North

by Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  “Germany doesn’t agree with us …”

  So it seems …

  “The cop’ll say it’s not us!”

  You can say that again!… I foresee complications … better not go … come what may …

  Hang around the streets? … not advisable … I wasn’t accustomed yet to being identically myself but unrecognizable … Later on I got used to it … oh, thoroughly … to dragging a double around with me, a kind of dead man, a stiff with canes and worries … suppose some villain bumped you off … he’d only be sending you back to the cemetery you should never have left … me since 1914, not just in ‘44! … I’ve never voted and I know why, it’s because they’re waiting for me … the cemetery-keepers know who’s who … pretty good idea of shapes and colors and memories … but what memories? flogging your brains won’t help … they recognize you! … get back in that ditch! … in our case those pictures were no joke … the police would never accept them! … no use submitting them … I suggest … we’re back at the Steinbock …

  “We could try them on Ivan …”

  Can’t do any harm … he was right outside … I ask him what he thinks of our pictures … he takes them, turns them front and back … upside-down … doesn’t know who it is … we’ve gone Picasso … shit creek! … they know you in court all right, well enough to send you up … or when they want to walk off with your furniture … then they make no mistake … Berlin was only a beginning, when you’re an outlaw, anything can happen … I had no idea … never mind, well see … I order three more messkits and that little something for Bébert … when you’ve got pictures like that you may as well be generous … I fork out two more hundred mark notes … I don’t know where Ivan stands on politics … but one sure thing: he can’t say I’m stingy … I’m pretty certain there’s nobody but us three at the Steinbock Hotel … that our two rooms are the only ones occupied… but even so they’ve still got a phone … I hear it ringing … pretty often actually … where can it be? … in the court, in his one-story shack? or in one of the craters? but who can be calling him? … Le Vigan is curious too … we can’t very well ask him … well talk it over … We’re expert at getting into Le Vig’s room now … through his bricks … there’s the street again, Schinderstrasse, the old men coming and going, scraping, sorting, piling … if the war lasts another ten years … with all those tiles and bricks … they’ll make another street… here’s Ivan with red cabbage and cream and the chunk of pale meat for Bébert … Lili calls my attention to something … across the street a house … one floor … seems to be hanging between the comerposts … like a hammock … the floors above and below are gone … blasted away! … and this floor like a shop window … a florist’s shop in mid-air … roses, hydrangeas, clematis … slung like a hammock between two comerposts … all that’s left of the building … this aerial mezzanine … and the main staircase … the only inhabited floor, I think, on the whole of Schinderstrasse … except our own plaster walls … our pads at the Steinbock Hotel…

  “Ivan,” I ask him … “Over there?”

  I point across the street… the hanging shop …

  “Da? da? blumen? geschäft? … florist?”

  “Nein!… nein! doktor Faustus!”

  Faustus? Well, if he says so … that mezzanine must be for weddings and funerals … bouquets and wreaths … we haven’t seen any yet, but they must happen … why wouldn’t they … we’d be glad to buy some flowers ourselves … to beautify our pads … in pots! … better homes! … geraniums … Lill wanted clematis … we talked it over … interior decoration, flowers … and grass for Bébert … Faustus, must have some … hm, Faustus! … first finish our messkits … and we started wondering some more … red cabbage with cream … where did whiskers get that cream? … pretty shrewd article with that hay-pitching look … or the red cabbage for that matter? … kidding aside … Now that we’ve finished eating suppose we take a look across the street … what have we got to lose? first to see if this Dr. Faustus really exists … and buy a couple of geraniums … truth or fiction … The sidewalk across the street is full of junkies … how dowe get up to that hanging garden? … well see … we go down … we cross the street … between two piles of bricks … we ask the way to the stairs … over there! … I see three flights of rope ladders … and then down again to the mezzanine! … some contraption! … rough going with my canes under my arm … must be quite a sight for our friend up there when his customers do a nosedive … which is bound to happen now and then … ah, here we are … “Doktor Faustus”… that’s really his name … engraved on a copper plate … hanging on a wire … they’re all doktors in Germany … doctor of floriculture? … hey, here he is … saw us coming … right off the bat he asks us in French:

  “Whom have I the honor … ?”

