a very large scale. You are not afraid, Mr.
- Wondergood?"
- I shrugged my shoulders indicating nothing definite. What could I
- answer? This gentleman carrying upon his shoulders a bomb instead of
- a head again split me into two halves, of which _man_, alas, was the
- lesser one. As Wondergood, I confess without shame, I felt cruel fear
- and even pain: just as if the monstrous explosion had already touched
- my bones and were now breaking them...ah, but where is my endless
- happiness with Maria, where the boundless peace of mind, where the
- devil is that white schooner? No, as Great Immortal Curiosity, as
- the genius of _play_ and eternal movement, as the rapacious gaze of
- unclosing eyes I felt--I confess this, too, without shame--great joy,
- bordering upon ecstasy! And with a shiver of delight I mumbled:
- "What a pity I did not know that before."
- "Why a pity?"
- "Oh, just so. Do not forget that I am come from another planet and
- am only now getting acquainted with man. So what shall we do with
- this--planet--Magnus?"
- He laughed again:
- "You are a strange fellow, Wondergood! With this planet? We will give
- it a little holiday. But enough jesting. I do not like it!" He frowned
- angrily and looked at me sternly, like an old professor...the manner
- of this gentleman was not distinguished by flippancy. When it seemed
- to him that I had grown sufficiently serious he shook his head in
- approval and asked: "Do you know, Wondergood, that the whole of Europe
- is now in a very uneasy state?"
- "War?"
- "Possibly war. Everybody is secretly expecting it. _But_ war precedes
- the belief in the kingdom of _miracles_. You understand: we have lived
- too long in simple faith in the multiplication table, _we_ are tired
- of the multiplication table, _we_ are filled with ennui and anxiety
- on this straight road whose mire is lost in infinity. Just now all
- of us are demanding some miracle and soon the day will come when we
- will demand the miracle immediately! It is not I alone who wants _an
- experiment on a large scale_--the whole world is preparing it...ah,
- Wondergood, in truth, life would not be worth the candle if it were
- not for these highly interesting moments! Highly interesting!" He
- greedily rubbed his hands.
- "You are pleased?"
- "As a chemist, I am in ecstasy. My shells are already loaded, without
- being themselves conscious of the fact, but they will know it well
- enough when I apply the torch. Can you imagine the sight when _my_
- dynamite will begin to explode, its consciousness, its will, its eyes
- directed straight upon its goal?"
- "And blood? Perhaps my reminder is out of place but I remember an
- occasion when you spoke of _blood_ with much excitement."
- Magnus fixed his long gaze upon me: something akin to suffering
- appeared in his eyes: But this was not the prick of conscience or
- pity--it was the emotion of a mature and wise man whose thoughts had
- been interrupted by the foolish question of a child: "Blood," he said,
- "what blood?"
- I recalled to him his words on that occasion and told him of my
- strange and extremely unpleasant dream about the bottles, filled with
- blood instead of wine, and so easily broken. Weary, with his eyes
- closed, he listened to my tale and sighed heavily.
- "Blood!"--he murmured: "blood! that's nonsense. I told you many trite
- things on that occasion, Wondergood, and it is not worth while to
- recall them. However, if _this_ gives you fear, it is not too late."
- I replied resolutely:
- "I fear _nothing_. As I have already said, I shall follow you
- everywhere. It is _my_ blood that is protesting--you understand?--not
- my consciousness or will. Apparently I shall be the first to be fooled
- by you: I, too, seek a miracle. Is not your _Maria_ a miracle? I have
- been repeating the multiplication table night and day and I have grown
- to hate it like the bars of a prison. From the point of view of your
- chemistry, I am quite loaded and I ask but one thing: blow me up as
- quickly as possible!"
- Magnus agreed sternly:
- "Very well. In about two weeks. Are you satisfied?"
- "Thank you. I hope that Signorina Maria will then become my wife?"
- Magnus laughed.
- "Madonna?"
- "Oh, I don't understand your smile...and, I must say, my hope is
- altogether in conformity with the regard I bear for your daughter,
- Signor Magnus."
- "Don't excite yourself, Wondergood. My smile was not about Maria but
- about your faith in miracles. You are a splendid fellow, Wondergood.
- I am beginning to love you like a son. In two weeks you will receive
- everything and then we shall conclude a new and strong pact. Your
- hand, comrade!"
- For the first time he shook my hand in a strong, comradely fashion. I
- would have kissed him if there had been a simple human head instead of
- a bomb upon his shoulders. But to touch a bomb! Not even in the face
- of my utmost respect for him!
- That was the first night that I slept like one slain and the stone
- walls of the palace did not press upon me. The walls were brushed by
- the explosive power of Magnus' speech, while the roof melted away
- beneath the starry coverlet of Maria: my soul departed into the realms
- of her calm love and refuge. The mountain Tivoli and its fires--that
- was what I saw as I fell into slumber.
- April 8, Rome.
- Before knocking at my door, His Majesty, the ex-King E. had knocked
- at no small number of entrances in Europe. True to the example of
- his apostolic ancestors, who believed in the gold of Israel, he
- particularly liked to approach Jewish bankers; I believe that the
- honor done me by his visit was based upon his firm conviction that
- I was a Jew. Although His Majesty was visiting Rome incognito, I,
- warned of his visit, met him at the foot of the stairs and bowed low
- to him--I think that is the requirement of etiquette. Then, also in
- accordance with etiquette, we introduced ourselves, he--his adjutant,
- I--Thomas Magnus.
- I confess I had not a very flattering opinion of the former king
- and that is why he astonished me all the more with his high opinion
- of himself. He gave me his hand politely but with such haughty
- indifference, he looked at me with such complete self-confidence, as
- if he were gazing at a being of a lower order, he walked ahead of me
- so naturally, sat down without invitation, gazed upon the walls and
- furniture in such frankly royal manner, that my entire uneasiness due
- to my unfamiliarity with etiquette disappeared immediately. It was
- only necessary to follow this fellow, who appeared to know everything
- so well. In appearance he was quite a young man, with fresh complexion
- and magnificent coiffure, somewhat worn out but sufficiently
- well-preserved, with colorless eyes and a calm, brazenly protruding
- lower lip. His hands were beautiful. He did not try to conceal that he
- was bored by my American face, which appeared Jewish to him, and by
- the necessity of asking me for money: he yawned slightly after seating
- himself and said:
- "Sit down, gentlemen."
- And with a slight command of the hand he ordered the adjutant to state
- the nature of his proposal. He paid no attention to Magnus at all,
- and while the fat, red and obliging adjutant was stealthily narrating
- the story of the "misunderstanding" which caused the departure of His
- Majesty from his country--His Majesty was nonchalantly examining his
- feet. Finally, he interrupted his representative's speech with the
- impatient remark:
- "Briefer, Marquis. Mr.... Wondergood is as well familiar with this
- history as we are. In a word, these fools kicked me out. How do you
- regard it, dear Wondergood?"
- "How do I regard it?" I bowed low:
- "I am glad to be of service to Your Majesty."
- "Well, yes, that's what they all say. But will you give me any money?
- Continue, Marquis."
- The Marquis, smiling gently at me and Magnus (despite his obesity he
- looked quite hungry) continued to weave his thin flimsy web about the
- misunderstanding, until the bored king again interrupted him:
- "You understand: these fools thought that I was responsible for all
- their misfortunes. Wasn't that silly, Mr. Wondergood? And now they are
- worse off than ever and they write: 'Come back, for God's sake. We are
- perishing!' Read the letters, Marquis."
- At first the king spoke with a trace of excitement but apparently
- any effort soon wearied him. The Marquis obediently took a packet
- of papers from the portfolio and tortured us with the complaints of
- the orphaned subjects, begging their lord to return. I looked at the
- king: he was no less bored than we were. It was so clear to him that
- the people could not exist without him that all confirmations of
- this seemed superfluous.... And I felt so strange: whence does this
- miserable man get so much happy confidence? There was no doubt that
- this bird, unable to find a crumb for himself, sincerely believed in
- the peculiar qualities of his personage, capable of bestowing upon a
- whole people marvelous benefactions. Stupidity? Training? Habit? At
- that moment the marquis was reading the plea of some correspondent, in
- which, through the web of official mediocrity and the lies of swollen
- phrases, gleamed the very same confidence and sincere call. Was that,
- too, stupidity and habit?
- "And so forth, and so forth," interrupted the king listlessly: "that
- will do, Marquis, you may close your portfolio. Well, what you think
- of it, dear Mr. Wondergood?"
- "I will be bold enough to say to Your Majesty that I am a
- representative of an old, democratic republic and...."
- "Stop, Wondergood! Republic, democracy! That's nonsense. You know well
- enough yourself that a king is a necessity. You, in America, will
- have a king, too, some day. How can you get along without a king: who
- will be responsible for them before God? No, that's foolish."
- This creature was actually getting ready to answer for the people
- before God! And he continued with the same calm audacity:
- "The king can do everything. And what can a president do? Nothing.
- Do you understand, Wondergood--_Nothing!_ Why, then, do you want a
- president who can do nothing?"--he deigned to twist his lower lip into
- a sarcastic smile.--"It is all nonsense, invented by the newspapers.
- Would you, for example, take your president seriously, Mr. Wondergood?"
- "But representative government...."
- "Fi! Excuse me, Mr. Wondergood (he recalled my name with
- great difficulty) but what fool will pay any attention to the
- representatives of the people? Citizen A will pay heed to Citizen B
- and Citizen B will pay heed to Citizen A--is that not so? But who will
- compel their obedience if both of them are wise? No, I, too, have
- studied logic, Mr. Wondergood and you will permit me to indulge in a
- laugh!"
- He laughed slightly and said with his usual gesture:
- "Continue, Marquis.... No, let me do it. The King can do
- _everything_, Wondergood, you understand?"
- "But the law...."
- "Ah, this fellow, too, speaks of law. Do you hear, Marquis? No, I
- really can't understand what you want this law for! That all may
- suffer equitably! However, if you are so keen on having law, law you
- shall have. But who will give it to you, if not I?"
- "But the representatives of the people...."
- The king directed his colorless eyes upon me, almost in despair:
- "Ah, again citizen A and B! But can't you understand, dear Wondergood?
- What kind of a law is it if they themselves make it? What wise man
- will agree to obey it? No, that's nonsense. Is it possible that you
- yourself obey this law, Wondergood?"
- "Not only I, Your Majesty, but the whole of America...."
- His eyes measured me with sympathy.
- "Pardon me, but I don't believe it. The whole of America! Well, in
- that case they simply don't understand what law is--do you hear,
- Marquis, the whole of America! But that's not the thing. I must
- return, Wondergood. You've heard what the poor devils write?"
- "I am happy to see that the road is open for you, my lord."
- "Open? You think so? Hm! No, I need money. Some write and others
- don't, you understand?"
- "Perhaps they don't know how to write, my lord?"
- "They? Oh! You should have seen what they wrote against me. I was
- quite flustered. What they need is the firing squad."
- "All of them?"
- "Why all of them? Some of them will be enough. The rest of them will
- simply be scared to death. You understand, Wondergood, they have
- simply stolen my power from me and now, of course, will simply refuse
- to return it. You can't expect me to see to it that no one robs me.
- And these gentlemen,"--he indicated the blushing Marquis--"to my
- sorrow did not manage to guard my interests."
- The Marquis mumbled confusedly:
- "Sire!"
- "Now, now, I know your devotion, but you were asleep at the switch
- just the same? And now there is so much trouble, so much trouble!"--he
- sighed lightly. "Did not Cardinal X. tell you I needed money,
- Mr. Wondergood? He promised to. Of course I will return it all
- and...however, you should take this matter up with the Marquis. I have
- heard that you love people very much, Mr. Wondergood?"
- A faint smile flitted over the dim face of Magnus. I bowed slightly.
- "The Cardinal told me so. That is very praiseworthy, Mr. Wondergood.
- But if you do love people you will certainly give me money. I don't
- doubt that in the least. They must have a king. The newspapers are
- merely prattling nonsense. Why do they have a king in Germany, a king
- in England, a king in Italy, and a hundred other kings? And don't we
- need a king too?"
