Lincoln in the Bardo

by George Saunders

  hans vollman

  The putrid smell of wild onions pervaded that vicinity, progressing, in its density, toward a different, more sinister odor, for which there is no name.

  the reverend everly thomas

  He lay gazing up at us, dull-eyed, acquiescent.

  roger bevins iii

  It was over.

  the reverend everly thomas

  The lad must take his medicine.

  hans vollman

  We gathered around to say goodbye.

  roger bevins iii

  Imagine our surprise, then, when a woman’s voice rang out, offering a parley, suggesting that “HE” would have no objection if we wished to transport the boy back up to the roof, so that he might serve out his (infinite) interment there.

  the reverend everly thomas

  Mind you, none of this is by our choice, said a bass voice, with a slight lisp. We are compelled.

  roger bevins iii

  These voices seemed to be emanating from the carapace itself.

  hans vollman

  Which seemed comprised of people. People like us. Like we had been. Former people, somehow shrunken and injected into the very fabric of that structure. Thousands of writhing tiny bodies, none bigger than a mustard seed, twisting minuscule faces up at us.

  the reverend everly thomas

  Who were they? Who had they been? How had they come to be so “compelled”?

  roger bevins iii

  We won’t discuss that, said the woman’s voice. Will not discuss that.

  Mistakes were made, said the bass voice.

  hans vollman

  My advice? said a third, and British, voice. Do not massacre an entire regiment of your enemy.

  Never conspire with your lover to dispose of a living baby, said the bass lisper.

  roger bevins iii

  Rather than murdering your loved one with poison, resolve to endure him, said the woman.

  the reverend everly thomas

  Sexual congress with children is not permitted, said the voice of an old man, from Vermont, judging by his accent.

  hans vollman

  As each spoke, the associated face bloomed up out of the carapace for the briefest of instants, bearing upon it a look of agony and aggrievement.

  the reverend everly thomas

  We had seen many strange things here.

  roger bevins iii

  But this was the strangest yet.

  hans vollman

  Are you—are you in Hell? asked the Reverend.

  Not the worst one, said the British fellow.

  Are not compelled to bash our skulls against a series of clustered screw-drivers at least, said the woman.

  Are not being sodomized by a flaming bull, said the bass lisper.

  roger bevins iii

  Whatever my sin, it must, I felt (I prayed), be small, compared to the sins of these. And yet, I was of their ilk. Was I not? When I went, it seemed, it would be to join them.

  As I had many times preached, our Lord is a fearsome Lord, and mysterious, and will not be predicted, but judges as He sees fit, and we are but as lambs to Him, whom He regards with neither affection nor malice; some go to the slaughter, while others are released to the meadow, by His whim, according to a standard we are too lowly to discern.

  It is only for us to accept; accept His judgment, and our punishment.

  But, as applied to me, this teaching did not satisfy.

  And oh, I was sick, sick at heart.

  the reverend everly thomas

  What will it be then? said the Brit. In here? Or on the roof?

  hans vollman

  All eyes turned to the boy.

  roger bevins iii

  Who blinked twice but said nothing.

  hans vollman

  Perhaps, Mr. Bevins said. Perhaps you could make an exception.

  And from the carapace burst forth the sound of bitter laughter.

  He is a fine child, said Mr. Vollman. A fine child, with many—

  We have done this to many, many fine children before, said the woman.

  Rules are rules, said the Brit.

  But why, may I ask, said Mr. Bevins, should there be different rules for children than for the rest of us? It does not seem fair.

  From the carapace came outraged rebukes in diverse languages, many of which were utterly strange to us.

  Please do not speak to us of fairness, the woman said.

  Fairness, bah, said the Vermonter.

  Did I murder Elmer? the woman said.

  You did, said the Brit.

  I did, said the woman. Was I born with just those predispositions and desires that would lead me, after my whole preceding life (during which I had killed exactly no one), to do just that thing? I was. Was that my doing? Was that fair? Did I ask to be born licentious, greedy, slightly misanthropic, and to find Elmer so irritating? I did not. But there I was.

  And here you are, said the Brit.

  Here I am, quite right, she said.

  And here I am, said the Vermonter. Did I ask to be born with a desire to have sex with children? I don’t remember doing so, there in my mother’s womb. Did I fight that urge? Mightily. Well, somewhat mightily. As mightily as I could. As mightily as someone could who had been born with that particular affliction, in that particular measure. Upon leaving that previous place, did I attempt to make that case, to those who arraigned me?

  I expect that you did, the woman said.

  Of course I did, the Vermonter said indignantly.

  And how did they respond? asked the Brit.

  Not very well, the Vermonter said.

  We have had a great deal of time to think upon these matters, said the woman.

  Rather too much, said the Vermonter.