  “My wife … Monsieur Coquillaud ° … and myself …”

  That’s all I tell him … it’s plenty … at first sight he’s neither a vulgarian nor a brute … on the stout side … about fifty … with glasses …

  “Follow me if you please …”

  He goes ahead, he has a slight limp …

  “I beg your pardon … I overheard you … the echoes in this empty building … I’m not a florist … I’m sorry … very sorry, Madame … a doctor, yes … but a doctor of law … an attorney…”

  “Do forgive us, sir … a silly mistake … Ivan across the street should have told us …”

  “The person you call Ivan knows nothing … his name is Petrov … he’s stupid like all these Russians … a stupid, lying drunkard … all those people from the East … when they come here, you see, our mild manners bewilder them … they can’t see straight, they can’t hear straight, they don’t know what they are … in their country they get flogged every day … when the beatings stop, they get delirious … that’s what happened to this Petrov, whom you call Ivan … he takes me for a florist! … yes, I have flowers … but to adorn my apartment, not to sell … he drops in now and then … to sell me his cream … I’ve told him a hundred times: I’m a lawyer, Petrov!’ … To make him remember, I should have to beat him black and blue … force of habit…”

  “Oh, certainly, sir, you’re so right… so right!”

  “I adore flowers, in Breslau I had a whole garden of tropical flowers … two greenhouses …”

  “Ah, you’re from Breslau?”

  “Yes, Monsieur, and I believe I may say that my office wasthe biggest, the most important from Upper Silesia … to Vienna! … criminal and civil…”

  “I take it, sir, that you’ve spent many years in France?”

  “Yes, indeed … At Toulouse University I even did a thesis in French … about Cujas …”

  “One need only hear you speak, sir … the very first words!”

  “Then you’d say I spoke French fairly well?”

  “Well? … Well? … better is inconceivable, sir … as no one in France speaks it today … except perhaps for a fewgreat writers … Duhamel, Delly, Mauriac … and perhaps …”

  “Indeed? you really think so? … you give me great pleasure … do be seated … make yourselves at home … here, Madame … I believe this divan is more comfortable than my chairs, all secondhand, as you can imagine … I saved nothing from Breslau, not a single dossier! … and yourselves … if I may ask … are you here in Berlin as tourists? … do you know the city? …” “

  Oh, very little … very little …”

  “Then it would give me great pleasure, since you live across the street … you must call for me … I shall show you the picturesque spots … this city is secretive in a way … like your Lyons … it has been very much defamed, ah yes … slandered … sinister city! … city of pederasts! of monsters! … you must have heard …”

  “Jealousy, sir … nothing more …”

  “You shall see! … you shall see with your own eyes! … meanwhile, if you please, my apartment is yours … at your disposal… and all the flowers! … take some for your room … the Steinbock doe
sn’t look like much, I know … the rooms are in a deplorable state … it suffered enormously under the last bombings … the whole street to be sure … this street, as you see it, is all façades … only here and there a room, an apartment … a few of the craters have been turned into lodgings, so I’m told … myself here, you can see for yourself, I’ve built … with the materials at my disposal … a mezzanine in mid-air … the ceiling the partitions, are from other buildings … across the street … next door … the furniture is from other destroyed neighborhoods … especially Alt Köln … friends here and there have helped me … in this house all the tenants were killed … killed in their homes … all the bodies identified … I am entitled by law … as long as I rebuild, occupy the premises residentially and pay my taxes, the place is mine … law of 1700, never abrogated …”

  He was getting excited … pleading his cause … his pince-nez trembled … let no one question his rightl … or say he’s, not occupying the place residentially! … not a florist! certainly not! Petrov’s invention … filthy beast, ought to be Whipped, jealous swinish Slav!