- The adjutant mumbled:
- "A misunderstanding...."
- "Of course a misunderstanding. The Marquis is quite right. The
- newspapers call it a revolution, but believe me, I know my people; it
- is simply a misunderstanding. They are now weeping themselves. How can
- they get along without a king? There would be no kings at all then.
- You understand? What nonsense! They now talk of no God, too. No, we
- must do a little shooting, a little shooting!"
- He rose quickly and this time shook my hand with a patronizing smile
- and bowed to Magnus.
- "Good-by, good-by, my dear Wondergood. You have a magnificent
- figure.... Oh, what a splendid fellow! The Marquis will drop in to
- see you one of these days. There was something more I wanted to say.
- Oh, yes: I hope that you in America will have a king, too, in the near
- future...that is very essential, my friend. Moreover, that's bound
- to be the end! Au revoir!"
- We escorted His Majesty with the same ceremony. The Marquis followed
- and his bowed head, divided into two halves by the part in his reddish
- hair, and his red face bore the expression of hunger and constant
- failure.... Ah, he has so frequently and so fruitlessly orated about
- that 'misunderstanding'! The King, apparently, also recalled at that
- moment his vain knocking about at other thresholds: his bloodless face
- again filled with grayish ennui and in reply to my parting bow, he
- opened wide his eyes, as if in astonishment, with the expression: what
- more does this fool want? Ah, yes, he has money. And lazily he asked:
- "And so, you'll not forget, Mr....friend!" And his automobile was
- magnificent and just as magnificent was the huge chauffeur, resembling
- a gendarme, attired for the new rôle. When we had reascended the
- stairs (our respectful lackeys meanwhile gazing upon me as on a royal
- personage) and entered our apartments, Magnus fell into a long, ironic
- silence. I asked:
- "How old is this creature?"
- "Didn't you know, Wondergood? That's bad. He is 32 years old. Perhaps
- less."
- "Did the Cardinal really speak of him and ask you to give him money?"
- "Yes,--from what you may have left after the Cardinal's wants are
- attended to."
- "That is probably due to the fact that the monarchist form of
- government is also in vogue in heaven. Can you conceive of a republic
- of saints and the administration of the world on the basis of popular
- representation? Think of it: even devils will then receive the vote. A
- King is most necessary, Wondergood. Believe me."
- "Nonsense! This is not worthy even of a jest."
- "I am not jesting. You are mistaken. And pardon me for being so
- direct, my friend: in his discussion about kings _he_ was above you,
- this time. You saw only a creature, a countenance of purely material
- limitations and ridiculous. _He_ conceived himself to be a symbol.
- That is why he is so calm and there is no doubt that he will return to
- his beloved people."
- "And will do a little shooting."
- "And will do a little shooting. And will throw a little scare into
- them. Ah, Wondergood, how stubborn you are in your refusal to part
- with the multiplication table! Your republic is a simple table, while
- a king--do you realize it?--is a _miracle_! What can there be simpler,
- sillier and more hopeless than a million bearded men, governing
- themselves,--and how wonderful, how miraculous when this million of
- bearded fellows are governed by a creature! That is a miracle! And
- what possibilities it gives rise to! It seemed very funny to me when
- you spoke with so much warmth about the law, this dream of the devil.
- A king is necessary for the precise purpose of _breaking_ the law, in
- order that the _will_ may be _above_ the law!"
- "But laws change, Magnus."
- "To change is only to submit to necessity and to new law, which was
- unknown to you before. Only by breaking the law do you elevate the
- _will_. Prove to me that God himself is subject to his own laws, i.e.,
- to put it simply, that he cannot perform miracles, and to-morrow your
- shaven monkey will share the fate of loneliness and all the churches
- will be turned into horse stables. The miracle, Wondergood, the
- miracle--that is what holds human beings on this cursed earth!"
- Magnus emphasized these words by banging the table with his fist. His
- face was gloomy. In his dark eyes there flickered unusual excitement.
- Speaking as if he were threatening some one, he continued:
- "_He_ believes in miracles and I envy him. He is insignificant, he is
- really what you might call a creature, but he believes in miracles.
- And he has already been a king and will be a king again! And we!..."
- He waved his hand contemptuously and began to pace the carpet like an
- angry captain on the deck of _his_ vessel. With much respect I gazed
- upon his heavy, explosive head and blazing eyes: for the first time I
- realized what _Satanic_ ambitions there were concealed in this strange
- gentlemen. "And we!" Magnus noticed my gaze and shouted angrily:
- "Why do you look at me like that, Wondergood? It's silly! You are
- thinking of my ambition? That's foolish, Wondergood! Would not _you_,
- a gentleman of Illinois, also like to be...well, at least, Emperor
- of _Russia_, where the _will_ is still above the law?"
- "And on what particular throne have you your eye, Magnus?" I replied,
- no longer concealing my irony.
- "If you are pleased to think of me so flatteringly, Wondergood, I will
- tell you that I _aim_ much higher. Nonsense, my friend! Only bloodless
- moralists have never dreamt of a crown, just as only eunuchs have
- never tempted themselves with the thought of woman. Nonsense! But I do
- not seek a throne--not even the Russian throne: it is too cramping."
- "But there is another throne, Signor Magnus: the throne of God."
- "But why only the throne of God? And have you forgotten Satan's, Mr.
- Wondergood?"
- And this he said to Me...or did the whole street know that my throne
- was vacant? I bowed my head respectfully and said:
- "Permit me to be the first to greet you...Your Majesty."
- Magnus turned on me in wild wrath, gnashing his teeth, like a dog over
- a contested bone. And this angry atom wants to be Satan! This handful
- of earth, hardly enough for one whiff for the Devil, is dreaming to
- be crowned with my crown! I bowed my head still lower and dropped
- my eyes: I felt the gleaming flame of contempt and divine laughter
- blazing forth within them. I realized that it must not be given to
- my honored ward to know this _laughter_. I do not know how long we
- remained silent, but when our eyes met again they were clear, pure and
- innocent, like two bright rays in the shade. Magnus was the first to
- speak:
- "And so?" he said.
- "And so?" I replied.
- "Will you order money for the king?"
- "The money is at your disposal, my dear friend."
- Magnus looked at me thoughtfully.
- "It's not worth while," he decided. "This miracle is old stuff. It
- requires too many police to compel belief. We shall perform a better
- miracle."
- "Oh, undoubtedly. We shall contrive a better device. In two weeks?"
- "Yes, about that!" replied Magnus cordially.
- We shook hands warmly in parting and in about two hours the gracious
- king sent each of us a decoration: some sort of a star for me and
- something else for Magnus. I rather pitied the poor idiot who
- continued to play his lone hand.
- April 16, Rome.
- Maria is somewhat indisposed and I hardly see her. Magnus informed me
- of her illness--and lied about it: for some reason he does not want me
- to see her. Does he fear anything?
- Again Cardinal X. called on him in my absence. Nothing is being said
- to me about the "miracle."
- But I am patient,--and I wait. At first this was rather boresome but
- recently I have found a new pastime and now I am quite content. It is
- the Roman museums, where I spend my mornings, like a conscientious
- American who has just learned to distinguish between a painting
- and a piece of sculpture. But I have no Baedecker with me and I am
- strangely happy that I don't understand a thing about it all: marble
- and painting. I merely like it.
- I like the odor of the sea in the museums. Why the sea?--I do not
- know: the sea is far away and I rather expected the odor of decay.
- And it is so spacious here--much more spacious than the Campagna. In
- the Campagna I see only space, over which run trains and automobiles.
- Here I swim in time. There is so much time here! Then, too, I rather
- like the fact that here they preserve with great care a chip of a
- marble foot or a stony sole with a bit of the heel. Like an ass from
- Illinois, I simply cannot understand what value there is in this, but
- I already believe that it is valuable and I am touched by your careful
- thrift, little man! Preserve it! Go on breaking the feet of live men.
- That is nothing. But these you must preserve. It is good, indeed, when
- living, dying, ever changing men, for the space of 2000 years, take
- such good care of a chip of marble foot.
- When I enter the narrow museum from the Roman street, where every
- stone is drowned in the light of the April sun, its transparent and
- even shadow seems to me a peculiar light, more durable than the
- expensive rays of the sun. As far as I _recollect_ it is thus that
- eternity doth shine. And these marbles! They have swallowed as much
- sunlight as an Englishman whiskey before they were driven into this
- place that they do not fear night at all.... And I, too, do not fear
- the night when I am near them. Take care of them, man!
- If _this_ is what you call art, what an ass you are, Wondergood. Of
- course, you are cultured, you look upon art with reverence as upon
- religion and you have understood as much of it as that ass did on
- which the Messiah entered Jerusalem. And what if there should be a
- fire? Yesterday this thought troubled me all day and I went with it to
- Magnus. But he seems extremely occupied with something and could not,
- at first, understand what I was driving at.
- "What's the trouble, Wondergood? You want to insure the Vatican--or
- something else? Make it clearer?"
- "Oh! to insure!" I exclaimed in anger: "you are a barbarian, Thomas
- Magnus!"
- At last he understood. Smiling cordially, he stretched, yawned and
- laid some paper before me.
- "You really are a gentleman from Mars, dear Wondergood. Don't
- contradict, and sign this paper. It is the last one."
- "I will sign, but under one condition. Your explosion must not touch
- the Vatican."
- He laughed again:
- "Would you be sorry? Then you had better not sign. In general, if you
- are sorry about anything--about anything at all--it would be better
- for us to part before it is too late. There is no room for pity in my
- game and my play is not for sentimental American girls."
- "If you please...." I signed the paper and threw it aside. "But it
- seems as if you have earnestly entered upon the duties of Satan, dear
- Magnus!"
- "And does Satan have duties? Poor Satan! Then I don't want to be
- Satan!"
- "Neither duties nor obligations?"
- "Neither duties nor obligations."
- "And what then?"
- He glanced at me quickly with his gleaming eyes and replied with one
- short word, which cut the air before my face:
- "_Will._"
- "And...the current of high pressure?"
- Magnus smiled patronizingly:
- "I am very glad that you remember my words so well, Wondergood. They
- may be of use to you some day."
- Cursed dog. I felt so much like striking him that I--bowed
- particularly low and politely. But he restrained me with a gracious
- gesture, pointing to a chair:
- "Where are you going, Wondergood? Sit down. We have seen so little of
- each other of late. How is your health?"
- "Fine, thank you. And how is the health of Signorina Maria?"
- "Not particularly good. But it's a trifle. A few more days of waiting
- and you.... So you like the museums, Wondergood? There was a time
- when I, too, gave them much time and feeling. Yes, I remember, I
- remember.... Don't you find, Wondergood, that man, in mass, is a
- repulsive being?"
- I raised my eyes in astonishment:
- "I do not quite understand this change of subject, Magnus. On the
- contrary, the museums have revealed to me a new and more attractive
- side of man...."
- He laughed.
- "Love for mankind?... Well, well, do not take offense at the
- jest, Wondergood. You see: everything that man does in crayon is
- wonderful--but repulsive in painting. Take the sketch of Christianity,
- with its sermon on the Mount, its lilies and its ears of corn, how
- marvelous it is! And how ugly is its picture with its sextons, its
- funeral pyres and its Cardinal X.! A genius begins the work and an
- idiot, an animal, completes it. The pure and fresh wave of the ocean
- tide strikes the dirty shore--and returns dirty, bearing back with
- it corks and shells. The beginning of love, the beginning of the
- Roman Empire and the great revolution--how good are all beginnings!
- And their end? And even if a man here and there has managed to die
- as beautifully as he was born, the masses, the masses, Wondergood,
- invariably end the liturgy in shamelessness!"
- "Oh, but what about the causes, Magnus?"
- "The causes? Apparently we find concealed here the very _substance_
- of man, of animal, evil and limited in the mass, inclined to madness,
- easily inoculated with all sorts of disease and crowning the widest
- possible road with a standstill. And that is why Art is so much above
- Man!"
- "I do not understand."
