Rigadoon

by Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  “No syntax, no style! he doesn’t say anything any more! he doesn’t dare!”

  Ah, the turpitude! that’s a shameless lie! … I’ve got oodles of style! … that’s right! … what’s more, I’ll make the rest of them unreadable! … every last one of them! wilted impotents! rotten with prizes and manifestoes! I can lay my plans in all security, the epoch belongs to me! I am Literature’s favorite child! anyone who doesn’t imitate me is through! … no doubt about it! okay, let’s see where we are! gutted barrels, flooded terraces and urinals! vast despair! ah, grand crosses of all the Legions, super washouts, eminent jerks! … I’d feel sorry for you if I could, but I can’t … not any more! … what can I do with all these snivelers … and their “studio-light” pseudo-fin-de-siècle chromos … I told them to go out and get some fresh air, they wouldn’t listen, serves them right! let them rot, stink, ooze, end up in the sewer … they keep wondering what they can do in Gennevilliers° … easy! fertilize the fields! … why should I worry my head about the sewer? they’ll get there and produce the sludge that’s needed … I see Mauriac, the cancerous old drip, without glasses in his new look maxi-cape, the family idol, “work hard, my dear child, and you’ll grow up to be like him” … tartufferie and neoplasm, the perfect formula for success under every regime … every cockeyed state … drums and trumpets! taraboom! guts, epiploons, and cerebellums all over the sawdust… the true sense of History … and what we’ve come to! jumping this way! … whoops! and that way! … the death dance! impalements! purges! vivisections! … twice-tanned hides, smoking … spoiled skulking voyeurs, let it all start over again! guts ripped out by hand! let’s hear the cries, the death rattles … a national orgasm!

  “Hey there! you’ve gone off your rocker!”

  “Absolutely!”

  “Haven’t you seen anything on these docks? be serious! tracks? … at least a crane or two?”

  “Oh yes … a crane lying on its ear … and railroad switches … smashed to pieces …”

  “So what’s next?”

  We’re heading for the city, that’s what! seeing there’s nothing left of the harbor … except for these ships with their ass out of the water … don’t make me repeat myself … I’ve said it twenty times … a hundred times … we … you know, Lili, Bébert, me, Felipe the Italian, and the kids … how many? I’d say seven … no! at least ten! … or fifteen … I’m not going to start counting them again! … let ‘em come if they want to! the stinking brats! … and these people off the flatcars, what country are they from? they’re whispering to each other … not in German or Russian … maybe Hungarian … I never found out … you go near them, not another word! … I don’t know who they take us for … never found that out either … so forward march! the kids are looking at the ships … but not the least bit surprised … no effect at all … drooling neither more nor less … I wouldn’t exactly say they talk to each other … sounds come out of them, parts of words, and plenty of slobber and bubbles … two of them bark kind of … they’re willing to come along, which is something … the city and the big clouds of smoke don’t scare them … even the explosions … we’re hearing more and more of them … not concussion bombs … no, time bombs … I know all about them … there, maybe two hundred yards ahead I see the first big ruins … at the end of the basin, by the locks … looking back we can see the whole crowd … the ones that have stayed on the flatcar … they see us too, but they don’t want to join us … they’d have a good laugh if something blew us up … say, there it is! … I’d been wandering again … we’re in Hamburg … the city proper … I’d lost my bearings … I ought to be used to mashed-up cities, where you don’t know which end is which … there I think it was the Sankt Pauli district … more than a district, practically another city, devoted to nothing but pleasure, nothing but whorehouses and fish-and-chipperies … my giggles came in handy! … I’ve known other ports of call with about as many fish-and-chipperies, dance halls, and floor shows … my first comparison would be the Brousbir° in Casablanca … rue Bouteru° didn’t amount to much … Sankt Pauli was something … Chatham, Rochester, and Stroude may have been more impressive, especially on Saturday night, when all the garrisons were on pass and the fleet was in, troops and crews on the binge … and believe me, those uniforms from navy blue to scarlet, from lemon-yellow to mignonette … the grandiose palette of the Empire … the whole enormous Saturday night Rochester Chatham waterfront reeling with colors and whiskey … soldiers and sailors ranting, roaring, fighting … and don’t forget the acetylene light … so raw, so brutal it pretty near tears their faces in two … and the Salvation Army singing about their hopes … “God’s acoming!” … right in the middle of the orgy! … harmonium and trombones … their Miss Heyliett° in her black bonnet does a bit of hymn-singing herself … a duet with the old woman that’s dishing out soup … by the bucket … surrounded by ex-longshoremen and down-and-outers, both sexes … it’s the weekend for them too … but that’s enough publicity for the enchantments of other times … other ports … I’ll get back to you! all well and good about my head, the clout with the brick, the blood coming out of my ear and et cetera … there are limits! respect the reader if you please! right you are! … all the same I’d like to point out … I take the liberty … that the smells are lacking, the aroma of chips, tobacco, and sweat … and of all those people, sailors, soldiers, and underworld … the smell of cargoes too, Campeachy, saffron, palm oil … absolutely essential if you’re to get the feeling of being there, if those waterfronts of Richmond, Chatham, and Stroude are to be anything more than a dream … well, you can give it a try! … God help us all! …

