About this and that we spoke for some while and likewise recollected friends of the old days, but at length (and perchance ’twas two in the afternoon then) to the pension which he had recommended I with my parcels went and there a small chamber for four pesos a day took. A city as any other. Houses some very tall, others low. In narrow streets a crowd so big that one can hardly pass, and a multitude of vehicles. Roar, rattle, toot, bellow, air unbearably humid.
Those first days of mine in Argentina I shall ne’er forget. The next day when I wak’d in my closet there came through the wall the cry of an Old Man, groans and lamentations, and from his plaints this only “guerra, guerra, guerra” I understood. So newspapers in shrill voice announced the outbreak of war, but who could know aught for one says this, another that, and all will be washed away or will not, they are embattled or they are not, and so naught—yet Grey, Eerie as a field in rain.
The day was fair, serene. In the crowd lost, my Lostness I was enjoying and even to myself aloud I say: “Naught to the eel when the Crayfish takes a beating.” And there they are taking a Beating! In front of the News offices large swarms of people. I happened into a cheap hostelry to take sup and a “Bife” had for thirty ctvs., but say I (and still to myself): “The Greenfinch is healthy when the Ram is fleeced.” And there they are being fleeced! Later to the river I went and there empty, quiet, breeze whiffling and I say to myself: “So, the Linnet chirps whilst the Badger in a Trap strives nearly out of his skin.” And there nearly out of their skins … and beyond the Grange, beyond the Pond, beyond the Forest, awesome Yelling, Bellowing, Battling, Murdering, asking for mercy, granting no Pardon., and the Devil knows what, and perchance not even the Devil!
So say I: “Why me to the Legation; I will not go to the Legation, and since the Jade was Lean, let it Die.” And there they Die. Then say I: “By everything that belongs to me I swear, and my oath on’t, I will not meddle for ’tis not my Affair and if they are to perish, let them perish,” but my eyes fell on a tiny Insect that was climbing up a grass blade and I can see that this Insect in this Place and Time, at this very moment on that Shore, on that side of the Ocean, is likewise climbing and climbing, climbing and climbing, and then the most terrible fear overwhelmed me and methinks I had better go to the Legation, oh best to go, yes, I’ll go. I’ll go, Jesus Maria, I’ll go, I’d better go … and I went.
The Legation occupied a stately edifice in one of the more distingué streets. Having reached this edifice, I stopped there, and methinks go or not go as why should I go to the Bishop if from the Faith I am a backslider, a heretic, blasphemer. And presently a most terrible Vainglory, a Pride of mine that from my childhood has directed me against this Church of mine! Since not for this my Mother gave birth to me, not for this my Mind, Sublimity, my Art and the incomparable flights of my Nature; not for this the penetrating Sight, proud Forehead, Thought acute, passionate, so that. I would in this homely Church, Worse, Littler, serve at Mass, oh haply Worse, Shabbier, in a shabbier, paltrier Choir, stupefy myself with paltry, middling incense along with other homely Homefolk of mine! Oh no, no, not for this am I Gombrowicz to kneel before the Altar dark, murky, and haply even Mad (but that Beating), no, no, I will not go, who knows what they can do to me (but Firing), no, no, I fain would not go there, poor, paltry Affair (but Slaughtering, Slaughtering!). And in Slaughter, in blood, in Battle, I entered the edifice.
And there quiet and a big Stairway cushioned with carpet. At the entrance a porter bowed me in and up the stairway to the Secretary led me. On the first floor a large hall with columns, quite dusky, cool, and only through the windows’ coloured panes bunches of rays burst in and on cornices, heavy stucco-work, and gildings perch. Out to me came Podsrócki, the Counsellor, in a dark blue black Suit, High Hat and gloves and, lightly raising his High Hat, half aloud the reason for my visit enquired. When I said that I would like to talk to His Excellency the Envoy, he asked: “To His Excellency the Envoy?” Then say I, “To His Excellency the Minister,” and says he: “To the Minister, to Pan Minister himself you wish to speak?” When I say, indeed, with His Excellency the Envoy I would speak, in these words he answered, lowering his head towards his breast: “Are you saying, with the Envoy, with Pan Envoy himself?” So say I, indeed with Pan Minister, as I have an important matter; then says he: “Ah! Not the Counsellor, not the Attaché, not the Consul, but the Minister himself you wish to see? But wherefore? For what purpose? And whom do you know here? And who are you? Who are your friends? Whom do you visit?” In this manner he started to interrogate me and more and more keenly to Spring at me, spring, and at last he started Searching me and took some string out of my pocket. Suddenly the far door opened and His Excellency the Envoy looked out and, since I was already known to him, Beckoned to me: upon this beckoning the Counsellor, gushing with bows and wagging his Rump and flirting with his High Hat, led me into the office.