- "_What_ is there incomprehensible about it? In art it is the genius
- who begins and the genius completes. You understand: the genius! the
- fool, the imitator or the critic is quite powerless to change or mar
- the paintings of Velasquez, the sculpture of Angelo or the verse of
- Homer. He can destroy, smash, break, burn or deface, but he is quite
- powerless to bring them down to his own level--and that is why he so
- detests real art. You understand, Wondergood? His paw is helpless!"
- Magnus waved his white hand and laughed.
- "But why does he guard and protect it so assiduously?"
- "It is not _he_ who guards and protects. This is done by a special
- species of _faithful watchmen_"--Magnus laughed again: "and did you
- observe how uncomfortable they feel in the museum?"
- "Who--they?"
- "Well, those who came to view the things! But the most ridiculous
- phase of the whole business is not that the fool is a fool but that
- the genius unswervedly worships the fool as a neighbor and fellow
- being and anxiously seeks his devastating love. As if he were a savage
- himself, the genius does not understand that _his_ true neighbor is a
- genius similar to himself and he is eternally opening his embraces to
- the near--human...who eagerly crawls into them in order to abstract
- the watch from his vest pocket! Yes, my dear Wondergood, it is a most
- laughable point and I fear...."
- He lapsed into thought, fixing his eyes upon the floor: thus
- apparently do human beings gaze into the depths of their own graves.
- And I understood just what this genius feared, and once again I bowed
- before the Satanic mind which in all the world recognized only itself
- and its own will. Here was a god who would not share his power with
- Olympus! And what a contempt for mankind! And what open contempt for
- me! Here was a grain of earth that could make the devil himself sneeze!
- And do you know how I concluded that evening? I took my pious Toppi by
- the neck and threatened to shoot him if he did not get drunk with me.
- And drunk we did get! We began in some dirty little café and continued
- in some night taverns where I generously filled some black-eyed
- bandits with liquor, mandolin players and singers, who sang to me
- of Maria: I drank like a farm hand who had just arrived in the city
- after a year of sober labor. Away with the museums! I remember that
- I shouted much and waved my hands--but never did I love my _Maria_
- so tenderly, so sweetly and so painfully as in that smoke of drink,
- permeated with the odor of wine, oranges and some burning fat, in this
- wide circle of black bearded stealthy faces and rapaciously gleaming
- eyes, amid the melodious strains of mandolins which opened for me the
- very vestibules of heaven and hell!
- I vaguely remember some very accommodating but pompous murderers, whom
- I kissed and forgave in the name of Maria. I remember that I proposed
- that all of us go to drink in the Coliseum, in the very place where
- martyrs used to die but I do not know why we did not do it--I believe
- there were technical difficulties. And how splendid Toppi was! At
- first he drank long and silently, like an archbishop. Then he suddenly
- began to perform interesting feats. He put a bottle of Chianti on
- his nose, the wine running all over him. He tried to perform some
- tricks with cards but was immediately caught by the affable bandits
- who brilliantly repeated the same trick. He walked on all fours and
- sang some religious verses through his nose. He cried and suddenly
- announced frankly that he was a devil.
- We walked home staggering along the street, bumping into walls and
- lampposts and hilariously enjoying ourselves like two students. Toppi
- tried to pick a quarrel with some policemen, but, touched by their
- politeness, he ended by conferring his stern blessing upon them,
- saying gloomily:
- "Go and sin no more."
- Then he confessed with tears that he was in love with a certain
- signorina, that his love was requited and that he must therefore
- resign his spiritual calling. Saying this, he lay down upon a stony
- threshold and fell into a stubborn sleep. And thus I left him.
- Maria, Maria, how you tempt me! Not once have I touched your lips.
- Yesterday I kissed only red wine...but whence come these burning
- traces on my lips? But yesterday I stood upon my knees, Madonna, and
- covered you with flowers: but yesterday I timidly laid hands upon
- the hem of your garment, and to-day you are only a woman and I want
- you. My hands are trembling. The obstacles, the halls, the paces and
- the thresholds separating us drive me mad. I want you! I did not
- recognize my own eyes in the mirror: there is a thick shadow upon
- them. I breathe heavily and irregularly, and all day long my thoughts
- are wandering lustfully about your naked breast. I have forgotten
- everything.
- In whose power am I? It bends me like soft, heated iron. I am
- deafened, I am blinded by my own heat and sparks. What do you do,
- man, when _that_ happens to you? Do you simply go and take the woman?
- Do you violate her? Think: it is night now and Maria is so close by.
- I can approach her room without a sound...and I want to hear her
- cries! But suppose Magnus bars the road for me? I will kill Magnus.
- Nonsense.
- No, tell me, in whose power am I? You ought to know that man? To-day,
- just before evening, as I was seeking to escape from myself and Maria,
- I wandered about the streets, but it was worse there: everywhere I
- saw men and women, men and women. As if I had never seen them before!
- They all appeared naked to me. I stood long at Monte-Picio and tried
- to grasp what a sunset was but could not: before me there passed by in
- endless procession those men and women, gazing into each other's eyes.
- Tell me--what is Woman? I saw one--very beautiful--in an automobile.
- The sunset threw a rosy glow upon her pale face and in her ears there
- glistened two diamond sparks. She gazed upon the sunset and the sunset
- gazed on her, but I could not endure it: sorrow and love gripped my
- heart, as if I were dying. There behind her were trees, green, almost
- black.
- Maria! Maria!
- April 19, Isle of Capri.
- Perfect calm reigned upon the sea. From a high precipice I gazed long
- upon a little schooner, motionless in the blue expanse. Its white
- sails were rigidly still and it seemed as happy as on that memorable
- day. And, again, great calm descended upon me, while the holy name of
- _Maria_ resounded purely and peacefully, like the Sabbath bells on the
- distant shore.
- There I lay upon the grass, my face toward the sky. The good earth
- warmed my back, while my eyes were pierced with warm light, as if
- I had thrust my face into the sun. Not more than three paces away
- there lay an abyss, a steep precipice, a dizzying wall, and it was
- delightful to imbibe the odor of grass and the Spring flowers of
- Capri. There was also the odor of Toppi, who was lying beside me:
- when he is heated by the sun he emits the smell of fur. He was all
- sunburned, just as if he had been smeared with coal. In general, he is
- a very amiable old Devil.
- The place where we lay is called Anacapri and constitutes the elevated
- part of the island. The sun had already set when we began our trip
- downward and a half moon had risen in the sky. But there was the same
- quiet and warmth and from somewhere came the strains of mandolins in
- love, calling to Maria. Maria everywhere! But my love breathed with
- great calm, bathed in the pure moonlight rays, like the little white
- houses below. In such a house, at one time, did Maria live, and into
- just such a house I will take her in about four days.
- A high wall along which the road ran, concealed the moon from us and
- here we beheld the statue of an old Madonna, standing in a niche,
- high above the road and the surrounding bushes. Before her burned
- with a weak flame the light of an image-lamp, and she seemed so alive
- in her watchful silence that my heart grew cold with sweet terror.
- Toppi bowed his head and mumbled a prayer, while I removed my hat and
- thought:
- How high above this earthly vessel, filled with moonlit twilight and
- mysterious charms, you stand. Thus does _Maria_ stand above my soul....
- Enough! Here again the extraordinary begins and I must pause. We
- shall soon drink some champagne and then we shall go to the café. I
- understand they expect some mandolin players from Naples there to-day.
- Toppi would rather be shot than follow me: his conscience troubles him
- to this day. But it is good that I will be alone.
- April 23--Rome,
- Palazzo Orsini.
- ...Night. My palace is dead and silent, as if it were one of the
- ruins of ancient Rome. Beyond the large window lies the garden: it
- is transparent and white with the rays of the moon and the vaporous
- pole of the fountain resembles a headless vision in a silver veil. Its
- splash is scarcely heard through the thick window-pane--as if it were
- the sleepy mumbling of the night guard.
- Yes, this is all beautiful and...how do you put it?--it breathes
- with love. Of course, it would be good to walk beside Maria over the
- blue sand of the garden path and to trample upon her shadow. But I
- am disturbed and my disquiet is wider than love. In my attempts to
- walk lightly I wander about the room, lean against the wall, recline
- in silence in the corners, and all the time I seem to hear something.
- Something far away, a thousand kilometers from here. Or is this all
- lodged in my memory--that which I strain my ear to catch? And the
- thousand kilometers--are they the thousand years of my life?
- You would be astonished if you saw how I was dressed. My fine
- American costume had suddenly become unbearably heavy, so I put on
- my bathing suit. This made me appear thin, tall and wiry. I tried to
- test my nimbleness by crawling about the floor, suddenly changing the
- direction, like a noiseless bat. But it is not I who am restless. It
- is my muscles that are filled with this unrest, and I know not what
- they want. Then I began to feel cold. I dressed and sat down to write.
- I drank some wine and drew down the curtains to shut the white garden
- from my eyes. Then I examined and fixed my Browning. I intend to take
- it with me to-morrow for a friendly chat with Magnus.
- You see, Thomas Magnus has some _collaborators_. That is what he calls
- those gentlemen unknown to me who respectfully get out of my way when
- we meet, but never greet me, as if we were meeting in the street and
- not in my house. There were two of them when I went to Capri. Now they
- are six, according to what Toppi tells me, and they live here. Toppi
- does not like them. Neither do I. They seem to have no _faces_. I
- could not see them. I happened to think of that just now when I tried
- to recall them.
- "These are my assistants," Magnus told me to-day without trying in the
- least to conceal his ridicule.
- "Well, I must say, Magnus, they have had bad training. They never
- greet me when we meet."
- "On the contrary, dear Wondergood! They are very well-mannered.
- They simply cannot bring themselves to greet you without a proper
- introduction. They are...extremely correct people. However, you will
- learn all to-morrow. Don't frown. Be patient, Wondergood! Just one
- more night!"
- "How is Signorina Maria's health?"
- "_To-morrow_ she will be well." He placed his hand upon my shoulder
- and brought his dark, evil, brazen eyes closer to my face: "The
- passion of love, eh?"
- I shook off his hand and shouted:
- "Signor Magnus! I...."
- "You?"--he frowned at me and calmly turned his back upon me: "Till
- to-morrow, Mr. Wondergood!"
- That is why I loaded my revolver. In the evening I was handed a letter
- from Magnus: he begged my pardon, said his conduct was due to unusual
- excitement and he sincerely sought my friendship and confidence. He
- also agreed that his _collaborators_ are really ill-mannered folk. I
- gazed long upon these hasty illegible lines and felt like taking with
- me, not my revolver, but a cannon.
- One more night, but how long it is!
- _There is danger facing me._
- I feel it and my muscles _know_ it, too. Do you think that I am merely
- afraid? I swear by eternal salvation--no! I know not where my fear has
- disappeared, but only a short while ago I was afraid of everything:
- of darkness, death and the most inconsequential pain. And now I fear
- nothing. I only feel strange...is that how you put it: strange?
- Here I am on your earth, man, and I am thinking of another person who
- is dangerous to me and I myself am--man. And there is the moon and
- the fountain. And there is Maria, whom I love. And here is a glass
- and wine. And this is--my and your life. Or did I simply imagine that
- I was Satan once? I see _it_ is all an invention, the fountain and
- Maria and my very thoughts on the man--Magnus, but the _real_ my mind
- can neither unravel nor understand. I assiduously examine my memory
- and it is silent, like a closed book, and I have no power to open this
- enchanted volume, concealing the whole past of my being. Straining my
- eyesight, I gaze into the bright and distant depth from which I came
- upon this pasteboard earth--but I see nothing in the painful ebb and
- flow of the boundless fog. There, behind the fog, is my country, but
- it seems--it seems I have quite forgotten the road.
- I have again returned to Wondergood's bad habit of getting drunk alone
- and I am slightly drunk now. No matter. It is the last time. I have
- just seen something after which I wish to see nothing else. I felt
- like taking a look at the white garden and to imagine how it would
- feel to walk beside Maria over the path of blue sand. I turned off the
- light in the room and opened wide the draperies. And the white garden
- arose before me, like a dream, and--think of it!--over the path of
- blue sand there walked a man and a woman--and the woman was Maria!
