Death on the Installment Plan

by Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  I did as I was told. I couldn’t exactly make out what the joys of youth were, but they seemed to know … They would have massacred me without hesitation if I hadn’t recanted … If I expressed the slightest doubt or seemed to be running things down, they went right off the handle … They’d rather have seen me dead than hear me profane the gifts of heaven. My mother’s eyes went white with fury when I let myself be carried away! She’d have bashed me in the nose with anything that was handy just to make me stop … My only right was to rejoice! to sing hymns of praise! I was born under a lucky star! Imagine a miserable worm like me having parents who dedicated themselves exclusively … wasn’t that enough? … to the worries, the troubles, the tragic fatalities of existence … I was just a brute and nothing else! Silence! An unconscionable family burden! … My business was to do as I was told … to fix everything up sweet and nice again! To make amends for my faults and nauseating propensities! … The misery was all for them! if there was any complaining to do, that was their department! They were the ones who understood life! They were the ones with sensitive souls! Who was it that suffered atrociously? Under the most excruciating circumstances? From outrageous fortune? … It was they. They alone, always and forever. They didn’t want me meddling, even going through the motions of helping them … taking my small share … It was their absolute monopoly! That struck me as very unjust. We just couldn’t see eye to eye.

  They could talk and curse till they were blue in the face, I stuck to my convictions. I too felt myself to be a victim in every way. On the steps of the Ambigu, right near the Wallace fountain,* all these thoughts came back at me … It was all as plain as day! …

  If I’d finished pounding the sidewalks, another day wasted, I frankly aired my dogs … I smoked skinny little butts … I’d question the boys a little, the bums that hung around there, they always had plenty of dope and phony tips … They were big talkers … They’d seen all the ads, they knew about all the odd jobs … One of them was a tattooer, he clipped dogs on the side … They knew all the crummy rackets … the food market, the slaughterhouse, the wine market … They were as grimy as a railroad station, down at heel, crawling with dirt, they passed their crabs back and forth … That didn’t cramp their cock-and-bull stories … their bragging and bluffing … they’d split a gut telling about their connections … their triumphs, their fancy deals … One big delirious fantasy! … There was no limit to the dog they put on … and they were perfectly capable of pulling a knife … if anybody doubted they had a cousin in the Cabinet … or of chucking him in the Canal Saint-Martin … No claim was too wild … Even the cock-eyedest sandwichmen … had certain pet episodes in their lives that it wasn’t healthy to laugh at … Fairy tales drive people to crime even worse than liquor … they were so moth-eaten they had no teeth left to chew with, they’d sold their glasses … That didn’t prevent them from dishing out a line … You can’t imagine such hokum … I could gradually see myself getting to be exactly like them …

  It was about five in the afternoon when I suspended my efforts … called it a day … It was a good place to convalesce in, a regular resort … We’d give our feet a good rest … Ambigu Beach, catering to bums and down-and-outers. Some of them weren’t so lazy, but they figured it was better to drink up their luck than drag around in the heat. Which is easy enough to understand … All along the theater front, under the chestnut trees, there was a fence … handy to hang your stuff on … we took it nice and easy … we exchanged mugs of beer … There was white sausage “à la mode” and garlic and red wine and Camembert … on the ramp and the stairs it was like an academy … All kinds … They hadn’t changed much … since the days when I went out peddling for Gorloge … There were lots of little pimps, and dicks with plenty of time on their hands … stool pigeons of all ages … who made good money tipping off the cops … There’d always be a card game going on … And two or three bookies, trying to drum up trade … There were overage salesmen who’d turned in their sample cases … nobody was willing to hire them anymore … There were little fairies still too green for the Bois … One of them came around every day, his specialty was the urinals and especially the crusts of bread soaking in the drains … He told us his adventures … He knew an old Jew who was nuts about those babas … They’d go and eat the stuff together … One day they got caught … We didn’t see him for a couple of months … He was changed beyond recognition when he got back … The cops had given him such a going-over he was fresh out of the hospital … That shellacking had turned him inside out … He’d moulted in the meanwhile … He had a big bass voice … He’d let his beard grow … He’d given up eating shit.

