Trans-Atlantyk

by Witold Gombrowicz

  But Empty. And in the street likewise Empty. A breeze, light and damp, o’erblew me, but I know not where I am to go, what to do; and when I happened into a café, there Empty the Tea. Thereupon I thought to myself: ’tis the end of that Patria of yore … yet that thought Empty, Empty and again through the streets I go, but when thus I go I know not where I am to go.

  Ergo I stop. And so dry and empty as shavings, as pepper or an empty Barrel. Ergo I stand and think, where could I go, what could I do, since no Friends or close acquaintances and I on the corner, lookye, just stand … and now an eagerness overtook me at this hour of night to go to that Son, that Son to see … This fancy of mine was not quite reasonable, and moreover at Night, but with my stay on the corner prolonging whilst I know not where I am to go (since cafés are already closed) all the more piercing. My father had these many years been dead. Mother far away. Children I have none, and when no Friends nor any near ones, let me at least another’s child glimpse, and the Son, although another’s, see. The fancy, I say, rather addle-pated, but I moved from where I was; and whilst I Go with no aim, the Going itself directs me towards the Son; and so of a sudden I to the Son go (and that Going of mine has become slow, shy). The Son, the Son, to the Son, to the Son! I knew that despite the late hour I could realize my intent since Tomasz with his Son two small chambers in a Pension occupied and, as is the wont in southern countries, all doors would be left open.

  Indeed, with no difficulty the Pension I entered, that little chamber found, and there I see, viz. naked on the bed he lies, by sleep overcome, and his Chest so, his Shoulders so, head and legs so, that rascal, rascal, oh rascal Gonzalo! He lies and he breathes. That breathing of his some solace to me brought, but at once Anger seized me that I to him here at night have come and the Devil knows wherefore, to what end … and this to myself I say: Oh one must, must needs keep an eye on the Young and likewise chide them! Why are you a-lying so, you idler? I would set you to Work! Dispatch you for something! Order you to do something! Oh, to keep you on a short rein, never slackening, to work, to Prayer, even with a stick urge so that you may grow into a Man … But a-lying he is, a-breathing. Say I then: Just to give him a good thrashing so that he would know discipline, grow up in virtue for, Merciful Lord, the idler he is, slug-abed … But he lies there, lies, and I stand and know not what I am to do, wherefore came I hence. I would go; yet I could not go for he Lies there and I know not wherefore I came hence.

  Ergo Lying there he is, a-lying. Whereupon a Vexation did overcome me. Say I, yet not loudly but softly: Well, hither I came out of vexation concerning the future of that Nation of ours, the which by Enemies defeated, as naught remains to us but our children. May Sons be faithful to Fathers and the Land of their fathers! So I speak but at once the Fear did overcome me, to what end do I speak thus and why … But Empty here! Suddenly so Empty! Suddenly so Empty as if Naught… as if no thing was … and he here Lies, just a-lying, a-lying… Empty within me and empty before me. I cried: “For the love of God!”

  Yet in vain the name of God the Father whilst the Son before me, whilst the Son only and naught but the Son! The Son! The Son! Let the Father die! Son without Father. The son rein-free, the Son let loose. That’s the thing, oh, indeed!

  Next day in the early morn—the Duel.

  When unto the appointed glade, the which hard by a river lies, we came, no one was there, and Tomasz was saying prayers; but soon a chaise with a Doctor arrived; and thereupon Gonzalo in flurry and fuss with four trotters and a Postillion, and behind his equipage the Baron together with Pyckal on stallions, huge, dark bay, the which with spurs bepricked and with reins becurbed Reared and Snorted.

  Ergo then all of us were here. I with the Baron began to measure the ground but a frog I saw, so to the Baron I say: “Frogs there are here.” He retorted: “There are, for ’tis damp.” Also Dr. Garcia has come up to me and says to make haste as he needs must for a Cession and a Conveyance.

  A sign was given and the adversaries advanced to the ground. Pan Tomasz modestly, quietly, Gonzalo for his part in the glitter, in the fuss of all his array: viz. Sash of blue satin, Vest also made of Satin, Safron-yellow, over it a Waistcoat, black, and a Half-Frock likewise, braided and also Bemedalled; then a Cape in two Colours, likewise a Hat Black, Mexican, with a brim, the which wide, exceeding wide. The Baron with Pyckal again the Stallions mounted, Gonzalo his Hat flourished, Horses snorted. Pyckal to me a-gallop came, horse sharply reined, from horse did hand me the pistols; again his Hat did Puto flourish.

