“What you have done is irreparable.”
“Why so?”
“I loved her.”
“You loved her! If you are silly enough to love an object which serves your lust, why, Juliette, there is nothing more I can say: it would be a waste of time hunting for arguments to convince you; none exist against stupidity.”
“Very well then,” I said grumpily, “it isn’t Augustine I am thinking about, but myself. I am anxious, I admit it. You will stop at nothing. What assurance have I that you will not subject me to the same treatment that undid my friend?”
“None, absolutely none,” said Minski, “and if the idea of assassinating you were to harden my prick, you’d no longer be among the living a quarter of an hour later. But I thought you were as much a rascal as I; in view of our resemblance, I prefer you as my accomplice than as my victim. That is also my attitude toward the two men in your company: they also look to me fitter to participate actively in my pleasures than to be the occasion of them: your security reposes upon this assumption. And what of Augustine? Ah! a bird of a different feather; I am a good physiognomist: more servile than criminal, she complied with your desires, did as she was told but was far from doing what she wanted. Oh, Juliette, I hold nothing sacred: to have spared all four of you would have been at the least to act as though I believed in the laws of hospitality. The appearance … the mere idea of a virtue horrifies me; I had to violate those laws, some gesture was required of me; I am satisfied now, put your cares away.”
“Minski, your frankness merits that I reply in the same strain. Let me repeat: if I am disturbed by Augustine’s fate it is mainly because it causes me concern for mine. You were not mistaken in your judgment of me, rest assured that my heart is incapable of lamenting any object of libertinage; I have sacrificed a fair number of them in my life, and I swear to you I have never bewailed the passing of a single one.”
At this Minski nodded and made as if to rise. “No,” I said, praying him to stay a little, “you just now began a criticism of the virtue of hospitality, I have a liking for principles; intimate to me yours on this subject. Although it has been a long while since any virtue has enjoyed my favor, I never took firm measures against my notions of hospitality—was it oversight? was it chance? or could it be that I harbored some obscure belief in their sanctity? Combat, discredit, destroy, extirpate—speak, Minski, you have my ear.”
“The greatest of all extravagances,” the giant began, plainly not displeased to have this opportunity to display his wit, “is without doubt that which leads us to ascribe a privileged nature to the individual who, by accident, through curiosity, or because of need, ventures under our roof; nothing but some personal motive could ever have induced us into this error. The fault is surely not Nature’s: the more entirely a people lives within her law, the less it knows of any laws of hospitality; countless savages lure travelers into ambushes and then immolate their prizes. In a few degenerate and unpolished nations they act differently, eagerly receive their visitors; and carry courtesy to the point of availing them of their wives and their children of both sexes; let us not be deceived by this practice, it too is the fruit of egoism. For the people who so behave are seeking support, protection, from the foreigners who come among them; recognizing them stronger, better made, or better-looking than themselves, they may desire to have these foreigners settle in their country, either to defend them or by mating with their women to breed an improved race for the regeneration of their society: such are the aims of this calculatedly joyous welcome, of this hospitality that seduces fools and which fools laud; and which, be persuaded of it, has never emanated from any disinterested sentiment.
“Yet other peoples expect pleasure from the guests they greet, and caress them in order to use them; they fuck them. But no people has ever exercised hospitality gratuitously: read all their histories and you will discover the particular reasons each had for receiving strangers generously.
“And indeed, what would be more ridiculous than to throw one’s house open to an individual from whom one expected nothing in return? In the name of what is a man under obligation to play benefactor to another man? Does the material or moral similarity obtaining between two bodies entail the necessity that one of these bodies do good to the other? I value a man to the extent he is useful to me; I scorn him and even detest him when he can be of no further service to me; he then having nothing left to show me but all that is vicious in him, and being nothing now but a potential threat to me, I must deal as warily with him as with a ferocious beast that can do me nothing except harm.
“Hospitality was the virtue preached by the weak: homeless, naked, puny, lost, looking elsewhere than to his own industry for his welfare, he had of course to advocate a virtue which would ready him haven and suppers. But what need has the strong man to act hospitably? Put incessantly to contribution, deriving nothing from his philanthropies, how long can he continue to be a host to all and sundry before he becomes a fool? I ask you now whether any action at all can be honestly reputed a virtue when it is to the advantage of only one of the classes of society?
“And think of the dangers to which they who perform it expose the hapless souls they unthinkingly shelter! Accustoming them to idleness, they rot what is left of moral fiber in their lazy guests, who soon finish by breaking into your house when, your generosity exhausted, you cease to open the door to them, just as beggars always turn thieves when you finally refuse them alms: well now, once you analyze any such action, for what, pray tell me, does it reveal itself when on the one hand you detect its inutility and on the other its perilous nature? Answer me straight out and unambiguously, Juliette: can you dare transform an action of this sort into a virtue? will you not, if you wish to be just, rather rank it among the vices? Let there be no mistake about it, the granting of hospitality is as dangerous as the granting of charity; all civilities that emanate from benevolence—a sentiment originating in weakness and arrogance—all of them are pernicious, from every imaginable point of view; and the prudent man, the reasonable man, steeling his heart against all these pusillanimous impulses, must take every good care to avoid the grim pitfalls into which they entice us.