  I’d better get after those kids! And my head too! all this reminiscing hasn’t done me any good! … I could get good and mad at Felipe, the damn wop … him and his brickyard! … maybe it’s him that cracked my skull … him with his train that he doesn’t want to miss, his Magdeburg express … I wouldn’t put it past him … such a hurry to get back to his brickyard! … don’t worry, I’ve got my eye on him! … lovely, supplying the whole world with bricks! … never mind, we’ll see … let’s get back to you! … I’d got my bearings … we were in Sankt Pauli, the night club, cathouse, and carnival section … not bad getting this far with our staggers … us and the kids … I still hadn’t counted them … some other time! … I was all in, I’d have been glad to sit down … tourism and adventure are ornaments of Peace, don’t try to sell me that stuff in wartime! … and yet, take the general staffs of the most ferocious frantic bleeding armies, look at their all-powerful leaders at the most critical moments when History is hanging … reeling … in the balance … this way, that way, a thread, a straw … and see if they don’t shovel it in! and keep their cooks on their toes … look at the bellies on them! the distended walls … last stages of pregnancy…

  As you can see, I’m hesitating … I cogitate, I ponder, instead of doing my job … prospecting the ruins … to see if I can’t find the remains of a shop, a cracker or two, or a can of milk under these ruins … I admit it, these ruins are smoking … they even explode now and then, I’ve told you that … but not very hard …

  “All right, let’s go! you, Felipe, don’t start without me!”

  I’m not too easy in my mind … the kids aren’t scared at all, they come right along … they’re insensible, at least one advantage they’ve got … they flop, they pick themselves up, they keep crawling … they slobber, they bark … they must be hungry, they can’t say so, they don’t complain … they don’t say anything … these little explosions … they must have heard worse on their way from Breslau … they can’t tell us … they’re all swaddled and wrapped in tarps and scraps of wool … be all right if they weren’t sopping wet … ought to be some way to get them dry! … damn it, there’s that “ought” again … at certain times that’s the only word that turns up! you haven’t got a stitch of strength left, the whole world is collapsing on top of you, and there they go … “he made a mistake, he ought to have …!
” … the kids collide, flop, pick themselves up … and start all over again, stumbling from hole to hole … we’re getting into Hamburg! … say, this is it! … bravo, little cretins! the heart of the city … I tell Lili, I tell Felipe! … I want them to know! to get a little benefit from my erudition … I know Hamburg and its history …

  “You’ve split my head, Felipe! you brickmaking brute! but Charlemagne! it’s Charlemagne that founded Hamburg! big man, Charlemagne! don’t contradict me, Felipe! …”