  Tomasz calmly in his place stood and waited. I load the pistols … and Bullets into the Sleeve, into the Inner Sleeve. Thereupon a pistol to Tomasz I gave but Empty, and the other, likewise Empty, Pyckal to Gonzalo gave. As we were stepping aside, the Baron cried “Fire! Fire!” … but that cry of his Empty for barrels empty too. Gonzalo, having dashed his hat to the ground, raised the pistol and fired. The sound went forth over the glade, but Empty. Sparrows there on bushes perched (fatter ones than our own) but they took fright; and likewise a Cow.

  Tomasz, seeing that Gonzalo’s bullet had missed him (since there was none), his weapon raised and at length aimed, at length; yet he knew not that that aiming of his Empty. He aims, aims, fires but what—empty, empty: and from that clap naught but pop. Here the sun has already a mite risen, has begun to warm (as the mists had dispersed), and here from behind a bush a cow came out; Gonzalo his hat did flourish; and from afar, from behind bushes, the Cavalcade appeared: viz. first two Postillions, one of them two Greyhounds and the other four holding on a rope; in their wake Ladies and Gentlemen in a flurried procession riding, chatting, singing … and so ride by, ride by, and first on the right His Excellency the Envoy in a hunting Coat on a large Stallion, a piebald, afterwards the Counsellor and next the Colonel. They ride, ride, and as if naught, after a hare, although, lookye, Empty since there is no hare … and so, lookye, slowly they ride by.

  Now we at them did gape, especially Tomasz. But they have ridden by. Thereupon straightway to load the pistols, I bullets into the sleeve. Fire, fire. Gonzalo his hat did flourish, shoots from an empty barrel, but naught; and Tomasz raises his weapon, aims, aims, aims … oh, how he did aim! Oh, how he did Aim at length, at length, carefully and so keenly, so Tremendously did he aim that, although the Barrel Empty, Puto did shrink, did stiffen and now even to me it seemed that it could not be but that Death out of that Barrel would burst. Another clap. But from that clap was naught but pop. Gonzalo his Large Black Hat did flourish, Pyckal, the Baron horses so tightly becurbed that they on their rumps sat, whilst to me Dr. Garcia has come up and asks to make haste as he needs must for a Cession.

  Whereupon I did nigh clutch my head! And presently it became clear to me that we as if into a Trap had fallen and there can be no end here and this Duel can have no ending: viz. ’tis till blood and how is Blood to appear if with no bullets the pistols? But ’tis an Oversight, Confusion of ours, an Error of ours that this we overlooked in devising the conditions!!! They can so all day and night, and the next day and night following, and further on a whole day in rounds go since I all the time Bullets into the Sleeve for them and fire, fire, and so with no End, with no respite! God, what to do, what to conceive! But fired Gonzalo! Fires Tomasz! And the Cavalcade from afar, behind bushes, appears, viz. Ladies and Gentlemen, likewise Greyhounds. Ride slowly, trotting or ambling, first His Excellency the Envoy, afterwards the Counsellor with the Colonel, and they ride after a hare (although there is no hare), and have ridden by …

  Gonzalo his hat flourished. Tomasz the pistol to his eye raised. Oh, how he did aim! ‘Slife! ‘Slife, ‘Slife, out of that whole soul of his, that Might of his, out of that Rectitude of his … he frowns … his eyes narrow … and he Aims so, Aims, that Death, Death, bloodsome Death, certain Death, Blood here must be! Another clap. But Pop. And with empty Popping perchance he kills but himself. Puto flourished his black hat. And the Cavalcade appeared, and this time closer, although as if naught, amongst themselves they are talking, chat
ting, hallooing, after a Hare, after a Hare riding! But now Pyckal’s Stallion bit the rump of the Stallion on which the Baron sat. Bit the rump! The Baron did lash him but Pyckal lashed the Baron’s; ergo from his Horse the Baron at the other’s head, across the head, and Pyckal on the head. The Stallions whinnied.

  We to them. But they have already bolted, over the glade run! Off the Baron fell. Whereupon I likewise see that the Horses there in the Cavalcade snort, whinny, and the Ladies fall off. Straightway furious yelping of dogs, Greyhounds came to the ear and crying, groaning—oh, perchance they have fallen upon somebody, are mauling! Leaving the duel, we beyond the bushes with help rush, where horses, Stallions all, with tooth and claw bite each other, whinny … and under the Dogs no one else but Ignacy with the Dogs tumbles, by them nipped, pulled! Humans’ screaming, dogs’ growling, choking, Ignacy’s groan, horses’ gallop, Ladies’ shrieking, men’s voices into a Dantesque symphony merged.