  “I trust it will all be settled … go back to Breslau? No! .. ; I’m starting a practice here … this will be my office!”

  “Of course, my dear sir … of course!”

  “Centrally situated, as you can see … two steps from the Chancellery!”

  He taps his forehead …

  “What! What! You didn’t know?”

  He gets up … really incredible … he looks at his watch … the Chancellor … the Chancellery so near! … this is the time, going on four! two steps! … would we care to?

  “Oh, certainly! … delighted! … couldn’t be more pleased! what luck!”

  Pop Bébert in his bag and off we go … Not far, he was right … hardly a minute …

  Good grief, is that their Chancellery? … a big stone rectangle, something like granite … but much more dismal than granite, more funereal … no wonder what happened there! … the Pantheon and the Invalides are gay by comparison … the whole thing on a gloomy small-town square … the doors of the Chancellery are really colossal … must be armored … and that’s not all! But Adolf? … that’s what we came for … is he inside? shut up? … is he coming out? … I ask Le Vig … he doesn’t know … hell! … I ask the alleged Faustus … “Sh! Sh!” he goes … There they are! hear the band?” … I don’t hear a thing … there’s nobody but us on the little square … the three of us, the four, Lili, me, Le Vig, and him … nobody else … we stand there and wait … this Chancellery Square is really empty … not a sentry, not a soldier, not a schupo … It’s beginning to look fishy to me … why’d he bring us here? … we’ve seen his Chancellery … I tell him so …

  “Okay … let’s go back …”

  “Sh … Sh”

  He hears something … he looks at me …

  “There they are!”

  I don’t see a thing… I don’t hear a thing…

  Do you see anything?

  I ask Lili… and Le Vig … no! nothing at all! … this character has me worried … I sort of suspected … but now I know … we don’t hear or see a thing … but he … he can’t contain himself! … he starts yelling! … bellowing! … gets up on his toes! … heil! heil! right there next to us it comes over him … waving his hat! … heil! … heil! … beside himself! … seeing things? … there’s nothing … absolutely nothing! is he pulling our leg? a put-up job? the square is deserted … all the shops closed … and he sees Hitler!

  “See him? He’s going in! … the gates are opening! … magnificent! magnificent! heil!”

  And be bellows three more heils … Does he want us to … ? … he puts his hat back on … it’s all over …

  “Home now!”

  I wasn’t going to ask him if it was true … we don’t open our mouths … we start off … we listen … he does the talking … Hitler was looking well… the crowd was so happy! … it’s all right with us, we agree … all the way back to Schinderstrasse … to his house … through rubble and ruins … acrobatics … little stepladders to the “fourth-floor” landing, then down by the long rope ladder to his hammock mezzanine … rough! especially for me with my dizzy spells … well, here we are … where did he find all this furniture? … he explains … perfectly lucid … not raving any more … he has connections all over the suburbs … he buys furniture from people who’ve gone away … the absquatulated, the bombed-out, the deceased … oh, not whole lots … only the best pieces! I can see that it’s true, he’s not talking through his hat … good stuff! … chests of drawers, tables, chairs, not hideous in the least … I ask him …

  “Is that legal too?”

  “Absolutely! … Paragraph 4! same law of 1700! … reconstruction! I reconstruct! … I live here! … I pay my taxes! … absolutely regular!”

  Not nuts at all…

  “Ordinance of December 13, Potsdam 1700!”