“The inhabitants of one of the Cyclades are such enemies to hospitality that they go to unusual lengths to keep strangers at bay; they dread and loathe them, so much so that they never accept anything tendered them by a stranger without first protecting their bare hands with green leaves, and then attaching the object to the end of a stick. If despite all precautions a stranger chances to touch their skin, they purify themselves immediately, rubbing herbs upon the spot.
“There is no treating with certain Brazilian tribesmen save at the distance of one hundred paces, and gun in hand.20
“The Africans of Zanguebar are so little given to hospitality that they pitilessly slaughter all strangers who penetrate into their country.21
“For centuries the Thracians and the mountaineers of the Taurus pillaged and slew all who came to visit them.22
“To this day the Arabs despoil and sell into bondage all survivors of disasters at sea who succeed in coming ashore on their coasts.
“Egypt was long barred to foreigners; the government’s orders were to enslave or kill anyone found along the border or within sight of land.
“In Athens, in Sparta, hospitality was forbidden; those who implored it were punished by death.23
“Arrogating to themselves rights over foreigners, several governments execute them nowadays and confiscate their possessions.
“His Royal Highness the King of Achem seizes all vessels that run aground on the reefs in his coastal waters.
“Unsociableness toughens a man’s heart and thereby renders him fitter for great deeds; so it is that we see theft and murder erected into virtues; and only in those nations where this occurs do we ever see great feats and great men.
“The murder of foreigners is held a praiseworthy action in Kamchatka.
“The blacks of Loango go farther stil
l in their aversion to the hospitable virtues: they will not even suffer a stranger to be buried in their country.
“The entire world, in short, furnishes us examples of national loathing for the virtues of hospitality; and from this overwhelming accumulation of evidence and from our own reflections we are obliged to conclude that there is probably nothing more injurious nor more contrary to one’s well-being and to that of others than a rule whose purpose is to bind the rich man to give asylum to the poor whereof the latter will never profit save to his ultimate and inevitable detriment and to the donor’s also. A man can enter a foreign land for one of only two reasons: because of his curiosity, or because he is in search of dupes; in the first case, he must be made to pay for his entertainment; in the second, he must be punished.”
“Oh, Minski!” I replied, “you persuade me; the maxims I have long embraced upon charity, upon benevolence, are too similar to yours upon hospitality for me not to concur in the opinions you have just expounded. But there is yet another thing concerning which I would be grateful for your advice: Augustine, whose attachment to me was of several years’ standing, is survived by aged parents, they are needy and quite unable to shift for themselves; as we were starting upon our journey she mentioned them to me and asked me not to forget them if perchance some mishap were to befall her during our absence from home; do you think I should settle a pension upon them? …”
“Certainly not,” Minski was quick to answer, “by what right would you presume to do any such thing? And for their part, what claim can the parents of your late friend make to your bounty? You paid that girl wages, did you not, you maintained her the whole while she was in your hire; what connection does that establish between you and her parents? You owe them absolutely nothing, and neither, for that matter, did she. If, as I would judge from your philosophy you must, you have a clear idea of the nothingness of the fraternal bond alleged to subsist among men; if you have sufficiently pondered that idea and from it drawn the obvious conclusions, you cannot help but realize, first of all, that between Augustine and the services she rendered you there is no possible relation: for services, being of a temporal nature, exist only in the performance, and she who performed these is no longer able to perform at all. You are sensible of the distinction; and so must agree that any identification of the one with the other is founded upon flimsy illusion; the only real feeling that can remain to us for a departed servitor would be gratitude; and you know that no proud spirit can ever be grateful: he who refuses a service offered by another or who, having accepted one, considers himself in no wise beholden to a benefactor who acted for none but his own pride’s sake; he, I say, is far more of a man than the ignominious fellow who, willingly donning the shackles of indebtedness, prepares his benefactor the pleasure of parading his victim like a captive at a triumph; no, I shall say more, and though you may have heard it said already, it cannot be repeated too often: one ought normally to desire the death of the benefactor from whom one is not yet discharged of obligation, and I am never surprised to hear of accounts being settled by a murder. Oh, Juliette, how greatly do study and deep thought improve our understanding of the human heart; and how great becomes our determination to defy human principles once we come to know the being who devised them, for they are all of man’s making, and in the name of what do you call upon me to respect that which is no more than the handiwork of somebody no better than I? Yes, this subject once thoroughly explored and pondered, many crimes which would look atrocious to simpletons and leave them aghast, appear perfectly unpretentious and natural to us: let word get about that Tom, in pressing need of money, received a hundred louis from Dick and then for all his thanks plunged a knife into Dick’s breast, and watch your vulgar mob go quite berserk, hear those idiots shout murder and bawl for justice. Aye, they shout, they bawl; and the fact remains that this murderer is of a finer cut and nobler soul than his adversary, since the one, in obliging, did nought but defer to his pride while the other could not endure to see himself humbled; here we have ingratitude in the form of a splendid deed. Ah, frail mortals! how blindly you proceed with the sorting of your virtues and your vices, and how quickly the complexion of your scheme is reversed, black turned into white, day into night under the most superficial examination; you cannot imagine, Juliette, the insuperable tendency I have always had to ingratitude, it is the virtue of my heart, and never has anyone attempted to oblige me but I have been revolted by the prospect: once upon a time someone proposed me his services and, repressing my fury, I said to him, ‘Have a care, my friend, things will go ill between us if I accept your rash offer.’