  Tomasz “A pistol, a pistol” cried, out of my hand the pistol tears, and at the Dogs fires; but the Barrel empty.

  Thereupon Gonzalo at those Dogs hurled himself, and did so with bare hands, yet with a cry Terrible, heaven-piercing … and, having fallen amongst them, with them he began to roll, scream, maul, tearing them away from that Ignasiek of his, him with his own body, with his own body shielding!

  Now also the postillions at the dogs with rods, with whips, with whatever they had; others jumped in too. And so away the Dogs they chased.

  Also the horses they caught; and whoever had fallen was now struggling up off the ground and gathering himself together. Tomasz fell upon his Son and, seeing that besides surface wounds no harm he suffered, on knees thanked God for that immeasurable benefaction of His; whereupon to Gonzalo his hand he held out: “Oh, now not an enemy but a Brother, Friend you will be to me since you have rescued my Son at the risk of your own Life!” Anon then they embraced each other to the great applause of all, and Gonzalo’s bravery to the skies was raised: “From death he has rescued him! For an enemy he has done this! He himself came nigh death …” Ignacy alike to Gonzalo his hand holds out; the latter embraces him and as a Brother hugs.

  Ergo, after fear, Joy. Says His Excellency the Envoy: “Well, praise God that it ended so and nobody’s fault ’tis save perchance the Stallions’ and Postillions’ … for when the Stallions began to bite each other, the dogs tore away from the Postillions and on the Young Man lept, the which was led by Anxiety for his Father to hide himself in these bushes. Ergo, gentlemen, charming Ladies, you could see the apparent sign of God’s Grace the which a son for a Father has rescued. Regard these groves! Regard herbs, bushes, Nature all, the which under the vastness of Heaven rests; and regard how the Pole before all Creation forgives the rescuer of that Son of his! God’s Grace. The benevolence of all Nature! Oh, since ’tis certain, most certain, that a Pole is dear to God and Nature for those Virtues of his, and chiefly for that Chivalry of his, for that Courage of his, that Nobility of his, for that Piousness and Faith of his! Regard these groves! Regard all Nature! And regard us, the Poles. Amen, amen, amen.” All then cried: “Viva Polonia Mártir.”

  I fell to my knees. Whereupon Gonzalo advanced to the center and with his Hat a circle made at which the Horses again took fright. He, however, paying no heed to the horses, spoke thus: “A great, immeasurable Honour ’twas for me with a man so worthy, a Pole, to share ground and, Your Excellency, God keep me from such shame that I would not stand up to someone, since I flee from no one and he shall Find me Whosoe’er Seeks me; for I reckon that there is no greater treasure for a Man than the unbesmirched Reputation of his Name. Albeit, if for the reason of Rescuing from the Dogs the Son of His Worship, he, the aforesaid worthy Enemy, wishes to have me for a Friend, I will not waver from that Friendship, indeed a Friend, a Brother of his I would for all time be. And so methinks that he will not refuse me the gracious acceptance of the hospitality of my home, and he together with his Son for Carousing to that friendship to my home will betake himself; where we will Carouse!” All began shouting and hailing, here they Hug, there they Kiss and Gonzalo again embraced first Tomasz, then his Son. Such the Duel’s end.

  Hard that Mountain of mine in the emptiness of that track of mine and in that Field of Mine, yet Empty, Empty as if ‘twere naught. So out of all that I together with Tomasz in Gonzalo’s equipage to his palace; yet not to the one he had in town but to the Estancia two or three miles distant. In our wake in a Chaise Gonzalo with Ignacy rides. Thus we ride along this track, as if up a Mountain: and there houses, dwellings, many fences, grass, Fruit trees; so we ride on and there Dogs, Hens, sometimes a Cat, children playing and people moving about; so the horses draw the carriage, and we ride rather smartly, albeit Empty, Hollow. Tomasz in silence was riding; I likewise was silent. Of a sudden Tomasz grasped my hand: “Tell me, not to go, perchance … for what are we to go there? Since it seems that there is a Reconciliation, seems that that Man has indeed honourably acquitted himself, and from certain death rescued a Son for me, yet somewhat not to my taste that bidding of his … Oh, we’d best not go! …” Thus he speaks to me; yet empty the words! I retorted: “Go ye not! If you would not go, go ye not. You’d best not go…Do you not see that not for you but for himself he has rescued your Son! You Miserable Man, why to his very home do you bring your Son! … you’d do better to take Ignacy from his chaise and flee as from Pestilence!”