  He doesn’t contradict me, he doesn’t give a shit … with his tarp bundled up on his head … let’s try and get my bearings … I know this place! I mean, I used to … I’d been here lots of times … ten … twenty times … for the League of Nations … long time ago! … connection with tropical diseases … that nobody’s interested in any more … even their names wouldn’t mean a thing to you … right here now, what a shambles! mountains of paving stones … with a streetcar … two streetcars! … perched on top, teetering … I’ve seen drawings by the supposedly insane that aren’t half as crazy … nothing much to recognize … especially with this smoke, so thick and grimy-sticky, worse than the tunnels, like cotton wool, I defy you to tell me which is what … to recognize objects or people! Felipe! Felipe! Lili! I’m calling the roll … “you got Bébert?” “yes!” … about the kids, there was no way of knowing … in the first place I hadn’t counted them … besides, they had no names … but they heard me … oh, the people all around us, the ones that are supposed to be normal … same difference! … they hear us and they don’t understand a thing … the earth doesn’t want men, it wants hominids … in a hominid world, man is a degenerate, a monster, who fortunately reproduces less and less … the future belongs to the chopper-gobble Balubas, the train eaters … whole trains they’ll gobble up, passengers, conductors, babies! the whole works! when? as soon as they’re motorized plus the atom, you’ll see …

  How many children? I’ve told you, I never knew exactly … twelve? … fifteen? why not count them? easy to say … but the strength? I wasn’t as old as I am now, but even so … when it comes to strength, a healthy, well-fed man is only a sixteenth of a horsepower, at the very most … a sick muddle-headed jerk is hardly a twentieth …

  All of a sudden, right where I’m telling you, in the heart of Hamburg I think, a gust of wind! the wind must have changed, I see where we are … no mistake, we’re in front of the Hotel Esplanade … oh, I can’t be wrong! … but this Hotel Esplanade is all split open … the roofs hanging down in front … the effect … surrealist I was going to say … not as scrambled as those paintings, but pretty near … except that the paintings are practically odorless … and here there was all the smell you could ask for … acrid … with a slight tinge of corpse, I’m not saying that for effect, I know … but nothing fazed those kids, neither the black acrid smoke nor the explosions, I suppose they were used to it … nothing bothered them but the holes … there’s another! still deeper! ah, and disemboweled rails, twisted like bobby pins … talking about this Hotel Esplanade, I could tell you about their head wine-waiter, who refused to serve iced Bordeaux and they threw him out, etc., I’ll tell you the story some day if I have time and I’m still alive … Zimmer Wärme! Zimmer Wärme! room temperature! … he stuck to his guns! it had cost him his job, the customer had been furious, et cetera … he told me about it twenty times in the prison infirmary … and that wasn’t the only dumb thing he had done …

  That’ll do, I’m getting lost! … what I really want … this minute! … is for Felipe to explain about that brick! … more and more I’m thinking he did it on purpose … that he baked it himself in da bricka vork back in Magdeburg! … exactly! and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it! … bashing my skull in for no reason at all … curses! his abominable deed has got me thinking so hard I can’t move! … they could all jump in the ocean … the whole lot of them! I resign, not another step! … I’m going to lie down like Odile, I’m as weak as water … talking about Odile, the bitch …

  “Lili, go take a look back there … quick! go tell her to come here this minute! … tell her I’ve counted the kids … tell her I can’t keep up … tell her I can’t go looking for food … I’m afraid …”

  Felipe’s there … a little further on … lying under his tarp, at least three four layers … he’s not moving … Lili doesn’t wait to be asked twice … fact, she’s younger than me, a lot younger, but she could be tired … she’s got no right to be tired! … quick! … quick! … she should go and shake up this Odile! … and bring her back! … the lazy bitch! …