Minister Kosiubidzki Feliks was one of the strangest people I’ve come upon in my life. Lean-Plumpy, somewhat fatty, he had a nose likewise rather Lean-Plumpy, an eye vague, fingers Slim-Plumpy and belike a Leg Slim and plumpy or fatty, and that Bald-pate of his as of Brass over which he combed his black-red hairs; he was wont to flash his eye and every now and then he flashes it. By his behaviour and bearing he displayed extraordinary respect for his high dignity and by his every movement upon himself bestowed honour, and likewise continuously, mightily honoured by his Selfness the one he was talking to, so that one spoke to him almost on one’s Knees. Instantly then, having burst into tears, I threw myself down at his feet and kissed his hand; and my services, blood, fortune offering, begged him to make use of me and place me at his disposal in this holy moment, according to his holy will, his reckoning. Most kindly honouring me and himself by his holy listening, he blessed and flashed at me, then says: “I cannot give you more than 50 pesos (he took out his purse). I shan’t give you more since more I have not. But if you fain would go to Rio de Janeiro and hold to the Legation there, then I’ll pay your fare and even add something to be quit of your hold as I would have no Writers here: they just Milk you and Bark at you. So get ye to Rio de Janeiro, I counsel you well.”
Ergo that Surprise, Astonishment of mine! Again I threw myself down at his feet and (thinking he misunderstood me) offered my person. Says he then: “Ah, well, well, here have 70 pesos and Milk me no more for I am not a cow.”
I see that he is fobbing me off with Cashes, and not just cashes but Small Coins! At such an Insult to me the blood rushes to my head, but naught say I. Presently I do say: “I see that for you, Your Excellency, very small I must be since you, Your Excellency, thus fob me off with Small Coins and belike number me with Ten Thousand writers and I am not just a writer but Gombrowicz!”
He asked: “And which Gombrowicz?” Say I: “Gombrowicz, Gombrowicz.” Flashes and says: “Well, if Gombrowicz, have 80 pesos here and come no more—the War and Pan Minister is busy.” “The War,” I say. He says: “The War.” Say I: “The war.” He to this: “The War.” So I to him: “The War, the war.” He took fright in earnest so that his cheeks went white, flashed his Eye: “What? Have you any tidings? Has anyone told you aught? Any news?” … but checked himself: hems, coughs, scratches behind his ear and gives me a Pat: “Naught, naught, be not worried, we will vanquish the enemy!” And he instantly cried more loudly: “We will vanquish the enemy!” Then he cried more loudly still: “We will vanquish the enemy! We will!” He rose and cried: “We Will! We Will!”
Hearing these exclamations of his and seeing that he rose from his armchair to make Celebrations, even Exhortations, I fell on my knees and, in this holy Celebration enjoining myself, I did cry: “We will vanquish! We will, we will!”
He drew a breath. Did flash his eye. Did say: “We will, by my troth. I say this to you, and I say this so you cannot say that I was saying that we would not Vanquish, since I say to you that we will Vanquish, will Win, for we will reduce to dust with our mighty, gracious hand—smash, crush to dust, powder, with Sa
bres, Lances anatomize, annihilate, and under our Colours and in our Majesty, oh Jesus Maria, oh Jesus, oh Jesus … we will grind, Kill! Oh, we will kill, anatomize, demolish! And why are you staring so? I tell you indeed, we will annihilate! Indeed you can see, you can hear the Minister himself, the Gracious Envoy is telling you we will Annihilate; perchance you can see that the Envoy himself, the Minister, is pacing here before you, waving his hands and telling you that we will Annihilate! And don’t you dare bark thus: that I didn’t Pace before you, that I didn’t Say, as you see that I do Pace and Say!”
Here he became surprised, gave me an Ox-Eyed glance and said:
“And ’tis I who before you Pace, Speak!”
Then he said:
“And ’tis the Envoy himself, the Minister who before you Paces, Speaks … So you can’t be just a Cipher if His Excellency the Envoy himself is sitting with you for such a long time and is also Pacing before you, Speaking, even exclaiming … Sit you down, sit you down. And how do I call you, pray?”