  Listen, the bass lisper intoned. At the time Marie and I did away with that baby, we felt ourselves to be working in the service of good. Honestly! We loved one another; the baby was not quite right; was an impediment to our love; its (his) stunted development impeded the natural expression of our love (we could not travel, could not dine out, were rarely given the slightest degree of privacy) and so it seemed (to us, at that time) that to remove the negative influence that was that baby (by dropping him into Furniss Creek) would free us up; to be more loving, and be more fully in the world, and would relieve him of the suffering entailed in being forevermore not quite right; would, that is, free him up from his suffering as well, and maximize the total happiness.

  It seemed that way to you, the Brit said.

  It did, it truly did, the bass lisper said.

  Does it seem that way to you now? the woman asked.

  Less so, the bass lisper said sadly.

  Then your punishment is having the desired effect, the woman said.

  the reverend everly thomas

  We were as we were! the bass lisper barked. How could we have been otherwise? Or, being that way, have done otherwise? We were that way, at that time, and had been led to that place, not by any innate evil in ourselves, but by the state of our cognition and our experience up until that moment.

  By Fate, by Destiny, said the Vermonter.

  By the fact that time runs in only one direction, and we are borne along by it, influenced precisely as we are, to do just the things that we do, the bass lisper said.

  And then are cruelly punished for it, said the woman.

  Our regiment was being badly cut up by the Baluches, the Brit said. But then the tide turned, and a mess of them surrendered to us, with a white flag, and, well—down into the ditch they went, and the men fired, upon my command (none of them unhappily, mind you), and we threw in their white flag on top of the savages and covered them up. How could I have done otherwise? With time flowing in only one direction and myself made just as I was? With my short temper and my notions of manhood and honor, my schoolboy history of being beaten to within an inch of my life by three older brothers, that rifle feeling so beautiful in my hands and our enemies appearing so loathsome? How was I (how
are any of us) to do other than that which we, at that time, actually do?

  And did that argument persuade? the woman said.

  You know very well, you tart, that it did not! the Brit said. For here I am.

  Here we all are, said the Vermonter.

  And ever shall be, said the Brit.

  Nothing to be done about it, said the bass lisper.

  Nothing ever to have been done about it, said the woman.

  roger bevins iii

  Glancing over, I saw a look pass over the Reverend’s face—a flicker of resolve, or defiance.

  hans vollman

  To be grouped with these, accepting one’s sins so passively, even proudly, with no trace of repentance?

  I could not bear it; must I, even now, be beyond all hope?

  (Perhaps, I thought, this is faith: to believe our God ever receptive to the smallest good intention.)

  the reverend everly thomas

  Enough, the Vermonter said.

  Down to business, said the woman. We have wasted too much effort on this one already.

  The previous one? said the Brit. The girl? Much more amenable.

  Wonderful child, said the woman. Completely passive.

  Never gave us a bit of trouble, said the Brit.

  Had our way with her just as pretty as you please, the bass lisper said.

  Then again, she did not have all of this “help,” said the Vermonter.

  True, the Brit said. No one helped her a single bit.

  Young man? the woman said. Is it to be here? Or on the roof?

  roger bevins iii

  The lad was silent.

  hans vollman

  On the roof, the Reverend said. If you please.

  Very well, said the woman.

  The carapace fell away at once, and the boy was free.

  roger bevins iii

  If I might request the honor of carrying him up there? the Reverend said.

  Certainly, the woman said.

  hans vollman

  I reached down, picked the boy up.

  Ran.

  Out of the crypt and into the night.

  Ran-skimmed.

  Ran-skimmed like the wind.

  Toward the only place that now held the slightest hope of affording him refuge.

  the reverend everly thomas

  LXXXII.

  Joyful, joyful!

  An exceedingly bold stroke!

  roger bevins iii

  Bastard! the woman cried out wearily.

  hans vollman

  Mr. Vollman and I ran-skimmed out of the white stone home in pursuit of the Reverend.

  roger bevins iii

  A low wave burst out behind us, a moving knee-high wall comprised of whatever substance the demonic beings happened to be inhabiting in that instant (grass, dirt, headstone, statue, bench)—

  hans vollman

  Which passed us now—

  roger bevins iii

  (Like children in the surf, we were lifted, then set down again.)

  hans vollman

  —and overtook the Reverend.

  roger bevins iii

  Who, slapped and harangued by the matter-blur that plashed up all about him, broke down the small hill near the gardener’s shed.

  hans vollman

  The chapel now coming into sight, we suddenly understood his intention.

  roger bevins iii

  The demonic beings split into two divisions, as it were, coming up fast on either side of the Reverend, then performed a crossing maneuver, at knee level, tripping him up.

  hans vollman

  As he fell, to protect the boy, he instinctively rolled on to his back, so as to absorb the brunt of the impact.

  roger bevins iii

  And they had him.

  hans vollman

  Had them.