  I don’t look … I close my eyes … but I’m not asleep …

  I’m thinking … wondering what we’re looking for … a grocery store? … a pharmacy? … a bakery? … I’m not very confident … it’s bound to be worse than Berlin … Harras had told us … those runaway prostitutes … said they wouldn’t find anything in Hamburg, the whole place had burned down … all the same, as long as we’d got this far, we’d go see … but what was keeping Lili so long? …

  I felt my ear being twisted … a little hand … and then a nose … at least four of them were pulling my hair … the kids having fun … I could frighten them … they’d run away and I’d have to catch them … hey, what is this? … they’re pissing on me … one … two … at least three … that’s what comes of procrastination! … I sit up! … I go: boo! … makes them laugh … no authority, I see … I see Lili too … there she is! … high time!

  “What about Odile?”

  “She can’t move!”

  “And who are these characters?”

  I see four little gnomes, even sicklier than ours, and just as snotty drooly as our little tarp and wool packages, but the difference is they’re laughing … ours never laughed much … these four seem to be full of beans …

  “Where’d they come from?”

  “They were with Odile … she sent them … to you!”

  Heaps of rubble, granulated shops … mounds … mountains of paving stones … streetcars on top, standing, lying, astraddle … nothing you could possibly recognize … especially on account of the smoke … I’ve told you … so thick and grimy, black and yellow … I seem to be repeating myself … but don’t you see, I have to … I want to give you the exact idea … haven’t come across a living soul … where are they? … gone, I suppose … or under those piles of rubble? hard to believe … there used to be a lot of population in this Hamburg! … all dead? that’s their lookout! … what I was after was condensed milk … an aim in life! … I hadn’t much hope of finding a shop open … a grocery store or pharmacy …

  “Shitass droolers! … rally to my white canes!° …”

  My orders! … I force myself to stand up … we’ll go reconnoiter these ruins! … sure to find some bread … some kind of army bread, I mean … damned if we don’t! time bombs, burning asphalt, explosions, we’ve seen worse! … hey, one of the kids has stopped … what’s he looking at? … I go over … so do Felipe and Lili… something has caught his eye … down there in the asphalt … a black foot … just a foot … no leg, no body … the body must have burned … Harras had told me … they sprinkle phosphorus all over … nothing’s left … I wouldn’t think so! … hey, the kids are crowding around something … it’s not a foot this time, it’s whole bodies in the sludge … melted asphalt, a sticky sludge all over them … greasy and black … hey! … a man, a woman, a child! … the child in the middle … they’re still holding each other by the hand … and a little dog right next to them … a lesson … people trying to get away, the phosphorus set fire to the asphalt … I heard about it later, thousands and thousands … we weren’t there for the fun of it, our aim in life was milk and a loaf of bread … some kind of a shop … when I stop to think about it, those ruins must have been dangerous, corpses aside … an explosion here! an explosion there! … the fires weren’t really out, and I could see the asphalt … the further we went the softer it got … pretty ticklish, like the quicksand in the
bay at Mont-Saint-Michel … except here that burnt smell … the bodies didn’t smell so bad, it was too cold … in the spring they’d stink … plenty to laugh about, but first something to eat … rations … you’ll have to forgive me, but that word rings a bell with me … my head, you know … the brick … I’m entitled to a few memories, they come up like hair on the soup … I can’t help it and so on! … Verdun … October 1914, rations for the Twelfth … I was there with my wagon … our regiment on the Woëvre … I can still see that drawbridge in Verdun … I stand up in my stirrups and give them the password … the drawbridge comes down … creaking … the guard, twelve men, come out and check the wagons … one by one … the army knew its business in those days … the living proof: they won the war … we ride into Verdun … at a walk … to get our army bread and our sacks of “monkey meat” … we didn’t know the rest of the story, the long and the short! … if people knew what was in store for them, they wouldn’t move, they wouldn’t ask for any drawbridge to be lowered or any doors to be opened … not knowing is the strength of man and beast …