  Thus I respond, but ’twas Empty, Empty since, although for the peace of my Conscience, heavy, I spoke, I did know that my Advice indeed a contrary response in him would evoke, and would make escape impossible for him.

  Whereupon he grasped the whip and the horses with a lash did smite so that they sprang forward! “On with ye, on!” he cried. “Even if ‘twere as you say I would not from him flee with Ignacy, for my Ignacy is not such as to be afeard of his suit!” And with the whip he scourges the horses so that they spring forward. And I for the peace of my conscience speak on: “You’d do well to take flight so as not to expose Ignacy to that web …”

  Within two hours before the gates of a large Park we drew up, the which, amidst boundless plains of Pampas, with a plumage of Palms, Baobabs, and Orchids was raised. And, after the gates have been opened, a Drive before us, murky, humid—the which leads to the Palace, heavily gilded, of Moorish or Renaissance, Gothic and likewise Romanesque architecture—a-quiver with Hummingbirds, Flies, huge, golden, Butterflies of many hues, Parfots divers. Exclaimed Gonzalo:

  “So we are at home! Be welcome! Be welcome!”

  Thereupon to hug us, embrace our knees, conduct us into the house! I was amazed and amazed was Tomasz together with his son upon seeing the luxuries of those Salons, Huge Halls, the which with Plafonds, Parquets, Stuccoes, Panellings, and likewise Bays, Columns, Paintings, Statues, further on Cupids and Refectories, Pilasters, Tapestries, Carpets and also Palms, and Flagons too, Vases Filigreen, of crystal, of jasper, caskets, rosewood baskets, chests, cithers, Venetian or even Florentine, and likewise incrustated with filigree. And one upon the other crammed, stuffed so that, Heaven help us, the head aches: viz. a Cupid next to a Goblin, and here in an Armchair a Madonna, there on a Runner a Vase, and this under the table, that behind a Flagon, there a Column who knows whence and wherefore, and next a Shield or even a Platter. Albeit, seeing the Titians, Raphaels, Murillos, and likewise other extraordinary masterpieces of art, all that we gazed upon with reverence, and say I: “Treasures these, treasures!” “Aye, treasures,” says he, “and this is why, sparing no cost, all I bought and here did gather, did pile that they might Cheapen for me a bit. Ergo, these Masterpieces, Paintings, Statues together here enclosed, one the other Cheapening by its excess, have become so Cheap that I this Flagon can break (and a Flagon, Persian, Astrakhan of majolica celadon-green, betraceried, with his foot from its base kicked so that the Flagon sprayed into a thousand pieces). But come, Gentlemen, and let us take sup! To the dogs with all this! To the Dogs …” And straightway a little dog across the hall scampers, a Bolognese
, although it seems that with a Poodle crossed since a poodle’s tail it had and the hair of a Fox-terrier. Anon the Majordomo hurried in, the which Gonzalo gave an order to lay the table since, says he, these are closest Friends, Brothers of mine! Saying this into Pan Tomasz’s arms he fell again, then hugged me and also Ignacy.

  But speaks Tomasz: “Here the dogs are biting each other.” Indeed two Dogs, one of which an imp, Pekinese, but with brushtail, and the other Shepherd (but as if with a rat’s tail and Bulldog’s muzzle), together across the room, biting each other, have run. Gonzalo exclaimed: “Aye, they bite each other, they bite! So ’tis. Not with an ill effect that Biting. Mark, Your Worship, as that Madonna that Chinese-Indian dragon bites, and this green Persian carpet that Murillo of mine, and these Cornices those statues, the Devil with them, perchance I’ll have to procure Cages for them as they will Bite each other to bits!” Here he burst out laughing and, having snatched a small Whip that was lying on the table, began to beat Furniture with it, crying: “Take that, take that! Bite you not, bite you not, to the kennel, to the kennel!” And in his exultation, again to Hug, to kiss us, and mainly Pan Tomasz but also Ignacy. We marked, that that Biting not only from those dogs did issue but was also for the reason of those various furnishings themselves contradicting and with each other clashing. Yet speaks Tomasz: “And there the Library.”