Kaytek the Wizard

by Janusz Korczak

  “Who knows? If he is a wizard, maybe he’s managed to save himself? Now he’ll really start taking revenge.”

  “It’s not my responsibility. The authorities know what they’re doing.”

  They ride off.

  “So it was our side shooting at me! No, I’m not going to take revenge. It’s time I went out into the world,” thought Kaytek.

  With his head drooping and with heavy steps, he walked away.

  * * *

  *Janusz Korczak was actively involved in this real organization that provided vacations for deprived children.

  **The Tatra mountains are in southern Poland, on the border with Slovakia.

  ***Bengal lights are a kind of fireworks. Tableaux vivants are silent, motionless representations of historical scenes, performed by a group of people.

  Chapter Eleven

  A meeting in Geneva – The experts confer –

  Spells or not spells? – Mr. X

  Kaytek couldn’t understand what experts the soldiers were talking about because he didn’t know what had been happening in the outside world since the time of his memorable adventures. Nor had there had been anything in the newspapers about it because it was a secret. The authorities had decided to dull Kaytek’s vigilance so he would think he could cast his spells with impunity.

  Each foreign country has its own consul in Poland. It is the consul’s duty to report to his own government about everything that happens in Poland. And in the same way, Poland has its own consuls in all the foreign countries.

  It was these gentlemen – the French consul, the German consul, and the British consul – who immediately sent out reports by telegraph.

  The German consul telegraphed to his government:

  The Poles have invented a way of making bridges stand upward. There is also a secret factory in Poland that makes cars which can fly. Please inform the Minister of War.

  The French ambassador sent a telegram saying:

  France is Poland’s friend; meanwhile it turns out Poland is hiding some secrets from us. Today I went to see the Polish minister and I told him it is a very ugly situation.

  The British consul demanded briefly:

  Please send a talented detective. There are some important military secrets here. The diplomatic courier left today with a letter in which I have described it all in detail.

  In Switzerland there is a city called Geneva. In Geneva, each nation has a delegate. These delegates sit there and confer on what to do in order to make sure there won’t be any wars in the world. This group of delegates is known as the League of Nations.*

  The reason why the League of Nations is in Switzerland is because it is a small country that doesn’t fight.

  So the delegates gathered in Geneva and conferred on the matter of Kaytek.

  First to speak is the German. “We are Poland’s neighbors,” he says. “The Poles are in deep trouble. The things that have been happening in Warsaw present a danger to our bridges, our clocks, and our railroads. The Poles like causing trouble.”

  “The Germans cause more trouble than we do,” says the Polish delegate.

  Then the Chairman interrupts the meeting, saying:

  “Gentleman, we haven’t gathered to argue or insult each other. If a delegate has advice to offer, let him give it, but if not, I will not allow him to speak further.”

  Then the German goes on:

  “The Poles are inventing military devices and doing dangerous experiments. They have gained a powerful ally.”

  “He’s not an ally, but an enemy, maybe even a spy,” says the Polish delegate. “I have just received news from my government that they have arrested some spies. We only want peace. We were just about to receive a loan from some millionaires, but they took fright and left the country.”

  “I agree with my Polish colleague. Perhaps Mr. X, the unidentified person, is their enemy. In that case, we want to help them.”

  “There’s no need.”

  “What sort of help can you provide?” asks the Chairman.

  “We’ll send our policemen and soldiers, and help them to investigate the case on the spot. The Poles clearly can’t manage on their own.”

  “Please don’t concern yourself, sir.”

  “I know . . . I’ve got it!” cries the Frenchman suddenly. “Gentlemen, we must hurry, because Mr. X really is dangerous.”

  “So what do you know about him?” asks the British delegate.

  “Gentlemen, let us hand the matter over to the experts. A committee of experts must leave for Warsaw this very day. By tomorrow it could be too late.”

  The British delegate lights his pipe and takes out a notepad and pencil.

  “How many experts are to go?”

  “Let’s say ten.”

  “All right. Ten experts will go. But who?”

  “One learned physicist, one learned chemist, one engineer, one doctor . . .”

  “Gentlemen!” cries the German. “We cannot do it like this. We must give this some careful thought. Why should there be ten experts, rather than eight, or twelve?”

  “Of course you should give it some thought – who’s stopping you?”

  “Go ahead and think about it, if you have the time,” shouts the Italian, “because we don’t! Mr. X is like a volcano that could explode at any moment. I’m saying this because I have had a detailed report from Warsaw.”

  “Now, now, let’s have some patience, please,” says the British delegate, calming the assembly down.

  The Frenchman takes a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, borrows the British delegate’s pencil, and starts writing.

  Everyone waits for him to finish, except the German who mutters: “It should all be done slowly and methodically.”

  Then the French delegate reads from his sheet of paper:

  “So, the following experts will come from London: a physicist, a zoologist, and a spiritualist. From Paris there will be: a chemist, a doctor, and a psychologist. From Rome: a geologist and a lawyer. From Berlin: a philosopher and a historian.”