“This act of charity you are meditating with regard to Augustine’s necessitous parents would have all the disadvantageous aspects presented by pity and compassion, feelings to which, as it appears to me, you are not much addicted. Charity makes for nothing but dupes, Juliette, benevolence nothing but foes; believe what I say, my doctrine is sound, only adhere to it and you shall never have cause to complain of me.”
“Such principles suit my character and have been responsible for my felicity,” said I to the giant; “virtue has always appalled me, never has it given rise to pleasure for me.” And to lend weight to these statements I related how a moment of virtuousness had once reduced me to rag and ruin and all but cost me my life.
“I have no such reproach to make to myself,” Minski declared, “and since earliest childhood my heart has never for a single moment been assailed by these abject sentiments whose effects are so dangerous; I hate virtue as I hate religion. I consider the one as deadly as the other, and I shall never be seen in their clutches. My only regret, as I have already confessed to you, is that I have too few crimes to my credit; crime is my element, it and it alone sustains me and inspires me, it is my sole reason for living, and mine would become a sorry and aimless existence if I were to cease committing at least one crime an hour.”
“From what you tell me I wager you must have been the executioner of your family.”
“Alas. My father escaped me, and I have not yet got over it. I never had a fair try at him, he died while I was still too young. However, all the rest perished by my hand; I have related the killing of my mother and sister, often I have wished they were alive again so that I might have the pleasure of butchering them anew. What’s left for me these days? I have nothing but ordinary victims to sacrifice, my heart grows heavy, all pleasures fade, they pall, the enjoyment is gone—”
“Oh, Minski,” I cried, “to the contrary, I deem you a happy man; I too have tasted those delights, although not to such an extent…. My friend, your reminiscences, your remarks stir me beyond words; I would ask you a favor: to let me rove through your castle’s hundred halls, to dally with your innumerable minions, open up to me this vast field of crime, let me fertilize it with fuck and with cadavers.”
“I shall, but upon one condition. I don’t propose to sodomize you, it would be your ruin; but I demand the total cession of that young man,” said Minski, and it was to Zephyr he referred.
My hesitation lasted an instant…. The icy point of a stiletto tingled upon my breast.
“Choose,” that fierce man bade me, “between death and the pleasures my house can afford you.”
Yes, despite my fondness for Zephyr, I surrendered him—could I do otherwise?
Part Four
We removed to another apartment. A magnificent repast of exotic fruits, of pastries, of milk and of warm beverages was presented by a swarm of half-naked boys who, as they brought around the plates, cut a thousand merry capers, performed a thousand little naughtinesses one more libertine than the other. My two men and I breakfasted heartily. As for Minski, he was served solider stuff: eight or ten virgins-blood sausages and two testicle pasties took the edge off his hunger, eighteen magnums of Greek wine accompanied those victuals into his enormous belly. He picked baseless quarrels with a dozen of his little pages, lashed six of them to ribbons, pounded the other six senseless with his fists. When one boy resisted him,
the dastard broke both his arms like matchsticks, and that just as calmly as making the simplest gesture; he stabbed two more, and we began our tour of inspection.
The first room we came to was large, billeted in it were ten-score women, aged twenty to thirty-five. Upon our entering, and this was the time-honored custom, two executioners laid hold of a victim and hanged her naked before our eyes. Minski went up to the dangling creature, felt her buttocks, bit them; in the meantime all the other women drew smartly up in six rows. We walked up and down the ranks to have a nearer view of the women constituting them. These women were dressed in such a manner that none of their charms were concealed: a simple drape of tulle left their breasts and buttocks exposed, but their cunts were not visible at all, Minski preferring to be spared the sight of a shrine in which he was little given to performing his devotionals.
Leading off this room was another, not quite so spacious and containing twenty-five beds; this was the infirmary for women who had been injured by the ogre’s intemperances or who fell ill.
“Should the indisposition become serious,” Minski said to me as he opened one of the windows, “I transfer them to the outdoor ward.”
Fancy our surprise when, peering into the courtyard below, we discovered it crowded with bears, lions, leopards, and tigers.
“Indeed,” said I, “such leeches must very shortly relieve anybody of what ails him.”
“Oh yes. Down there they’re cured in the twinkling of an eye. It is rapid, it is tidy, it avoids contamination of the air. A sickly woman, one wasted by disease can be of no use to lewdness; better to be rid of her at once, I believe. And one saves money; for you will agree, Juliette, defective females are not worth what it costs to keep them alive.”
In all the other seraglios it was the same hanging, the same inspection of the ranks.
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