  They sought the boy but, seeking the boy, pinioned the Reverend as well.

  roger bevins iii

  In their frenzy it appeared they were no longer capable of, or interested in, distinguishing between reverend and lad.

  hans vollman

  By the time we reached the Reverend and the boy, the two were bundled tightly together within a rapidly solidifying new carapace.

  roger bevins iii

  The Reverend’s terrible cries sounding from within.

  hans vollman

  They have me! he shouted. They have even me! I must—I must go! Good God! Mustn’t I? Or be trapped like this, forever—

  Go, yes, by all means, save yourself, dear friend! I shouted. Go!

  But I don’t want to! he shouted. I am afraid!

  The choked, garbled quality of his voice told us that the carapace had reached his mouth, and then it seemed it had penetrated even into his brain, and was making him delirious.

  That palace, he shouted at the very end. That dreadful diamond palace!

  roger bevins iii

  Then, from inside the carapace, came the familiar, yet always bone-chilling, firesound associated with the matterlightblooming phenomenon.

  hans vollman

  And the Reverend was gone.

  roger bevins iii

  The Reverend’s departure creating a temporary vacuity within the carapace—

  hans vollman

  Mr. Vollman gave the thing a tremendous kick, and caved it in.

  roger bevins iii

  As we fell enraged upon it, digging and clawing, I could feel the demonic beings within looking askance at us, repulsed by our ferocity, our revived human proclivity for hatred-inspired action. Mr. Bevins drove one arm in up to the elbow. From the other side, I was able to puncture the carapace with a long bough, and situating myself beneath that bough drove up with my knees, and the carapace split open, and Mr. Bevins was able to get his two arms fully inside. Letting out a shout of exertion, he began to pull, and soon, like a foal newly born (as wet, as untidy), the lad tumbled out, and for a second we were able to clearly observe, inside the ruptured carapace, the imprint of the Reverend’s face, which had not, I am happy to say, in those final instants, reverted back to the face we had so long associated with him (badly frightened, eyebrows high, the mouth a perfect O of terror), but, rather, his countenance now conveyed a sense of tentative hopefulness—as if he were going into that unknown place content that he had, at any rate, while in this place, done all that he could.

  hans vollman

  Mr. Vollman snatched up the boy and dashed away.

  The demonic beings, flowing out of the remains of the carapace into the earth, gave chase.

  Soon, from below, Mr. Vollman’s ankles were cuffed, and he tumbled to his knees, and the demonic beings, forming again into tendrils, shot rapidly up his legs and torso and began pioneering out on to his arms.

  I raced over, plucked the boy away, dashed off.

  And within seconds was myself overrun.

  roger bevins iii

  I leapt to my feet, raced over, plucked the lad away from Mr. Bevins, dashed off toward the chapel, and, just before I was again overrun, managed to fall forward, through the northernmost side-wall.

  I know this place, the lad mumbled.

  I expect you do, I said. We all know it.

  For many of us, the chapel had served as our portal; our place of disembarkation; the last place we had ever been taken seriously.

  hans vollman

  The earth around the chapel began to roil.

  Even here? I said. Outside this most holy place?

  Holy, unholy, all the same to us, said the Brit.

  Have a job to do, said the Vermonter.

  Are compelled, said the woman.

  Go in, send him out, said the Brit.

  You merely delay, said the Vermonter.

  We are gathering our strength, said the Brit.

  Shall be in shortly, said the woman.

  With a vengeance, said the Vermonter.

  Send him out, snapped the lisper.

  roger bevins iii

  Mr. Bevins had just stepped i
n through the wall when, from the darkness at the front of the chapel, a pronounced manly throat-clearing told us we were not alone.

  Mr. Lincoln sat in the front row of chairs, where he must have sat during the previous day’s service.

  hans vollman

  LXXXIII.

  Tom as we neared front gate Pres catching sight of chapel said he thought he might go over and sit in that quiet place a bit if I did not mind and confided in me that he felt his boy was still here with him and could not shake that feeling but perhaps a few minutes sitting silent in that place of prayer might do the trick.

  Declined my offer of lantern saying he would not need it for he saw pretty good in the dark and always had and went off through that very space only yesterday filled with the many hundreds standing on the lawn in the drizzle in their black coats and upraised umbrellas and the sounds of the sad organ from within and I returned to guardhouse which is where I am now writing this while outside his poor little horse’s eager hoofs sound against the cobblestone as if his master’s proximity causing him to do a stationary horse dance preparatory to long ride home.

  Pres in chapel yet.

  Manders, op. cit.

  LXXXIV.

  The stained-glass windows responded dully but substantially to the dim moonlight shining through them.

  hans vollman

  Suffusing all with a bluish tint.

  roger bevins iii

  All but the first few rows of chairs had been removed since the previous day’s service, and these were somewhat disordered.