  Another of the charms of the place was the procuress. She had a kid in long red stockings … she’d walk her up and down outside the Folies Dramatiques … They said she cost twenty francs … She’d have suited me fine … That was a fortune at the time … They didn’t even look in our direction … we were too crummy … We whooped at them, but it didn’t get us anywhere …

  We exchanged newspapers and the jokes we’d picked up on our rounds … The bad part of it was the crabs … Naturally I caught them too … Those cooties out in front of the Ambigu were a pestilence … The worst of all were the butt pickers that hung around the terraces of the cafés … A whole bunch of them would drop over to the Saint-Louis hospital for ointment … Then they’d go off together and rub it in …

  I can still see my straw hat, the reinforced boater, I always had it in my hand, it must have weighed a good two pounds … It was supposed to last me two years, if possible three … I wore it till I was drafted, which was in 1912. I took my collar off one more time, it had left a terrible mark, completely scarlet … All men had that red furrow around their necks in those days, they kept it until their dying day. It was like a magic sign.

  When we’d finished commenting on the ads, all those crazy come-ons, we’d start on the sports column, the tryouts at the Buffalo Stadium and the forthcoming six-day bicycle race, with Morin and pretty-boy Faber, who was the favorite … Those who preferred the horse races set up on the opposite corner … The little streetwalkers moseyed back and forth … They weren’t interested in us, they went on walking … We weren’t good for anything but talk, a bunch of no-soap artists …

  The very first motor buses, the marvelous Madeleine-Bastille with the high top-deck, gave it the works at that point … set off all their explosives to make it up the hill … It was some show, an uproar! They dashed boiling water against the Porte Saint-Martin. The passengers on the balcony took part in the performance … They were nuts. They could have capsized the whole thing the way they all leaned over on the same side at once in their ecstatic excitement … They clutched the tassels, the bars and knobs that ran around the railing … They shouted and cheered … Horses were a thing of the past, it was plain as day … It was only on bad roads that they still had a chance … Uncle Édouard had always said so … well, in front of the Ambigu, between five and seven, I witnessed the coming of Progress … but I still didn’t find a job … Every night I came home empty-handed … I couldn’t seem to find the boss who’d give me a new start in life … They wouldn’t take me as an apprentice, I was too old … And to be a-regular employee I was apparently much too young … I’d never get past the ungrateful age … And even if I talked English beautifully, it made no difference … They had no use for it… Foreign languages were only for the big shops … And there they didn’t take beginners … I was out of luck all along the line … any way I went about it … it was always the same old shit …