- They walked quietly, trampling upon their own shadows, and the man
- embraced her. The little counting machine in my breast beat madly,
- fell to the floor and broke, when, finally, I recognized the man--it
- was Magnus, only Magnus, dear Magnus, the father. May he be cursed
- with his fatherly embraces!
- Ah, how my love for _Maria_ surged up again within me! I fell on my
- knees before the window and stretched out my hands to her.... To be
- sure, I had already seen something of that kind in the theater, but
- it's all the same to me: I stretched out my hands--was I not alone and
- drunk! Why should I not do what I want to do? Madonna! Then I suddenly
- drew down the curtain!
- Quietly, like a web, like a handful of moonlight, I will take this
- vision and weave it into night dreams. Quietly!... Quietly!...
- IV
- May 25, 1914.--Italy.
- Had I at my disposal, not the pitiful word but a strong orchestra,
- I would compel all the brass trumpets to roar. I would raise their
- blazing mouths to the sky and would compel them to rave incessantly in
- a blazen, screeching voice which would make one's hair stand on end
- and scatter the clouds in terror. I do not want the lying violins.
- Hateful to me is the gentle murmur of false strings beneath the
- fingers of liars and scoundrels. Breath! Breath! My gullet is like a
- brass horn. My breath--a hurricane, driving forward into every narrow
- cleft. And all of me rings, kicks and grates like a heap of iron in
- the face of the wind. Oh, it is not always the mighty, wrathful roar
- of brass trumpets. Frequently, very frequently it is the pitiful wail
- of burned, rusty iron, crawling along lonely, like the winter, the
- whistle of bent twigs, which drives thought cold and fills the heart
- with the rust of gloom and homelessness. Everything that fire can
- touch has burned up within me. Was it I who wanted to play? Was it I
- who yearned for the game? Then--look upon this monstrous ruin of the
- theater wrecked by the flames: all the actors, too, have lost their
- lives therein.. ah, all the actors, too, have perished, and brazen
- Truth peers now through the beggarly holes of its empty windows.
- By my throne,--what was that love I prattled of when I donned
- this human form? To whom was it that I opened my embraces? Was it
- you...comrade? By my throne!--if I was Love but _for a single moment_,
- henceforth I am Hate and _eternally_ thus I remain.
- Let us halt at this point to-day, dear comrade. It has been quite
- some time since I moved my pen upon this paper and I must now grow
- accustomed anew to your dull and shallow face, smeared o'er with the
- red of your cheeks. I seem to have forgotten how to speak the language
- of respectable people who have just received a trouncing. Get thee
- hence, my friend. To-day I am a brass trumpet. Tickle not my throat,
- little worm. Leave me.
- May 26, Italy.
- It was a month ago that Thomas Magnus _blew_ me up. Yes, it is true.
- He really blew me up and it was a month ago, in the holy City of Rome,
- in the Palazzo Orsini, when I still belonged to the billionaire Henry
- Wondergood--do you remember that genial American, with his cigar and
- patent gold teeth? Alas! He is no longer with us. He died suddenly and
- you will do well if you order a requiem mass for him: his Illinois
- soul is in need of your prayers.
- Let us return, however, to his last hours. I shall try to be exact in
- My recollections and give you not only the emotions but also the words
- of that evening--it was evening, when the moon was shining brightly.
- Perhaps I shall not give you quite the words spoken but, at any rate,
- they will be the words I heard and stored away in my memory.... If you
- were ever whipped, worthy comrade, then you know how difficult it was
- for you to count all the blows of the whip. A change of gravity! You
- understand? Oh, you understand everything. And so let us receive the
- last breath of Henry Wondergood, blown up by the culprit Thomas Magnus
- and buried by..._Maria_.
- I remember: I awoke on the morning after that _stormy_ evening, calm
- and even gay. Apparently it was the effect of the sun, shining into
- that same, broad window through which, at night, there streamed that
- unwelcome and too highly significant moonlight. You understand:
- now the moon and now the sun? Oh, you understand everything. It is
- probably for the very same reason I acquired my touching faith in the
- integrity of Magnus and awaited toward evening that cloudless bliss.
- This expectation was all the greater because his collaborators...you
- remember his collaborators?--had begun to _greet_ and _bow_ to me.
- What is a greeting?--ah, how much it means to the faith of man!
- You know my good manners and, therefore, will believe me when I say
- that I was cold and restrained like a gentleman who has just received
- a legacy. But if you had put your ear to my belly you would have heard
- violins playing within. Something about love, you understand. Oh,
- you understand everything. And thus, with these violins did I come
- to Magnus in the evening when the moon was shining brightly. Magnus
- was alone. We were long silent and this indicated that an interesting
- conversation awaited me. Finally I said:
- "How is the Signorina's health?"...
- But he interrupted me:
- "We are facing a very difficult talk, Wondergood? Does that disturb
- you?"
- "Oh, no, not at all."
- "Do you want wine? Well, never mind. I shall drink a little but you
- need not. Yes, Wondergood?"
- He laughed as he poured out the wine and here I noticed with
- astonishment that he himself was _very_ excited: his large, white,
- hangman's hands were quite noticeably trembling. I do not know exactly
- just when my violins ceased--I think it was at that very moment.
- Magnus gulped down two glasses of wine--he had intended to take only a
- little--and, sitting down, continued:
- "No, you ought not to drink, Wondergood. I need all your _senses_,
- undimmed by anything...you didn't drink anything to-day? No? That's
- good. Your _senses_ must be clear and sober. One must not take
- anesthetics in such cases as...as...."
- "As vivisection?"
- He shook his head seriously in affirmation.
- "Yes, vivisection. You have caught my idea marvelously. Yes, in cases
- of vivisection of the soul. For instance, when a loving mother is
- informed of the death of her son or...a rich man that he has become
- penniless. But the senses, what can we do with the senses, we cannot
- hold them in leash all our life! You understand, Wondergood? In the
- long run, I am not in the least so cruel a man as I occasionally seem
- even to myself and the _pain_ of others frequently arouses in me an
- unpleasant, responsive trembling. That is not good. A surgeon's hand
- must be firm."
- He looked at his fingers: they no longer trembled. He continued with a
- smile:
- "However, wine helps some. Dear Wondergood, I swear by eternal
- salvation, by which you love so to swear, that it is extremely
- unpleasant for me to cause you this little...pain. Keep your senses,
- Wondergood! Your senses, your senses! Your hand, my friend?"
- I gave him my hand and Magnus enveloped my palm and fingers and held
- them long in his own paw, strained, permeated with some kind of
- electric currents. Then he let them go, sighing with relief.
- "That's it. Just so. Courage, Wondergood!"
- I shrugged my shoulders, lit a cigar and asked:
- "Your illustration of the _very_ wealthy man who has suddenly become a
- beggar,--does that concern me? Am I penniless?"
- Magnus answered slowly as he gazed straight into my eyes:
- "If you wish to put it that way--yes. You have nothing left.
- Absolutely nothing. And this palace, too, is already sold. To-morrow
- the new owners take possession."
- "Oh, that is interesting. And where are my billions?"
- "I have them. They are mine. I am a very wealthy man, Wondergood."
- I moved my cigar to the other corner of my mouth and asked:
- "And you are ready, of course, to give me a helping hand? You are a
- contemptible scoundrel, Thomas Magnus."
- "If that's what you call me--yes. Something on that order."
- "And a liar!"
- "Perhaps. In general, dear Wondergood, it is very necessary for you to
- change your outlook on life and man. You are too much of an idealist."
- "And you"--I rose from my chair--"for you it is necessary to change
- your fellow conversationalist. Permit me to bid you good-by and to
- send a police commissary in my place."
- Magnus laughed.
- "Nonsense, Wondergood! Everything has been done within the law. You,
- yourself, have handed over everything to me. This will surprise no
- one...with your love for humanity. Of course, you can proclaim
- yourself insane. You understand?--and then, perhaps, I may get to the
- penitentiary. But you--you will land in an insane asylum. You would
- hardly like that, dear friend. Police! Well, go on talking. It will
- relieve the first effects of the blow."
- I think it was really difficult for me to conceal my excitement. I
- hurled my cigar angrily into the fireplace, while my eye carefully
- measured both the window and Magnus...no, this carcass was too big
- to play ball with.
- At that moment the loss of my wealth had not yet fully impressed
- itself upon my mind and it was that which maddened me as much as the
- brazen tone of Magnus and the patronizing manner of the old scoundrel.
- In addition, I dimly sensed something portentous of evil and sorrow,
- like a threat: as if some real danger were lurking not in front of me
- but behind my back.
- "What is this all about?" I shouted, stamping my foot.
- "What is this all about?" replied Magnus, like an echo. "Yes, I
- really cannot understand why you are so excited, Wondergood. You
- have so frequently offered me this money and even forced it upon me
- and now, when the money is in my hands, you want to call the police!
- Of course," Magnus smiled--"there is a slight distinction here: in
- placing your money so magnanimously at my _disposal_, you still
- remained its master and the master of the situation, while now...you
- understand, old friend: now I can simply drive you out of this house!"
- I looked at Magnus significantly. He replied with no less a
- significant shrug of the shoulders and cried angrily:
- "Stop your nonsense. I am stronger than you are. Do not try to be more
- of a fool than is absolutely necessitated by the situation."
- "You are an unusually brazen scoundrel, Signor Magnus!"
- "Again! How these sentimental souls do seek consolation in words! Take
- a cigar and listen to me. I have long needed money, a great deal of
- money. In my past, which I need not disclose to you, I have suffered
- certain...failures. They irritated me considerably. Fools and
- sentimental souls, you understand? My energy was imprisoned under lock
- and key, like a bird in a cage. For three years I sat in this cursed
- cage, awaiting my chance...."
- "And all that--in the beautiful Campagna?"
- "Yes, in the beautiful Campagna...and I had already begun to lose
- hope, when you appeared. I find it difficult to express myself at this
- point...."
- "Be as direct as you can. Have no compunctions."
- "You seemed very strange with all this love of yours for men and your
- _play_, as you finally termed it, and, my friend, for a long time I
- had grave doubts as to what you really were: an extraordinary fool
- or just a scoundrel, like myself. You see, such extraordinary asses
- appear so seldom that even I had my doubts. You are not angry?"
- "Oh, not at all."
- "You forced money upon me and I thought: a trap! However you made your
- moves quickly and certain precautions on my part...."
- "Pardon me for interrupting. So, those books of yours, your solitary
- contemplation of life, that little white house and everything was all
- a lie? And murder--do you remember all that drivel about hands steeped
- in blood?"
- "Yes, I did kill. That is true. And I have pondered much upon life,
- while awaiting you, but the rest, of course, was falsehood. Very base
- falsehood, but you were so credulous...."
- "And.. Maria?"
- I confess that I had hardly uttered this name when I felt something
- clutching at my throat. Magnus looked at me sharply and said gloomily:
- "We will discuss Maria, too. But how excited you are! Even your nails
- have turned blue. Perhaps you'll have some wine? Well, never mind. Have
- patience. I shall continue. When you began your affair with Maria...of
- course with my slight assistance...I finally concluded that you
- were...."
- "An extraordinary ass?"
- Magnus raised his hand in a consoling gesture:
- "Oh, no! You seemed to me to be that at the beginning. I will tell you
- quite truthfully, as I do everything I am telling you now: you are not
- a fool at all, Wondergood. I have grown to know you more intimately. It
- doesn't matter that you have so naïvely surrendered your billions to
- me...many wise men have been fooled before by clever...scoundrels! Your
- misfortune is quite another thing."
- I had the strength to smile:
- "My love for human beings?"