  The German leaps to his feet and bangs his fist on the table.

  “Out of the question! You are each sending four, and we Germans only one expert? It’s outrageous!”

  The British delegate takes the crumpled paper from the Frenchman’s hands, and frowns because it’s stained with wine and tomato sauce. The Frenchman is embarrassed.

  “Sorry, I wrote it on a restaurant check.”

  “Never mind. Please give me back my pencil.”

  The British delegate copies it all into his notepad.

  “Everyone who agrees, please raise your hand.”

  “I don’t agree,” says the German.

  They all vote that it’s a good plan. Only in Geneva they have a different way of saying it, which is that “the French delegate achieved success.”

  That’s how they say it there.

  The League of Nations sends out five telegrams.

  At once the experts set off by airplane from London and Paris, and by car from Berlin. The Italian experts arrive in Warsaw by express train from Rome in time for the second session.

  The sessions took place in great secrecy at night, at the university in downtown Warsaw.

  The meetings are opened by a Polish astronomer.

  “Gentlemen,” he says, “all the unusual incidents have been gathered and described in writing. There have been three hundred and sixty five of them. The official translator has translated everything into French. Please read it, and you will see how much nonsense and idiocy it contains. Someone only has to have a dream and then they rush off to the police to report it. Drunks come along and talk great streams of garbage. Cheats trying to swindle us out of a reward come and tell plain old lies. A madman has been insistently claiming he is a wizard, and tha
t he did it all. If two old women quarrel, at once one of them says the other is a witch, and that she flies out of the chimney at night on a broomstick. Everyone swears he saw it all with his own eyes. It’s impossible to get rid of all these pests, which is making our work much harder.”

  “I know what it’s like,” puts in the historian. “It has always been like that. People love to tell fibs.”

  “I know what it’s like,” says the lawyer. “Unfortunately, people love telling lies.”

  The astronomer continues:

  “I have rejected the rumors and just left what appears to be the truth. There you have the facts written out on a separate piece of paper, gentlemen. Besides this, we have gathered some material evidence, which is in this cabinet.”

  He points to a glass cabinet where various things that have been collected and numbered are lying in jars and boxes. There are photographs, stones, knives, paint scraped off store signs, the poster announcing the lecture, a piece of chalk, some mauled cats and dogs in pickling fluid, some flies, some air in balloons, and something one of the elephants did in the Royal Park.

  “I will examine the cats and dogs,” says the zoologist.

  “So will I,” says the chemist, “to see if they were poisoned.”

  “I’ll inspect the bridge,” says the physicist.

  “So will I,” says the geologist.

  Then the astronomer goes on explaining:

  “On this sheet of paper there is a report made by the school’s educational board for the inspector. The teachers think someone poisoned the air in the school, maybe with some sort of gas, or morphine. Dentists used to give their patients laughing gas to sniff, then pull their teeth, and the patient didn’t feel any pain at all, he just laughed and joked. That is why we saved some air in balloons from the restaurant, from the Royal Park, and Teatralny Square. Our chemists have done tests to see if it contains any additives, but nothing suspicious has been found.”

  “Let’s test it again.”

  “Excellent. Our employees at the Polytechnic and the Institute of Hygiene are at your disposal. You’ll find everything you need for your research there.”

  Tired by the journey, the experts close the session. They take away the papers to read them carefully, and they examine the material evidence.

  “Is that hair?”

  “That is the hair of a waiter whom Mr. X stuck to the ceiling.”

  “And what’s this?”

  “That is the sleeve from a linen dress in which Mr. X dressed up a policeman. The policeman tore it off and kept it as a souvenir.”

  The experts say goodbye to each other.

  “See you tomorrow!”

  At the second meeting they talk about the results of their research, and fully confirm what the Polish experts have already said before them.

  Then the spiritualist asks to speak.

  “Gentlemen, I know you don’t like it when there’s talk of ghosts, and so, knowing your mistrust of my kind of research, I won’t take up much of your time.”

  “The only reason we don’t trust it is that we’ve already convinced ourselves time and time again that your stunts are plain fakery.”

  “I won’t deny it. That makes us do our research all the more carefully. We too are often wrong.”

  “Why do your ghosts do everything in the dark? Why don’t they talk clearly like us, when we want to say or demonstrate something?”

  “Why? We don’t know, but perhaps one day we’ll find out. Maybe they choose not to speak clearly, or perhaps they can’t. We cannot communicate with ghosts, but maybe one day we’ll know how to.”

  “So are you trying to persuade us that all this was done by ghosts?” asks the historian impatiently.

  “No, I’m not saying that. But I have found a medium here in Warsaw, and we held a séance. We put out the light, sat down at a table, and held hands. We put some paper and a pencil on the table.”

  “We already know how it’s done. So then what happened?”

  “The table rose off the floor seven times. Some small lights appeared in the air. We heard the sound of someone’s footsteps. Then we heard the pencil writing. And here is the sheet of paper it wrote on.”

  On the page is written:

  “Copernicus.”

  And underneath it says:

  “K-t-k.”