  Down cold! …

  I listen to him … our place on rue Girardon, I’m thinking, it must be the same right this minute, they must be helping themselves … bet they’ve got sweet ordinances! … and well never see any of the stuff again … one side or the other, Boches or brethren, don’t worry! all the same, crooks, scavengers, vampires of disaster … the uniform doesn’t mean a thingi or the flag … thieves the whole lot of them … murderers! across the Rhine, Transcaucasus, Touraine, Arabidjan, Connecticut, don’t beat your brains out, hominids wherever you gol … Lower Provence, Upper Silesia, bloodsuckers, phony lunatics, shysters barge in! … take everything you’ve got! … bad reputation? string him up! at ease! … got the article right here! … 75 … 113 … 117 … and the neck stretcher right around the corner … on with the noose! crack! this fellow here, it seemed to me, was taking pretty bad risks … from one minute to the next the whole kaboodle could hit him on the beezer, rare knickknacks, exotic plants, showcases in mid-air … they’d grab it all! … or suppose the RAF got interested in Berlin again! … this was only the intermission! … What good would his articles and paragraphs do him? even dating from Frederick … where would he go, he and his imaginary Hitler?

  Ah, mezzanine! … ah, Chancellery! … sure, for the moment, during the intermission, he was better off than we were … his hanging gardens were kind of jolly … did he have visions? … possible! his nerves, the bombing? … I ask him …

  “Did you lose everything, my dear sir? bombed out? … in Breslau?

  I know his Breslau, a black country, earth and sky, blacker than Prussia and colder …

  “Yes, everything! … absolutely everything! … material, losses! ach! ach!

  Here a gesture … such things mattered little! so little! … but! … but! …

  “But my wife, my dear wife Anna! … and my younger son Horst, six years old …”

  We’re grieved of course … but he’s not through yet:

  “Two other sons! … in Russia … no news in sixteen months … my brother and nephew in France! … no news!”

  We let out a few more ohs and ahs … best we can do … anyway this character, with everybody gone and no news, he rigs up an apartment and a lawyer s office … later, on Avenue Junot I saw the exact same thing … they took everything we had and moved in residentially … Purges are quick … half a second, they cut your throat and help themselves … you go back and it’s all over! … your successor is reading his paper, smoking his pipe, Madame is busy doing something with her brassiere, sewing, farting, and discussing vacation plans … the little girl is playing the piano, out of tune … you’ve got no more business there … go your way, kick off in silence … Faustus here had confidence … all set up in his hammock-apartment, which belonged to him more or less, he was looking forward to a long future … paying his taxes … nothing to worry about … And the whole place seesawed, it wouldn’t have taken much to send his whole flower shop plummeting down into the street … one little bomb … dive and goodbye! … sitting there in the midst of his flumdiddle, I could see him in a regular shop o
n rue de Provence or Palais-Royal … he had everything, stuffed birds, collections of insects … fancy drapes … losing his wife, his son Horst, and God knows who else … and his brother … didn’t crimp his trust that the tragedy would be over someday and that here with his residential setup, paying his taxes, his future was secure, especially in this location, a few steps from the Chancellery … all he had to do was wait … I agreed … I told him he was perfectly right … Le Vig and Lili congratulated him on his good taste, his knickknacks … so amusing! … his lovely flowers, his perfect French …

  “You really think so?”

  “Definitely!”

  And more compliments …

  I stood up and roamed around … a closer look … a knickknack, another … What the! … I look again! … no mistake! … that fan! … seen it before! … absolutely! … I don’t say a word, I keep it to myself … it’s Madame von Dopfs fan from Baden-Baden … no mistake, there isn’t another like it… I’ll tell them when we get back to the hotel … in a situation like this a word too much can be fatal … I know from experience … let’s not have any trouble … I turn my head, I compliment him some more on his flowers, his Mexican vases … his shrewdness in picking up options on all the wreckage in the neighborhood … even on the Steinbock across the street … rubble at three marks a ton, excavation at ten marks a square yard! … what an investment! I talked about everything … except the fan! then he had to give us another reading of the texts certifying his rights … and Lili had to choose a fewflowers … two … ten … as many as she liked … To get bade we’d climb down the ladder to the sidewalk … then he’d drop us a basket on a rope … all right with us … anything he said …