- "No, my friend: your contempt for human beings! Your _contempt_ and
- at the same time your naïve faith in them arising from it. You regard
- human beings so far below you, you are so convinced of their fatal
- powerlessness that you do not fear them at all and are quite ready to
- pat the rattlesnake's head: such a nice little rattlesnake! One should
- fear people, comrade! I know your _game_, but at times you were quite
- sincere in your prattle about man, you even pitied him, but from an
- elevation or from a sidetrack--I know not which. Oh, if you could only
- hate people I would take you along with me with pleasure. But you are
- an egotist, a terrible egotist, Wondergood, and I am even beginning to
- shed my regrets for having robbed you, when I think of that! Whence
- comes this base contempt of yours?"
- "I am still only learning to be a man."
- "Well, go on learning. But why do you call your professor a scoundrel:
- For I am your professor, Wondergood!"
- "To the devil with this prattle. So...you do not intend to take me
- along with you?"
- "No, my friend, I do not."
- "So. Only my billions. Very well, but what about your plan: to blow
- up the earth or something of that kind? Or did you lie on this point,
- too? I cannot believe that you simply intend to open...a money
- changer's bureau or become some ragged king!"
- Magnus looked at me gloomily. There was even a gleam of sympathy in
- his eyes as he replied slowly:
- "No, on that point I did not lie. But you won't do for me. You would
- always be hanging on to my coat tails. Just now you shouted: liar,
- scoundrel, thief.... It's strange, but you are yet only learning to
- be a man and you have already imbibed so much pettiness. When I shall
- raise my hand to strike some one, your contempt will begin to whine:
- don't strike, leave him alone, have pity. Oh, if you could only hate!
- No, you are a terrible egotist, old man."
- I shouted:
- "The devil take you with your harping on this egotism! I am not in the
- least more stupid than you, you beast, and I cannot understand what
- you find so saintly in hatred!"
- Magnus frowned:
- "First of all: don't shout or I'll throw you out. Do you hear? Yes,
- perhaps you are no more stupid than I am, but man's business is
- not your business. Do you realize that, you beast? In blowing up
- things, I only intend to do business and you want to be the ruler
- of another's plant. Let them steal and break down the machinery and
- you--you will be concerned only about your salary and the respect
- due you? And I--I won't stand that! All this,"--he swept the room
- with a broad gesture--"is my plant, _mine_, do you hear, and it is I
- who will be robbed. I will be robbed and injured. And I hate those
- who rob me. What would you have done, in the long run, with your
- billions, if I had not taken them from you? Built conservatories and
- raised heirs--for the perpetuation of your kind? Private yachts and
- diamonds for your wife? And I...give me all the gold on earth and
- I will throw it all into the flames of my hatred. And all because I
- have been insulted! When you see a hunchback you throw him a lire. So
- that he may continue to bear his hump, yes? And I want to destroy
- him, to kill him, to burn him like a crooked log. To whom do you
- appeal when you are fooled or when a dog bites your finger? To your
- wife, the police, public opinion? But suppose the wife, with the aid
- of your butler, plants horns on your head or public opinion fails
- to understand you and instead of pitying you prefers to give you a
- thrashing--then do you make your appeal to God? But I, I go to no one.
- I plead before no one, but neither do I forgive. You understand? I
- do not forgive! Only egotists forgive! I consider myself personally
- insulted!"
- I heard him in silence. Perhaps it was because I was so close to the
- fireplace, gazing into the fire and listening to Magnus's words, each
- new word intermingled with a fresh blaze of a burning log; no sooner
- would the glowing red mass fall apart than the words, too, would break
- up into particles, like hot coals. My head was not at all clear and,
- under the influence of these burning, flaming, flying words I fell
- into a strange, dark drowsiness. But this was what my memory retained:
- "Oh, if you could only hate! If you were not so cowardly and weak of
- soul! I would take you with me and would let you behold a fire which
- would forever dry your miserable tears and burn your sentimental
- dreams to ashes! Do you hear the song of the fools of the world? They
- are merely loading the cannons. The wise man need only apply the fire
- to the fuse, you understand? Could you behold calmly the sight of a
- blissful sheep and hungry snake lying together, separated only by a
- thin partition? I could not! I would drill just a little opening, a
- little opening...the rest they would do themselves. Do you know that
- from the union of truth and falsehood comes an explosion? I want to
- unite. I shall do nothing myself: I shall only _complete_ what they
- have begun. Do you hear how merrily they sing? I will make them dance,
- too! Come with me, comrade! You sought some sort of a play--let me
- give you an extraordinary spectacle! We shall bring the whole earth
- into action and millions of marionettes will begin to caper obediently
- at our command: you know not yet how talented and obliging they
- are. It will be a splendid play and will give you much pleasure and
- amusement...."
- A large log fell apart and split into many sparks and hot cinders.
- The flame subsided, growing morose and red. A silent heat emanated
- from the dimmed, smoke-smeared hearth. It burned my face and suddenly
- there arose before me my puppets' show. The heat and fire had conjured
- up a mirage. I seemed to hear the crash of drums and the gay ring of
- cymbals, while the merry clown turned on his head at the sight of the
- broken skulls of the dolls. The broken heads continued to pile up.
- Then I saw the scrap heap, with two motionless little legs protruding
- from the heap of rubbish. They wore rose slippers. And the drums
- continued beating: tump-tump-tump. And I said pensively:
- "I think it will hurt them."
- And behind my back rang out the contemptuous and indifferent reply:
- "Quite possibly."
- "Tump-tump-tump...."
- "It is all the same to you, Wondergood, but I cannot! Can't you see:
- I cannot permit every miserable biped to call himself a man. There
- are too many of them, already. They multiply like rabbits, under the
- stimulus of physicians and laws. Death, deceived, cannot handle them
- all. It is confused and seems to have lost its dignity and moral
- authority. It is wasting its time in dancing halls. I hate them. It
- has become repulsive to me to walk upon this earth, fallen into the
- power of a strange, strange species. We must suspend the law, at least
- temporarily, and let death have its fling. However, they themselves
- will see to this. No, not I, but they, will do it. Think not that I am
- particularly cruel, no--I am only logical. I am only the conclusion,
- the symbol of equality, the sum total, the line beneath the column of
- figures. You may call it Ergo, Magnus, Ergo! They say: 'two and two'
- and I reply: 'four.' Exactly four. Imagine that the world has suddenly
- grown cold and immovable for a moment and you behold some such
- picture: here is a free and careless head and above it--a suspended
- axe. Here is a mass of powder and here a spark about to fall upon it.
- But it has stopped and does not fall. Here is a heavy structure, set
- upon a single, undermined foundation. But everything has grown rigid
- and the foundation holds. Here is a breast and here a hand aiming a
- bullet at it. Have I prepared all this? I merely touch the lever and
- press it down. The axe falls upon the laughing head and crushes it.
- The spark falls into the powder--all is off! The building crashes to
- the ground. The bullet pierces the ready breast. And I--I have merely
- touched the lever, I, Magnus Ergo! Think: would I be able to kill had
- I at my disposal only violins or other musical instruments?"
- I laughed:
- "Only violins!"
- Magnus replied with laughter: his voice was hoarse and heavy:
- "But they have other instruments, too! And I will use these
- instruments. See how simple and interesting all this is?"
- "And what further, Magnus Ergo?"
- "How do I know what's to follow? I see only _this_ page and solve only
- _this_ problem. I know not what the next page contains."
- "Perhaps it contains the same thing?"
- "Perhaps it does. And perhaps this is the final page...well, what of
- that: the sum total remains as is necessary."
- "You spoke on one occasion about _miracles_?"
- "Yes, that is my lever. You remember what I told you _about my_
- explosive? I promise rabbits to make lions of them.... You see, a
- rabbit cannot stand brains. Give a rabbit brains and he will hang
- himself. Melancholy will drive him to suicide. Brains implies logic
- and what can _logic_ promise to a rabbit? Nothing but a sorry fate
- on a restaurant menu. What one must promise a rabbit is either
- immortality for a cheap price, as does Cardinal X. or--heaven on
- earth. You will see what energy, what daring, etc., my rabbit will
- develop when I paint before him on the wall heavenly powers and
- gardens of Eden!"
- "On the wall?"
- "Yes,--on a stone wall. He will storm it with all the power of his
- species! And who knows...who knows...perhaps this mass may really
- break through this stone wall?"
- Magnus lapsed into thought. I drew away from the now extinguished
- fire and looked upon the explosive head of my repulsive friend....
- Something naïve, like two little wrinkles, almost like those of a
- child, lay upon his stony brow. I burst into laughter and shouted:
- "Thomas Magnus! Thomas Ergo! Do you believe?"
- Without raising his head, as if he had not heard my laughter, he
- lifted his eyes and replied pensively:
- "We must try."
- _But_ I continued to laugh: deep, wild--apparently human--laughing
- malice began to rise within me:
- "Thomas Magnus! Magnus Rabbit! Do you believe?"
- He thumped the table with his fist and roared in a wild transport:
- "Be quiet! I tell you: we must try. How do I know? I have never yet
- been on Mars nor seen this earth inside-out. Be silent, accursed
- egotist! You know nothing of our affairs. Ah, if only you could
- hate!..."
- "I hate already."
- Magnus suddenly laughed and grew strangely calm. He sat down and
- scrutinizing me from all possible angles, as if he did not believe me,
- he burst out:
- "You? Hate? Whom?"
- "You."
- He looked me over as carefully again and shook his head in doubt:
- "Is that true, Wondergood?"
- "If they are rabbits, you are the most repulsive of them all, because
- you are a mixture of rabbit and...Satan. You are a coward! The fact
- that you are a crook, a thief, a liar, a murderer is not important.
- But you are a coward! That is important. I expected something more of
- you. I hoped your mind would lift you above the greatest crime, but
- you lift crime itself into some base philanthropy. You are as much of
- a lackey as the others. The only difference between you and them is
- that you have a perverted idea of service!"
- Magnus sighed.
- "No, that's not it. You understand nothing, Wondergood."
- "And what you lack is daring, my friend. If you are Magnus Ergo...what
- audacity: Magnus Ergo!--then why don't you go the limit? Then, I, too,
- would follow you...perhaps!"
- "Will you really come?"
- "And why should I not come? Let me be Contempt, and you--Hatred. We
- can go together. Do not fear lest I hang on to your coat tails. You
- have revealed much to me, my dear putridity, and I shall not seize
- your hand even though you raise it against yourself."
- "Will you betray me?"
- "And you will kill me. Is that not enough?"
- But Magnus shook his head doubtfully and said:
- "You will betray me. I am a living human being, while you smell like
- a corpse. I do not want to have contempt for _myself_. If I do, I
- perish. Don't you dare to look at me! Look upon the others!"
- I laughed.
- "Very well. I shall not look at _you_. I will look at the rest. I will
- make it easier for you with my contempt."
- Magnus fell into prolonged thought. Then he looked again at me
- piercingly and quietly asked:
- "And Maria?..."
- Oh, cursed wretch! Again he hurled my heart upon the floor! I looked
- at him wildly, like one aroused at night by fire. And three big waves
- swept my breast. With the first wave rose the silent violins...ah,
- how they wailed, just as if the musician played not upon strings but
- upon my veins! Then in a huge wave with foamy surf there rolled by all
- the images, thoughts and emotions of my recent, beloved human state:
- think of it: everything was there! Even the lizzard that hissed at my
- feet that evening beneath the moonlight. I recalled even the little
- lizzard! And with the third wave there was rolled out quietly upon the
- shore the holy name: _Maria_. And just as quietly it receded, leaving
- behind a delicate lace of foam, and from beyond the sea burst forth
- the rays of the sun, and for a moment, for one, little moment, I again
- became a white schooner, with sails lowered. Where were the stars
- while awaiting the word of the Lord of the universe to break forth in
- all their brilliance? Madonna!
- Magnus recalled me quietly.
- "Where are you going? She is not there. What do you want?"
- "Pardon me, dear Magnus, but I would like to see the Signorina Maria.
- Only for a moment. I don't feel quite well. There is something
- revolving in my eyes and head. Are you smiling, dear Magnus, or does
- it only seem so to me? I have been gazing into the fire too long
- and I can hardly discern the objects before me. Did you say: Maria?