  The experts examine it.

  What could the letters mean?

  The astronomer stared at the page for a long time.

  “That’s strange. If instead of the dashes you put letters, it could mean: ‘Kaytek’.”

  There is a long pause.

  “Gentlemen,” says the philosopher, breaking the silence, “let us be cautious. We may well agree with the words of the school janitor and the guard at the Town Hall: instead of doing all this scientific research, we should be looking for a wizard. We know it only takes one or two people to see something, and at once all the rest are convinced they can see it too. That’s just how it was in the past: one person would shout that he’d seen the devil, and at once everyone would start seeing him.”

  “And nowadays there are fakers who do similar tricks. Huge crowds of people stand and watch, and they all see something that isn’t really there.”

  “We lawyers are well aware of this. Often a witness tells the court what he has seen, when what actually happened was completely different. It’s not that the witness is lying, it’s just that he’s confused.”

  “So, gentlemen, would you like me to record in the minutes that none of this happened at all? In that case, how do we explain the material evidence? How do we explain incidents number nine, number twelve, and even number four? If we write that the world can relax, and then tomorrow or in a week’s time something like this happens again, or something worse, then what? I agree that we mustn’t frighten people, but if we tell them they can calm down now, we are taking on a great responsibility.”

  The experts argue until late at night, and then finally they write:

  The committee of experts has confirmed that Mr. X operates principally within Warsaw.

  They didn’t write “the ghost,” or “the wizard,” but Mr. X.

  All those present sign the minutes.

  At the third session the psychologist reads out a character profile of Mr. X, in other words, what he is like.

  “I can answer any questions you wish to put to me, gentlemen.

  “First question: Is Mr. X just one person, or two, or several? My answer is that there is only one of him – the incidents began at the cemetery, then after half an hour they moved to Nowy S´wiat Street, and an hour later to the Royal Park. On the second day they began outside the hotel, then occurred half an hour later at Teatralny Square, and then the bridge. It would have taken several thousand people to move all the clocks forward, even in private apartments, and to change all the posters. It’s impossible for no one to have noticed it happen, so it must have been done in a way that we cannot identify.

  “Second question: Is Mr. X old or young? My answer is that he is young and inexperienced. His acts are jokes, frivolous pranks. Our colleague the astronomer was too cautious when he discounted some of the magic spells (we cannot call them anything else). I believe the market trader’s statement – I believe Mr. X did indeed spill her apples, and then helped to pick them up. (Incident number one hundred and forty.)

  “Third question. Should we be afraid of Mr. X? My answer is yes, we should be afraid of Mr. X. He is not evil, but he loses his temper very easily. When he does something bad, he’s sorry, but he refuses to take the blame. He never stops wanting something different, because everything quickly bores him. He’s happy when people are paying attention to him, but he also likes to give serious thought to things. He’s impatient, he lacks discipline, and he’s a prankster – those are his shortcomings. He has a good heart – that is hi
s virtue. I don’t know if he has a strong will. He doesn’t make use of any machines or any other known method requiring work and effort – instead of that, he puts his ideas into action through magic spells. And that is dangerous.

  “And so here is my conclusion: although I do it reluctantly, I have no choice but to say that he is a young wizard.”

  The historian is furious.

  “Colleagues, are you out of your minds?” he says. “I thought it was my privilege to have confirmed for the last time in history that there are no wizards. I thought we were going to be the last committee in history to finish once and for all with these childish fairy tales about mysterious magical forces. This is shameful. What will people think when they read our minutes? Magic spells, charms, and mysterious powers? How shameful! What a disgrace! For shame, gentlemen, for shame!”

  Then the oldest expert of all, a chemist with snow white hair, stands up to speak.

  “My dear gentlemen, there always have been, still are, and forever will be magic spells. Is it not magic that out of two gases we can make a liquid – water, and that we can change water into hard ice? Isn’t it magic that we can put a patient to sleep and cut him up, while he just goes on sleeping and doesn’t feel a thing? Is it not magic that lightning transports people in trams and meekly burns in our electric lights, and that our voices and thoughts can be carried thousands of miles by wire and by wireless? We can even photograph the bones of a living man. And what about the microscope, the telescope, the submarine, and the airplane? Or the radio?”

  “That is science, not magic.”

  “I agree. So now Mr. X has appeared who is capable of doing things we cannot, but he does it in secret, he keeps himself hidden, because instead of benefit he is bringing harm. Our task is to evaluate his strength and decide how dangerous he is; our task is to expose him and communicate with him, render him harmless, and even, if necessary, destroy him.”

  At the fourth session there is a specialist from America who has invented a new alarm system for emergencies.

  “It’s a very simple device. It has a bell, a light, a number, and some tinted glass. In case of danger the light comes on, the bell rings, the street number appears, and you can see on the glass if it’s a fire, a mugging, or a crowd. One person can keep watch on an entire city. I’m not too eager to distribute my device for use yet – first I’d like to introduce some more improvements. It will only be completely ready in a year, but it may come in handy now.”