  Very gently, in small doses, I let my mother in on the ideas I’d been piling up … I told her my prospects didn’t look too brilliant … She wasn’t one to be discouraged … She’d begun to make other plans, this time for herself, something new, something more backbreaking than ever. She’d been thinking about it a long time and now she made up her mind … “You see, my boy, I won’t tell your father, so keep this to yourself … The poor man, it would
come as a terrible disappointment … He’s suffering enough already to see me miserable … But between you and me, Ferdinand, I don’t think our poor shop … sh-h … will ever pick up again … Hum, hum, I fear the worst. In our lace business … there’s no denying it … the competition has become impossible to meet … Your father doesn’t understand … He’s not right in the thick of it, day in day out … luckily, thank God for that … What you need nowadays isn’t a few hundred francs, but thousands and thousands, if you want to lay in a really up-to-date stock! Where can we find that kind of money? Who’s going to give us credit, I ask you? It’s only the big businesses that can afford it, the enormous stores … Our little shops are doomed … It’s only a question of time … a few years … or months maybe … It’s a desperate struggle for nothing … The big stores are crushing us … I’ve seen it coming for a long time … Even in Caroline’s day things were getting harder and harder … it’s nothing new … The slack season went on forever … longer each year … worse and worse … Well, my boy. one thing I’ve got is energy … you know that … We’ve got to get out of this mess! … Now here’s what I’m going to try as soon as my leg is better … if I could even go out a little. I’m going to one of the big firms and ask for a card … I won’t have any trouble … They’ve known me for years … They know I’m a go-getter … they know I’ve got plenty of gumption … They know your father and I are the soul of honesty … that they can trust us with anything … no matter what . . Yes, I don’t mind saying it … Marescal! … Bataille! … Roubique! … they’ve known me for thirty years … as a saleswoman and shopkeeper … I won’t have any trouble finding something … I don’t need any other references … I don’t like working for other people … But at present I have no choice … Your father won’t suspect … not a thing … I’ll tell him I’m going to see a customer … He won’t be any the wiser … I’ll go out as usual and I’ll always be back on time … Poor man, he’d hang his head for shame to think I was working for somebody else … He’d be humiliated … I want to spare him that … at all costs … He’d never get over it! … I wouldn’t know how to buck him up … His wife working for strangers! … Good lord! Even with Caroline it was almost more than he could bear … Anyway, he won’t know a thing! … I’ll make my rounds regularly … One day one street, the next day another … It’ll be a good deal simpler than this eternal balancing act … this acrobatics that’s killing us … Always batting our brains out … figuring out how to stop up holes … It’s infernal! It would be the end of us! We won’t have nearly as much worry … Pay here! Pay there! Will we make it? How awful! It’s torture … We won’t make much, but it’ll be regular … no more surprises, no more nightmares! That’s what we’ve always needed … A steady income! It’ll be a change from the last twenty years! What a rat race! Heavens above! Always running after five francs! … And the customers that never pay! You’ve hardly paid one bill when another one comes in … Oh yes, independence is all very fine! It was my dream, my mother’s too! But I can’t go on … We’ll make ends meet, you’ll see, if we all put our shoulders to the wheel … We’ll have our cleaning woman! since that’s what he wants … Besides, I need one. You couldn’t call it a luxury.”

  That was just what my mother wanted … some horrible new thing to do … something inconceivably difficult … Nothing could be too hard, too grueling! If she’d had her own way she’d have done everybody’s work. Run the shop … kept the whole family going all by herself … and the seamstress too …. She never tried to draw comparisons, to understand … As long as it was lousy work, as long as there was plenty of sweat and heartache, she was satisfied … That was her nature … Whether I ran myself ragged or not, it wouldn’t make a particle of difference … With a maid I was positive she’d work fifty times harder … She was really attached to her horrible fate … It wasn’t the same with me … I had a little worm in my conscience. But next to her I was a parasite … Maybe that came from my stay in Rochester, from doing nothing at the Merrywins … I’d got to be frankly lazy. Instead of chasing after work I’d just sit and think … When you come right down to it, my job hunting was pretty feeble … But when I saw a doorbell, I’d fold … I had no martyr’s blood in my veins … Hell no! I didn’t have the right attitude for a poor bastard … I kept putting things off till next day … I’d try a different neighborhood, not quite so hot, a little breezier … a little shadier … for my little bit of job hunting. I took a gander at the shops around the Tuileries … under those beautiful arcades … on the broad avenues … I thought I’d ask the jewelers if they could use a young man … I was baking in my jacket … They didn’t need anybody … In the end I stayed in the Tuileries … I’d pass the time of day with the floozies that were wandering around … I spent hours in the greenery … not doing a damn thing, just like in England, except I’d have a cup of water now and then and work the waffle machines, the little dials on cylinders … There was also the fellow with the cocoanut drink and the mechanical band by the hobbyhorses …

  That was all a long time ago … One evening I caught sight of my father … He was on the other side of the fence on his way to make his deliveries … To play it safe I stayed in the Carrousel … I hid between the statues … Once I went into the Louvre … It was free at the time … I didn’t dig the pictures, but up on the fourth floor I discovered the Navy Museum. I couldn’t drag myself away. I went regularly. I spent whole weeks there … I knew all the ship models by heart … I stood all alone by the showeases … I forgot all my troubles, all about jobs and bosses, the whole mess … There was nothing in my head but boats … Sailboats, even models of sailboats, send me frankly off my rocker … I’d have really liked to be a sailor … Papa too in his time … Our lives hadn’t panned out right … I had a pretty fair idea of what was what …

  When I came home at suppertime, he asked me what I’d been doing … why I was so late … Job hunting, I said … Mama had resigned herself. Papa grunted into his plate … He didn’t press the subject.