- Yes, I would like to see her. Then we shall continue our interesting
- conversation. You will remind me just where we stopped, but meanwhile
- I would be extremely obliged to you, if we were...to take a
- little drive into the Campagna. It is so sweet there. And Signorina
- Maria...."
- "Sit down. You will see her presently."
- But I continued to weave my nonsense--what in the devil had happened
- to my head! I prattled on for a considerable period and now the
- whole thing seems so ridiculous: Once or twice I pressed the heavy,
- motionless hand of Thomas Magnus: apparently he must have looked like
- my father at that moment. Finally, I subsided, partially regained my
- senses but, in obedience to Magnus' command, remained in my chair and
- prepared to listen.
- "Can you listen now? You are quite excited, old man. Remember: the
- senses, the Senses!"
- "Yes, now I can go on. I...remember everything. Continue, old
- friend. I am all attention."
- Yes, I recollected everything but it was quite immaterial to me just
- what Magnus said or what he might say: I was awaiting Maria. That is
- how strong my love was! Turning aside for some reason and beating
- time with his fingers on the table, Magnus said slowly and rather
- reluctantly:
- "Listen, Wondergood. In reality, it would be much more convenient
- for me to throw you out into the street, you and your idiotic Toppi.
- You wanted to experience _all_ human life and I would have viewed
- with pleasure any efforts on your part to earn your own bread. You
- are apparently no longer used to this? It would also have been very
- interesting to know what would become of your grandiose contempt
- when.... But I am not angry. Strange to say, I even nurse a feeling
- of thankfulness for your...billions. And I am rather hopeful. Yes,
- I still have a little hope that some day you may really grow to be a
- man. And while this may prove an impediment to me, I am ready to take
- you with me, but only--after a certain test. Are you still anxious to
- have...Maria?"
- "Yes."
- "Very well."
- Magnus rose with effort and moved toward the door. But he halted for a
- moment and turned toward me and--surprising as it was on the part of
- this scoundrel--he kissed my brow.
- "Sit down, old man. I will call her immediately. The servants are all
- out to-day."
- He uttered the last sentence as he knocked feebly at the door. The
- head of one of his _aides_ appeared for a moment and immediately
- withdrew. With apparently the same effort Magnus returned to his place
- and said with a sigh:
- "She will be here at once."
- We were silent. I fixed my eyes upon the tall door and it opened wide.
- _Maria_ entered. With a quick step I moved to greet her and bowed
- low. Magnus shouted:
- "Don't kiss that hand!"
- May 27.
- I could not continue these notes yesterday. Do not laugh! This mere
- combination of words: do not kiss that hand!--seemed to me the most
- terrible utterance the human tongue was capable of. It acted upon me
- like a magic curse. When I recall those words now they _interrupt_
- everything I do and befog my whole being, transporting me into a
- new state. If I happen to be speaking I grow silent, as if suddenly
- stricken dumb. If I happen to be walking, I halt. If standing, I run.
- If I happen to be asleep, no matter how deep my slumber, I awake and
- cannot fall asleep again. Very simple, extremely simple words: Do not
- kiss that hand!
- And now listen to what happened further:
- And so: I bowed over _Maria's_ hand. But so strange and sudden was
- Magnus' cry, so great was the command in his hoarse voice, that it was
- impossible to disobey. It was as if he had stopped a blind man on the
- edge of a precipice! _But_ I failed to grasp his meaning and raised my
- head in perplexity, still holding Maria's hand in mine, and looked at
- Magnus. He was breathing heavily, as if he had actually witnessed my
- fall into the abyss--and in reply to my questioning look, he said in a
- stifled tone:
- "Let her hand alone. Maria get away from him."
- Maria released her hand and stepped aside, at a distance from me.
- Still perplexed I watched her, standing alone! I tried to grasp the
- situation. For a brief moment it seemed even extremely ludicrous and
- reminded me of a scene in a comedy, in which the angry father comes
- unexpectedly upon the sweethearts, but my silly laughter died away
- immediately and in obedient expectation I raised my eyes to Magnus.
- Magnus hesitated. Rising with an effort, he twice paced the length of
- the room and halting before me, with his hands clasped behind him,
- said:
- "With all your eccentricities, you're a decent man, Wondergood. I have
- _robbed_ you (that was how he put it) but I can no longer permit you
- to kiss the hand of this woman. Listen! Listen! I have already told
- you you must change your outlook upon men. I know it is very difficult
- and I sympathize with you, but it is essential that you do it, old
- friend. Listen! Listen! I misled you: Maria is not my daughter...I
- have no children. Neither is she a...Madonna. She is my mistress
- and she was that as recently as last night...."
- Now I understand that Magnus was merciful in his own way and was
- intentionally submerging me slowly into darkness. But at that time I
- did not realize this and _slowly_ stifling, my breath gradually dying,
- I lost consciousness. And when with Magnus' last words the light fled
- from me and impenetrable night enveloped my being, I whipped out my
- revolver and fired at Magnus several times in succession. I do not
- know how many shots I fired. I remember only a series of laughing,
- flickering flames and the movements of my hand, pushing the weapon
- forward. I cannot remember at all how and when his _aides_ rushed in
- and disarmed me. When I regained my senses this was the picture I
- saw: the _aides_ were gone. I was sitting deep in my chair before the
- dark fireplace, my hair was wet, while above my left eyebrow there
- was a bandage soaked in blood. My collar was gone and my shirt was
- torn, my left sleeve was almost entirely torn off, so that I had to
- keep jerking it up constantly. Maria stood on the same spot, in the
- same pose, as if she had not moved at all during the struggle. I was
- surprised to see Toppi, who sat in a corner and gazed at me strangely.
- At the table, with his back to me, stood Magnus. He was pouring out
- some wine for himself.
- When I heaved a particularly deep sigh, Magnus turned quickly and said
- in a strangely familiar tone:
- "Do you want some wine, Wondergood? You may have a glass now. Here,
- drink.... You see you failed to hit me. I do not know whether to be
- glad or not, but I am alive. To your health, old man!"
- I touched my brow with my finger and mumbled:
- "Blood...."
- "A mere trifle, just a little scratch. It won't matter. Don't touch
- it."
- "It smells."
- "With powder? Yes, that'll soon pass, too. Toppi is here. Do you
- see him? He asked permission to stay here. You won't object if your
- secretary remains while we continue our conversation? He is extremely
- devoted to you."
- I looked at Toppi and smiled. Toppi made a grimace and sighed gently:
- "Mr. Wondergood! It is I, your Toppi."
- And he burst into tears. This old devil, still emitting the odor
- of fur, this old clown in black, this sexton with hanging nose,
- this seducer of little girls--burst into tears! But still worse was
- it when, blinking my eyes, I, too, began to weep, I, "the wise,
- immortal, almighty!" Thus we both wept, two deceived devils who
- happened to drop in upon this earth, and human beings--I am happy to
- give them their due!--looked on with deep sympathy for our tears.
- Weeping and laughing at the same time, I asked:
- "It's difficult to be a man, Toppi?"
- And Toppi, sobbing, replied obediently:
- "Very difficult, Mr. Wondergood."
- But here I happened to look at Maria and my sentimental tears
- immediately dried. In general, that evening is memorable for the
- sudden and ludicrous transformations of my moods. You probably know
- them, old man? Now I wept and beat the lyre, like a weeping post, now
- I became permeated with a stony calm and a sense of unconquerable
- power, or I began to chatter nonsense, like a parrot scared to death
- by a dog, and kept up my chatter, louder, sillier and more and more
- unbearable, until a new mood bore me off into a deep and inexpressible
- sadness. Magnus caught my look at Maria and smiled involuntarily. I
- adjusted the collar of my torn shirt and said _dryly_:
- "I do not know whether to be glad or sorry that I failed to kill
- you, old friend. I am quite calm now, however, and would like you to
- tell me everything about...that woman. But as you are a liar, let
- me question her first. Signorina Maria, you were my bride? And in a
- few days I hoped to call you my wife. But tell me the truth: are you
- really...this man's mistress?"
- "Yes, signor."
- "And...how long?"
- "Five years, signor."
- "And how old are you now."
- "Nineteen, signor."
- "That means you were fourteen.... Now you may continue, Magnus."
- "Oh, my God!"
- (It was Toppi who exclaimed.)
- "Sit down, Maria.--As you see, Wondergood,"--began Magnus in a dry and
- calm tone, as if he were demonstrating not himself but some sort of a
- chemical compound--"this mistress of mine is quite an extraordinary
- phenomenon. With all her unusual resemblance to the Madonna, capable
- of deceiving men better versed than you or I in religion, with all her
- really unearthly beauty, chastity and charm--she is a licentious and
- quite shameless creature, ready to sell herself from head to foot...."
- "Magnus!"
- "Calm yourself. You see how she listens to me? Even your old Toppi
- is cringing and blushing while she--her gaze is clear and all her
- features are filled with placid harmony...did you notice how clear
- Maria's gaze is? Do you hear me?"
- "Yes, certainly."
- "Would you like wine or an orange? Take it. There it is on the table.
- Incidentally, observe her graceful walk: she seems to be always
- stepping lightly as if on flowers or clouds. What extraordinary beauty
- and litheness! As an old lover of hers, I may also add the following
- detail which you have not learned yet: she herself, her body, has the
- fragrance of some flowers. Now as to her spiritual qualities, as the
- psychologists put it. If I were to speak of them in ordinary language,
- I would say she was as stupid as a goose,--quite a hopeless fool. But
- she is cunning. And a liar. Very avaricious as regards money but she
- likes it only in gold. Everything she told you she learned from me,
- memorizing the more difficult lines...and I had quite a task in
- teaching her. But I feared all the time that, despite your love, you
- would be struck by her apparent lack of brains and that is why I kept
- her from you the last few days."
- Toppi sobbed:
- "Oh, God! Madonna!"
- "Does this astonish you, Mr. Toppi?"--Magnus asked, turning his head.
- "I dare say you are not alone. Do you remember, Wondergood, what I
- told you about Maria's _fatal_ resemblance, which drove one young man
- to suicide. I did not lie to you altogether: the youth actually did
- kill himself when he realized who Maria really was. He was pure of
- soul. He loved as you do and as you he could not bear--how do you put
- it?--the wreck of his ideal."
- Magnus laughed:
- "Do you remember Giovanni, Maria?"
- "Slightly."
- "Do you hear, Wondergood?" asked Magnus, laughing. "That is exactly
- the tone in which she would have spoken of me a week hence if you
- had killed me to-day. Have another orange, Maria.... But if I were
- to speak of Maria in extraordinary language--she is not at all
- stupid. She simply doesn't happen to have what is called a soul. I
- have frequently tried to look deep into her heart and thoughts and
- I have always ended in vertigo, as if I had been hurled to the edge
- of an abyss: there was _nothing_ there. Emptiness. You have probably
- observed, Wondergood, or you, Mr. Toppi, that ice is not as cold as
- the brow of a _dead_ man? And no matter what emptiness familiar to you
- you may imagine, my friends, it cannot be compared with that absolute
- vacuum which forms the kernel of my beautiful, light-giving star.
- Star of the Seas?--that was what you once called her, Wondergood, was
- it not?"
- Magnus laughed again and gulped down a glass of wine. He drank a great
- deal that evening.
- "Will you have some wine, Mr. Toppi? No? Well, suit yourself. I'll
- take some. So that is why, Mr. Wondergood, I did not want you to kiss
- the hand of that creature. Don't turn your eyes away, old friend.
- Imagine you are in a museum and look straight at her, bravely. Did you
- wish to say something, Toppi?"
- "Yes, Signor Magnus. Pardon me, Mr. Wondergood, but I would like to
- ask your permission to leave. As a gentleman, although not much of
- that, I...cannot remain...at...."
- Magnus narrowed his eyes derisively:
- "At such a scene?"
- "Yes, at such a scene, when one gentleman, with the silent approval
- of another gentleman, insults a woman like _that_," exclaimed Toppi,
- extremely irritated, and rose. Magnus, just as ironically, turned to
- me:
- "And what do you say, Wondergood? Shall we release this little,
- extremely little, gentleman?"
- "Stay, Toppi."