“Gombrowicz,” I say. Says he: “Oh yes, yes, I’ve heard, I’ve heard… How could I not have heard if I am Pacing before you, Speaking… One should come to your aid somewhat, Your Honour, since I am aware of my duty towards our National Literature and as Minister needs must come to your aid. Ergo, as you are an author, I could have you write for the papers here some articles, the which would praise, glorify our Great Authors and Geniuses; and for this, to beat a Krakowian bargain, I’ll pay you 75 pesos a month … as more I cannot. A tailor cuts to the cloth. A dam is fitted to the pond! You can praise Copernicus, Chopin or Mickiewicz … Fear God, we have to praise Our Own else we will be swallowed!” Cheered, “Well said,” he says, “and ’tis most Appropriate for me as Minister and likewise for you as Author.”
But say I: “God reward thee … nay, nay.” He asks: “How nay? Thou wouldst fain not praise?” Quoth I: “I am full of Shame.” He cries: “How art thou full of shame?” Quoth I: “Shame, as our own!” Flash, flash, flash! “Why are you ashamed, sh.t!” he yells. “If we do not praise Our Own, who will?”
He drew a breath and said: “Know you not that every foxe praises his own tail?”
Said I, “I beseech your grace, Your Excellency, but I am exceeding full of shame.”
Says he: “Have you Be-assed yourself, turned utterly Stupid, do you not see there’s War and now, in this moment, Great Men are needed post-haste as without them the Devil knows what may happen, and I am Minister so as to add to the Greatness of our Nation. Oh, what am I to do with you, I will haply dust your Muzzle …” But he broke off, Flashed again, and says: “Wait. So you are a Writer? What have you scribbled? Books?” He called out “Podsrocki, Podsrocki, come in here,” and when Counsellor Podsrocki hurried in, he flashed at him and then talks with him and Flashes at me. I hear only that they say: “Chitsh.t.” And again: “Chitsh.t.” Whereupon the Counsellor says to the Minister: “Chitsh.t.” Minister to Counsellor: “He certainly must be a chitsh.t, but the Eye, the nose good!” Says the Counsellor: “The Eye, the nose fair, although he is a Chitsh.t, and the forehead good too!” Says the Minister: “Chitsh.t and naught else for all of you are chitsh.ts. I am a Chitsh.t too, Chitsh.t, but Chitsh.ts they are likewise, and who will Perceive, who knows aught, nobody knows aught … who can understand aught, sh.t, sh.t.”
“Sh.t,” says the Counsellor. “Let him come out!” says the Minister. “I will Pace a bit and then Wham.” And I see he has begun to Pace and is Pacing, Pacing around the salon, frowning, stooping, snuffling, soughing, swaggering, until he Hooted and Flashed: “’Tis an honour for us! An honour since we are hosts to the Great Polish Author, perchance the Greatest! A great Author of ours, perchance even a Genius! Why are you gaping, Podsrocki? Greet the great Sh … that is … eh … Shining Genius of ours!”
Here the Counsellor makes a low bow to me!
Here His Excellency the Minister bows to me.
Here, seeing that they are scoffing at me, celebrating their joke, in my sore abuse I would fain beat this man! But an armchair the Minister is offering me! My boot Podsrocki, the Counsellor, is licking! My health the Minister-Envoy himself is asking, but at a 36-dollar black felt Hat is looking. His services the Counsellor is proffering! Now my desires and demands His Excellency the Envoy is enquiring! Now my inscription in the Visitors’ Book the Counsellor is beseeching! Now my arm the Minister is taking to lead me around the salon, and the Counsellor is hopping around me, flitting to and fro! And the Minister: “’Tis a feast day—Gombrowicz our guest!” And Podsrocki, the Counsellor: “Gombrowicz is a guest of ours, the Genius Gombrowicz himself.” The Minister: “Genius of that Glorious Nation of ours!” Podsrocki: “Great Man of that great Nation of ours!”
So ’tis a strange, the strangest Event for me and Affair of mine! As I wit indeed that they are chitsh.ts who deem me a chitsh.t and all this is sh.t, sh.t, and fain would I knock the Noddles of those chitsh.ts … Albeit, indeed that’s no one else but the Envoy himself, the Minister, and likewise the Counsellor … and from this that Shyness of mine, timorousness of mine when such important Personages make obeisance and do honour to me. And whilst in this Salon the Minister along with the Counsellor is flitting around me, Honouring me, whilst they are scurrying behind me, I, knowing the high Office, dignity, weight of these Chitsh.ts, could not free myself, flee all those honours! Like a plum in dung!
Thereupon the Envoy drew a breath and said, and more benevolently now: “But remember, you chitsh.t, that you have been properly honoured by the Legation, and now take care not to bring shame upon us with the people as we will shew you forth to People, Foreigners, as Great Sh.t Genius Gombrowicz. Propaganda requires this and it should be known that our Nation has geniuses in abundance. Will we not shew this, huh, Podsrocki?” “We’ll shew it,” said the Counsellor. “We will. Chitsh.ts they are and naught will they perceive!”