  They’d told my mother she could try her luck right away at the market in Le Pecq or even Saint-Germain, that now was just the time because of all the rich people … it was the new style … who were renting villas all over the hillside … They’d be sure to appreciate her lace for their bedroom curtains, their bedspreads, and those pretty little blinds … A golden opportunity …

  She hightailed it out there quick. For a whole week she traipsed up and down all the roads with her whole caboodle … From Chatou station almost as far as Meulan … always on foot and limping … Luckily the weather was marvelous! Rain would have been a disaster. She was delighted, she’d sold a good part of her white elephants, fringed point-lace and heavy Spanish shawls that had been in drydock since the Empire. The people in the villas were developing a taste for our genuine curios. They were in a hurry to furnish their houses … They kind of lost their heads … The view of Paris from the hillside made them optimistic, enthusiastic … My mother pushed hard, she followed up on her luck. Except one fine morning her leg wouldn’t move at all … That was the end of her foolishness, of her heroic treks … Even the other knee was on fire … It swelled up double …

  Capron came running … All he could do was take note of her condition … He threw up his arms to high heaven … An abscess was forming, there was no room for doubt … The joint was affected, it was swollen … Her fighting spirit was no use at all … She couldn’t move her rear end, she couldn’t change sides or lift herself, not even an eighth of an inch … She let out piercing screams … She sighed the whole time, not so much from the pain, she was as tough as Caroline, but because her ailment had got her down.

  It was a terrible defeat.

  Naturally we had to take on a cleaning woman … Our habits changed … Everything was at loose ends … Mama lay on her bed, my father and I did most of the work before we left in the morning, the sweeping, the carpets, the sidewalk outside our door, the shop … All of a sudden my dawdling, my hesitation, my
squirming were over … I had to get a wiggle on, to find some work in a hurry and p.d.q.

  Hortense, the cleaning woman, came in for an hour in the afternoon and for two hours after supper. She worked all day in a grocery store on the rue Vivienne next to the post office. She was a reliable soul … She made a little extra working for us … She was down on her luck, she had to sweat double, her husband had lost all their money trying to set himself up as a plumber. Besides she had two kids and an aunt dependent on her … She couldn’t ever sit down … My mother was riveted to her bed and had to listen to her whole story. One morning my father and I carried her down. We put her in a chair. We had to be very careful not to bump her on the stairs or drop her. We set her up in a corner of the shop, wedged in with cushions … so she could answer the customers … It was rough … And having to attend to her knee … and put on “vulnerary” compresses …

  As for looks, Hortense, even though she worked like an ox, was pretty crunchy … She herself always said that she denied herself nothing, especially in the way of food, her trouble was sleep! She had no time to go to bed … It was eating that kept her going, especially café au lait … She’d take at least ten cups a day … In her grocery store she ate enough for an army. Hortense was a card, her stories even made my mother laugh on her bed of pain … It made my father mad to find me in the same room with her … He was afraid I’d lay her … It’s true that I jerked off on account of her … who doesn’t? … but it really didn’t amount to much, nothing like England … I didn’t put the same frenzy into it, the flavor was gone, we were really too miserable for me to do things right … Hell and damnation! … I wasn’t in the mood anymore … It was awful to be on the rocks with the whole family … My head was pack-jammed full of worries… It was a worse headache finding me a job than before I went away … Seeing my mother’s distress, I started out again … I went looking for more addresses … I did the Boulevards inside out, the Sentier quarter, the streets around the stock exchange … Around the end of August that’s certainly the worst of neighborhoods … There’s none stinkier, more stifling … I pounded the stairs again with my collar, my tie, my butterfly bow, my armored boater … I haven’t forgotten a single nameplate … coming or going … Jimmy Blackwell and Careston, Exporters … Porogoff, Merchants … Tokima, Traders with Caracas and the Congo … Herito and Kugelprunn, commission merchants for India and the East Indies …