- Toppi sat down obediently.
- From the moment Magnus resumed, I, for the first time, regained my
- breath and looked at Maria.
- What shall I say to you? It was _Maria_. And here I understood a
- little _what_ happens in one's brain when one begins to go mad.
- "May I continue?" asked Magnus. "However, I have little to add.
- Yes, I took her when she was fourteen or fifteen years old. She
- herself does not know how old she really is, but I was not her first
- lover...nor the tenth. I could never learn her past exactly. She
- either lies cunningly or is actually devoid of memory. But even
- the most subtle questioning, which even a most expert criminal
- could not dodge, neither bribes nor gifts, nor threats--and she is
- extremely cowardly!--could compel her to reveal herself. She does
- not 'remember.' That's all. But her deep licentiousness, enough to
- shame the Sultan himself, her extraordinary experience and daring in
- ars amandi confirms my suspicion that she received her training in a
- lupanaria or...or at the court of some Nero. I do not know how old
- she is and she seems to change constantly. Why should I not say that
- she is 20 or 2000 years old? Maria...you can do everything and you
- know everything?"
- I did not look at that woman. But in her answer there was a slight
- displeasure:
- "Don't talk nonsense. What will Mr. Wondergood think of me?"
- Magnus broke into loud laughter and struck the table with his glass:
- "Do you hear, Wondergood? She covets your good opinion. And if I
- should command her to undress at once in your presence...."
- "Oh, my God! My God!"--sobbed Toppi and covered his face with his
- hands. I glanced quickly into Magnus' eyes--and remained rigid in
- the terrible enchantment of his gaze. His face was laughing. This
- pale mask of his was still lined with traces of faint laughter but
- the eyes were dim and inscrutable. Directed upon me, they stared off
- somewhere into the distance and were horrible in their expression of
- dark and _empty_ madness: only the empty orbits of a skull could gaze
- so threateningly and in such wrath.
- And again darkness filled my head and when I regained my senses Magnus
- had already turned and calmly sipped his wine. Without changing his
- position, he raised his glass to the light, smelled the wine, sipped
- some more of it and said as calmly as before:
- "And so, Wondergood, my friend. Now you know about all there is to
- know of Maria or the Madonna, as you called her, and I ask you: will
- you take her or not? I give her away. Take her. If you say yes, she
- will be in your bedroom to-day and...I swear by eternal salvation,
- you will pass a very pleasant night. Well, what do you say?"
- "Yesterday, you, and to-day, I?"
- "Yesterday I,--to-day, you." He smiled: "What kind of man are you,
- Wondergood, to speak of such trifles. Or aren't you used to having
- some one else warm your bed? Take her. She is a fine girl."
- "Whom are you torturing, Magnus:--me or yourself?"
- Magnus looked at me ironically:
- "What a wise boy! Of course, myself! You are a very clever American,
- Mr. Wondergood, and I wonder why your career has been so mediocre.
- Go to bed, dear children. Good night. What are you looking at,
- Wondergood: do you find the hour too early? If so, take her out for
- a walk in the garden. When you see Maria beneath the moonlight, 3000
- Magnuses will be unable to prove that this heavenly maiden is the same
- creature who...."
- I flared up:
- "You are a disgusting scoundrel and liar, Thomas Magnus! If she has
- received her training in a lupanaria, then you, my worthy signor, must
- have received your higher education in the penitentiary. Whence comes
- that aroma which permeates so thoroughly your gentlemanly jokes and
- witticisms. The sight of your pale face is beginning to nauseate me.
- After enticing a woman in the fashion of a petty, common hero...."
- Magnus struck the table with his fist. His bloodshot eyes were aflame.
- "Silence! You are an inconceivable ass, Wondergood! Don't you
- understand that I myself, like you, was deceived by her? Who, meeting
- _Madonna_, can escape deception? Oh devil! What are the sufferings
- of your little, shallow American soul in comparison with the pangs
- of mine? Oh devil! Witticism, jests, gentlemen and ladies, asses
- and tigers, gods and devils! Can't you see: this is not a woman,
- this is--an eagle who daily plucks my liver! My suffering begins in
- the morning. Each morning, oblivious to what passed the day before,
- I see Madonna before me and believe. I think: what happened to me
- yesterday? Apparently, I must be mistaken or did I miss anything?
- It is impossible that this clear gaze, this divine walk, this pure
- countenance of Madonna should belong to a prostitute. It is your soul
- that is vile, Thomas Magnus: she is as pure as a host. And there
- were occasions when, on my knees, I actually begged forgiveness of
- this creature! Can you imagine it: on my knees! Then it was that I
- was really a scoundrel, Wondergood. I idealized her, endowed her
- with my thoughts and feelings and was overjoyed, like an idiot. I
- almost wept with felicity when she mumblingly repeated what I would
- say. Like a high priest I painted my idol and then knelt before it in
- intoxication! But the truth proved stronger at last. With each moment,
- with each hour, falsehood slipped off her body, so that, toward
- night, I even beat her. I beat her and wept. I beat her cruelly as
- does a procurer his mistress. And then came night with its Babylonian
- licentiousness, the sleep of the dead and--oblivion. And then morning
- again. And again Madonna. And again...oh, devil! Over night my faith
- again grew, as did the liver of Prometheus, and like a bird of prey
- she tortured me all day. I, too, am human, Wondergood!"
- Shivering as if with cold, Magnus began to pace the room rapidly,
- gazed into the dark fireplace and approached Maria. Maria lifted her
- clear gaze to him, as if in question, while Magnus stroked her head
- carefully and gently, as he would that of a parrot or a cat:
- "What a little head! What a sweet, little head.... Wondergood! Come,
- caress it!"
- I drew up my torn sleeve and asked ironically:
- "And it is this bird of prey that you now wish to give to me? Have
- you exhausted your feed? You want my liver, too, in addition to my
- billions?"
- But Magnus had already calmed himself. Subduing his excitement and the
- drunkenness which had imperceptibly come upon him, he returned to his
- place without haste and ordered politely:
- "I will answer you in a moment, Mr. Wondergood. Please withdraw to
- your room Maria. I have something to say to Mr. Wondergood. And I
- would ask you, too, my honorable Mr. Toppi, to depart. You may join my
- friends in the salon."
- "If Mr. Wondergood will so command...." replied Toppi, dryly, without
- rising.
- I nodded and, without looking at Magnus, my secretary obediently made
- his exit. Maria, too, left the room. To tell the truth, I again felt
- like clinging to his vest and weeping in the first few moments of my
- tête-à-tête with Magnus: after all, this thief was my friend! But I
- satisfied myself with merely swallowing my tears. Then followed a
- moment of brief desperation at the _departure_ of Maria. And slowly,
- as if from the realm of remote recollection, blind and wild anger and
- the need of beating and destroying began to fill my heart. Let me
- add, too, that I was extremely provoked by my torn sleeve that kept
- slipping constantly: it was necessary for me to be stern and austere
- and this made me seem ridiculous...ah, on what trifles does the
- result of the greatest events depend on this earth! I lighted a cigar
- and with studied gruffness hurled into the calm and hateful face of
- Magnus:
- "Now, you! Enough of comedy and charlatanism. Tell me what you want.
- So you want me to surrender to that bird of prey of yours?"
- Magnus replied calmly, although his eyes were burning with anger:
- "Yes. That is the trial I wanted to subject you to, Wondergood.
- I fear that I have succumbed slightly to the emotion of useless
- and vain revenge and spoke more heatedly than was necessary in
- Maria's presence. The thing is, Wondergood, that all that I have so
- picturesquely described to you, all this passion and despair and
- all these sufferings of...Prometheus really belong to the past. I
- now look upon Maria without pain and even with a certain amount of
- pleasure, as upon a beautiful and useful little beast...useful for
- domestic considerations. You understand? What after all, is the liver
- of Prometheus? It is all nonsense! In reality, I should be thankful to
- Maria. She gnawed out with her little teeth my silly _faith_ and gave
- me that clear, firm and realistic outlook upon life which permits of
- no deceptions and...sentimentalisms. You, too, ought to experience
- and grasp it, Wondergood, if you would follow Magnus Ergo."
- I remained silent, lazily chewing my cigar. Magnus lowered his eyes
- and continued still more calmly and dryly:
- "Desert pilgrims, to accustom themselves to death, used to sleep in
- coffins: let Maria be your coffin and when you feel like going to
- church, kissing a woman and stretching your hand to a friend, just
- look at Maria and her _father_, Thomas Magnus. Take her, Wondergood,
- and you will soon convince yourself of the value of my gift. I don't
- need her any longer. And when your humiliated soul shall become
- inflamed with truly inextinguishable, human hatred and not with weak
- contempt, come to me and I shall welcome you into the ranks of my
- yeomanry, which will very soon.... Are you hesitating? Well, then go,
- catch other lies, but be careful to avoid scoundrels and Madonnas, my
- gentleman from Illinois!"
- He broke into loud laughter and swallowed a glass of wine at one gulp.
- His swollen calm evaporated. Little flames of intoxication, now merry,
- now ludicrous, like the lights of a carnival, now triumphant, now dim,
- like funeral torches at a grave, again sprang forth in his bloodshot
- eyes. The scoundrel was drunk but held himself firmly, merely swaying
- his branches, like an oak before a south wind. Rising and facing me,
- he straightened his body cynically, as if trying to reveal himself in
- his entirety, and well nigh spat these words at me:
- "Well? How long do you intend to think about it, you ass? Come, quick,
- or I'll kick you out! Quick! I'm tired of you! What's the use of my
- wasting words? What are you thinking of?"
- My head buzzed. Madly pulling up that accursed sleeve of mine, I
- replied:
- "I am thinking that you are an evil, contemptible, stupid and
- repulsive beast! I am thinking in what springs of life or hell itself
- I could find for you the punishment you deserve! Yes, I came upon this
- earth to play and to laugh. Yes, I myself was ready to embrace any
- evil. I myself lied and pretended, but you, hairy worm, you crawled
- into my very heart and bit me. You took advantage of the fact that my
- heart was human and bit me, you hairy worm. How dared you deceive me?
- I will punish you."
- "You? Me?"
- I am glad to say that Magnus was astonished and taken aback. His eyes
- widened and grew round and his open mouth naïvely displayed a set of
- white teeth. Breathing with difficulty, he repeated:
- "You? Me?"
- "Yes. I--you."
- "Police?"
- "You are not afraid of it? Very well. Let all your courts be
- powerless, remain unpunished on this earth, you evil conscienceless
- creature! The day will come when the sea of falsehood, which
- constitutes your life, will part and all your falsehood, too, will
- give way and disappear. Let there be no foot upon this earth to crush
- you, hairy worm. Let! I, too, am powerless here. But the day will come
- when you will depart from this earth. And when you come to _Me_ and
- fall under the shadow of my kingdom...."
- "Your kingdom? Hold on, Wondergood. Who are you, then?"
- And right at this point there occurred the most shameful event of my
- entire earthly life. Tell me: is it not ridiculously funny when Satan,
- even in human form, bends his knee in prayer to a prostitute and is
- stripped naked by the very first man he meets? Yes, this is extremely
- ridiculous and shameful of Satan, who bears with him the breath of
- eternity. But what would you say of Satan when he turned into a
- powerless and pitiful liar and pasted upon his head with a great
- flourish the paper crown of a theatrical czar? I am ashamed, old man.
- Give me one of your blows, the kind on which you feed your friends and
- hired clowns. Or has this torn sleeve brought me to this senseless,
- pitiful wrath? Or was this the last act of my human masquerade, when
- man's spirit descends to the mire and sweeps the dust and dirt with
- its breath? Or has the _ruin_ of Madonna, which I witnessed, dragged
- Satan, too, into the same abyss?
- But this was--think of it!--this was what I answered Magnus. Thrusting
- out my chest, barely covered with my torn shirt, stealthily pulling
- up my sleeve, so that it might not slip off entirely, and looking
- sternly and angrily directly into the stupid, and as they seemed to
- me, frightened eyes of the scoundrel Magnus, I replied _triumphantly_:
- "I am--Satan!"