Only in the street did I give vent to my churned up feelings! Oh what, how, whence, what has happened?! Oh, it seems that I am caught again, caught! Oh Jesus, oh God, again I am caught up in my Life as a foxe in a snare! Never then will I liberate myself from my Lot? Must I repeat again that Eternal Lot of mine and Prison of mine?! And when my Past tosses me to and fro as a straw, when bygone Maelstroms resurge, I like a horse am straining, like a lion am rippling, Roaring, in fury with my paws am beating, with my whole self beating against the bars of a new prison! Oh, why did I go to that damned Legation?! So the chitsh.ts take a fancy to Greatness. They need Greatness, Geniuses, great Heroes to shew forth before People and belike we have that Genius Gombrowicz, hence how significant we are, what glory ’tis for us, and what merit, what a Palace of ours, what furnishings, harnesses, grandeur and tinsel; so Fear God and let not our buttocks be beaten as that Genius Gombrowicz we have!
With this churlish turn His Excellency the Envoy sh.t sh.t would lather the eyes of the people, Foreigners, thinking rightly that he could easily convince those Americans, and if he bows low to me he will have me rise before the People like pastry. It cannot be so! Naught of this! And in that most terrible rage of mine over and over I dismissed, drove out, out with a cudgel, a club, out that Minister sh.t sh.t sh.t, out! Be damned the Minister sh.t who has no respect for his Nation! Be damned the nation that has no respect for its Sons! Be damned the man and Nation that have no respect for themselves! And I, distraught, the Minister, offices all, honours, titles, times of ours, life of ours, Nation, Country sh.t sh.t sh.t dissipating, devastating, with a club, a cudgel hurtling, again that paid Minister chitsh.t dismissed; and when some 50 or 60 times I had dismissed him, dissipated him, I kept dismissing him and dispensing with him over and over again! But then I noticed that I was causing laughter amongst the passers-by who gave me looks.
The pressing state of my Finances compelled me to act; and presently I must go to Florida Street where I am to meet Cieciszowski. Florida Street, as I have already mentioned, of all streets of the city the most luxurious; shops there, comely Establishments of all kinds there, ca
fés, confiseries there; vehicles forbidden there, flocks of strollers there; with sun made bright, it sparkles, shimmers, swaggers with a peacock’s tail.
My inborn shyness and perchance some Embarrassment as well did not allow me to give Cieciszowski a more detailed report of what had happened with the Minister, so I mentioned only that we had parted in anger. “Oh!” he exclaimed, twiddling his thumbs. “Why did you go there; I told you not to go there, but perchance you did well to Go there! ’Tis good you wiped his nose, or perchance ’tis Not good, since, oh, now he will yours, Woebegone, wipe, wipe, wipe! Hide yourself, hide in a mousehole, since if you do not hide yourself they will find you! But do not hide yourself, do not hide, I say, for if you hide they will seek you out, and if they seek you out they will find you …” But we, in conversation, are strolling along Florida Street! There behind the vitrines the wealth glitters, lures the eye, hummy buzz, passers-by, bowing and greeting.
Now and again that Cieciszowski of mine sends out to acquaintances a smile or a gesture or a low bow and says to me quietly: “Lookye, lookye—can you see Pani Rotfederowa? This is Director Pindzel, and this Chairman Kotarzycki. Hey, Chairman—Hola! Hola! This is Mazik, and this one Bumcik, this is Kulaski, and that one Polaski!” Beside him I likewise bow politely, cast smiles right and left, and Florida’s snake shimmers, Señoritas on parade!
“Lookye, Pani Klejnowa stands there! And that is Lubek, a clerk.” But thicker the swarm of people and they stop at vitrines, regard them, and when from one go, instantly to another go, and then one at Ties, yellow-grey, fashionable at 5.75 dollars, and Another with his Wife at a carpet, wine-red, Mottled, for 350, and a fourth at English Buckles at 99, a fifth at gadgets or a fan; she there at lingerie silk, frothy, she here at Shoes à la Nelson, pointed, with double soles, that one at a Pipe Tobacco Persian-Astrakhan, or a dinner Service, or else Cinnamon. At a valise, Yellow, chamois, for 320 they look and say: “What a valise!” But likewise a Bucket for 85—not bad either, or this Dressing Gown or that Shovel. “I would buy this sombrero for 7.20.—And I this ‘sweater.’—I could use that Thermometer or that Barometer.—Mercy, this umbrella with the bent handle costs 42 dollars and yesterday I saw a better one, English, for 38!” And so from shop to shop, at this and that Stared and Compared, and then again to another Shop and again Comparing and Staring.
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