- Magnus was silent for a moment--and then broke out into all the
- laughter that a drunken, repulsive, human belly can contain. Of
- course you, old man, expected that, but I did not. I swear by eternal
- salvation, I did not! I shouted something but the brazen laughter of
- this beast drowned my voice. Finally, taking advantage of a moment's
- interval between his thundering peals of laughter, I exclaimed quickly
- and modestly...like a footnote at the bottom of a page, like a
- commentary of a publisher:
- "Don't you understand: I am Satan. I have donned the human form! I
- have donned the human form!"
- He heard me with his eyes bulging, and with fresh thunderous roars of
- laughter, the outbursts shaking his entire frame, he moved toward the
- door, flung it open and shouted:
- "Here! Come here! Here is Satan! In human...human garb!"
- And he disappeared behind the door.
- Oh, if I could only have fallen through the floor, disappeared or
- flown away, like a real devil, on wings, in that endless moment,
- during which he was gathering the _public_ for an extraordinary
- spectacle. And now they came--all of them, damn them: Maria and all
- the six _aides_ and my miserable Toppi, and Magnus himself, and
- completing the procession--His Eminence, Cardinal X.! The cursed,
- shaven monkey walked with great dignity and even bowed to me, after
- which he sat down, just as dignified, in an armchair and carefully
- covered his knees with his robes. All were wondering, not knowing yet
- what it was all about, and glanced now at me and now at Magnus, who
- tried hard to look serious.
- "What's the trouble, Signor Magnus?" asked the Cardinal in a
- benevolent tone.
- "Permit me to report the following, your Eminence: Mr. Henry
- Wondergood has just informed me that he is--Satan. Yes, Satan, and
- that he has merely donned the human form. And thus our assumption that
- he is an American from Illinois falls. Mr. Wondergood is Satan and
- apparently has but recently deigned to arrive from Hell. What shall
- we do about it, Your Eminence?"
- Silence might have saved me. But how could I restrain this maddened
- Wondergood, whose heart was aflame with insult! Like a lackey who
- has appropriated his celebrated master's name and who faintly senses
- something of his grandeur, power and connections--Wondergood stepped
- forward and said with an ironic bow:
- "Yes, I am Satan. But I must add to the speech of Signor Magnus that
- not only do I wear the human form but also that I have been robbed.
- Are those _two_ scoundrels who have robbed me known to you, Your
- Eminence? And are you, perhaps, one of them, Your Eminence?"
- Magnus alone continued to smile. The rest, it seemed to me, grew
- serious and awaited the Cardinal's reply. It followed. The shaven
- monkey, it developed, was not a bad actor. Pretending to be startled,
- the Cardinal raised his right hand and said with an expression of
- extreme goodness, contrasting sharply with his words and gesture:
- "Vade Petro Satanas!"
- I am not going to describe to you how they laughed. You can imagine
- it. Even Maria's teeth parted slightly. Almost losing consciousness
- from anger and impotence, I turned to Toppi for sympathy and aid. But
- Toppi, covering his face with his hands, was cringing in the corner,
- silent. Amid general laughter, and ringing far above it, came the
- heavy voice of Magnus, laden with infinite ridicule:
- "Look at the plucked rooster. That is Satan!"
- And again there came an outburst of laughter. His Eminence
- continuously shook, as though flapping his wings, and choked and
- whined. The monkey's gullet could hardly pass the cascades of
- laughter. I tore off that accursed sleeve madly and waving it like
- a flag, I ventured into a sea of falsehood, with full sails set. I
- knew that somewhere ahead there were rocks against which I might be
- shattered but the tempest of impotence and anger bore me on like a
- chip of wood.
- I am ashamed to repeat my speech here. Every word of it was trembling
- and wailing with impotency. Like a village vicar, frightening his
- ignorant parishioners, I threatened them with _Hell_ and with all the
- Dantean tortures of literary fame. Oh, I did know something that I
- might really have frightened them with but how could I express the
- _extraordinary_ which is inexpressible in their language? And so I
- prattled on of eternal fire. Of eternal torture. Of unquenchable
- thirst. Of the gnashing of teeth. Of the fruitlessness of tears
- and pleading. And what else? Ah, even of red hot forks I prattled,
- maddened more and more by the indifference and shamelessness of these
- shallow faces, these small eyes, these mediocre souls, regarding
- themselves above punishment. But they remained unmoved and smug, as
- if in a fortress, beyond the walls of their mediocrity and fatal
- blindness. And all my words were shattered against their impenetrable
- skulls! And think of it, the only one who was really frightened was
- my Toppi! And yet he alone could _know_ that all my words were lies!
- It was so unbearably ridiculous when I met his pleading frightened
- eyes, that I abruptly ended my speech, suddenly, at its very climax.
- Silently, I waved my torn sleeve, which served me as a standard,
- once or twice, and hurled it into the corner. For a moment it seemed
- to me that the shaven monkey, too, was frightened: the blue of his
- cheeks seemed to stand out sharply upon the pale, square face and
- the little coals of his eyes were glowing suspiciously beneath his
- black, bushy eyebrows. But he slowly raised his hand and the same
- sacrilegiously-jesting voice broke the general silence:
- "Vade Petro Satanas!"
- Or did the Cardinal try to hide behind this jest his actual fright? I
- do not know. I know nothing. If I could not destroy them, like Sodom
- and Gomorrah, is it worth while speaking of cold shivers and goose
- flesh? A mere glass of wine can conquer them.
- And Magnus, like the skilled healer of souls that he was, said calmly:
- "Will you have a glass of wine, Your Eminence?"
- "With pleasure," replied the Cardinal.
- "But none for Satan," added Magnus jestingly, pouring out the wine.
- But he could speak and do anything he pleased now: Wondergood was
- squeezed dry and hung like a rag upon the arm of the chair.
- After the wine had been drunk, Magnus lit a cigarette (he smokes
- cigarettes), cast his eye over the audience, like a lecturer before a
- lecture, motioned pleasantly to Toppi, now grown quite pale, and said
- the following...although he was obviously drunk and his eyes were
- bloodshot, his voice was firm and his speech flowed with measured calm:
- "I must say, Wondergood, that I listened to you very attentively and
- your passionate tirade created upon me, I may say, a great, artistic
- impression...at certain points you reminded me of the best passages
- of Brother Geronimo Savanarola. Don't you also find the same striking
- resemblance, Your Eminence? But alas! You are slightly behind the
- times. Those threats of hell and eternal torture with which you might
- have driven the beautiful and merry Florence to panic ring extremely
- unconvincing in the atmosphere of contemporary Rome. The sinners have
- long since departed from the earth, Mr. Wondergood. Have not you
- noticed that? And as for criminals, and, as you have expressed it,
- scoundrels,--a plain commissary of police is much more alarming to
- them than Beelzebub himself with his whole staff of devils. I must
- also confess that your reference to the court of history and posterity
- was rather strange when contrasted with the picture you painted of
- the tortures of hell and your reference to eternity. But here, too,
- you failed to rise to the height of contemporary thought: every fool
- nowadays knows that history records with equal impartiality both
- the names of saints and of rogues. The whole point, Mr. Wondergood,
- which you, as an American, should be particularly familiar with,
- is in the scope with which history treats its respective subjects
- and heroes. The lashings history administers to its great criminals
- differ but little from her laurels--when viewed at a distance and
- this little distinction eventually becomes quite invisible--I assure
- you, Wondergood. In fact, it disappears entirely! And in so far as
- the biped strives to find a place in history--and we are all animated
- by this desire, Mr. Wondergood--it need not be particular through
- which door it enters: I beg the indulgence of His Eminence, but no
- prostitute received a new guest with greater welcome than does history
- a new...hero. I fear, Wondergood, that your references to hell as
- well as those to history have fallen flat. Ah, I fear your hope in the
- police will prove equally ill-founded: I have failed to tell you that
- His Eminence has received a certain share of those billions which you
- have transferred to me in such a perfectly legal manner, while his
- connections...you understand?"
- Poor Toppi: all he could do was to keep on blinking! The _aides_ broke
- into loud laughter, but the Cardinal mumbled angrily, casting upon me
- the burning little coals of his eyes:
- "He is indeed a brazen fellow. He said he is Satan. Throw him out,
- Signor Magnus. This is sacrilege!"
- "Is that so?" smiled Magnus politely: "I did not know that Satan, too,
- belonged to the heavenly chair...."
- "Satan is a fallen angel," said the Cardinal in an instructive tone.
- "And as such he is in your service? I understand," Magnus bowed his
- head politely in acceptance of this truth and turned smilingly to me:
- "Do you hear, Wondergood? His Eminence is irritated by your audacity."
- I was silent. Magnus winked at me slyly and continued with an air of
- artificial importance:
- "I believe, Your Eminence, that there must be some sort of
- misunderstanding here. I know the modesty and well-informed mind of
- Mr. Wondergood and I suppose that he utilized the name of Satan merely
- as an artistic gesture. Does Satan ever threaten people with the
- police? But my unfortunate friend did. And, in general, has anybody
- ever seen _such_ a Satan?"
- He stretched his hand out to me in an effective gesture--and the reply
- to this was another outburst of laughter. The Cardinal, too, laughed,
- and Toppi alone shook his wise head, as if to say:
- "Idiots!"...
- I think Magnus must have noticed that. Or else he fell into
- intoxication. Or was it because that spirit of murder with which his
- soul was aflame could not remain passive and was tearing at the leash.
- He threateningly shook his heavy, explosive head and shouted:
- "Enough of this laughter! It is silly. Why are you so sure of
- yourselves? It is stupid, I tell you. I believe in nothing and that
- is why I admit _everything_. Press my hand, Wondergood: they are all
- fools and I am quite ready to admit that you are Satan. Only you have
- fallen into a bad mess, friend Satan. Because it will not save you. I
- will soon throw you out anyhow! Do you hear...devil?"
- He shook his finger at me threateningly and then lapsed into thought,
- dropping his head low and heavily, with his red eyes ablaze, like
- those of a bull, ready to hurl himself upon his enemy. The _aides_ and
- the insulted Cardinal were silent with confusion. Magnus again shook
- his finger at me significantly and said:
- "If you are Satan, then you've come here too late. Do you understand?
- What did you come here for, anyway? To play, you say? To tempt? To
- laugh at us human beings? To invent some sort of a new, evil game? To
- make us dance to your tune? Well,--you're too late. You should have
- come earlier, for the earth is grown now and no longer needs your
- talents. I speak not of myself, who deceived you so easily and took
- away your money: I, Thomas Ergo. I speak not of Maria. But look at
- these modest little friends of mine: where in your hell will you find
- such charming, fearless devils, ready for any task? And yet they are
- so small,--they will not even find a place in history."
- It was after this that Thomas Magnus blew me up, in the holy city of
- Rome, in the Palazzo Orsini, when I still belonged to the American
- billionaire, Henry Wondergood. Do you remember that genial American
- with his cigar and patent gold teeth? Alas! He is no longer with us.
- He died suddenly and you will do well if you order a requiem mass for
- him: his Illinois soul is in need of your prayers.
- Let us receive the last breath of Henry Wondergood, blown up by the
- culprit Thomas Magnus, and buried by Maria in the evening, when the
- moon was shining brightly.
- THE END
- * * * * *
- Transcriber's Notes
- Punctuation has been standardised.
- Characters in small caps have been replaced by all caps.
- Italic text has been denoted by _underscores_.
- This book was written in a period when many words had not become
- standarized in their spelling. Numerous words have multiple spelling
- and hypenating variations in the text. These have been left unchanged
- while obvious spelling mistakes have been repaired unless noted below:
- Pg 17 - The following jumbled sentence has been edited to remove
- the repeated phrases: "Again silence. Finally there came
- a gruff voice, Still silence. I knocked. Again silence.
- Finally there came a gruff voice, asking from behind
- the iron door:"
- Pg 58 - Part of the sentence asking about Maria appears
- to be missing from the original.
- (seek him in eternity.")
- End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Satan's Diary, by Leonid Andreyev
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