Bacacay (13 page)
Authors: Bill Johnston Witold Gombrowicz
“You, Moni—Buatu,” he would say to one of the black women —“you bare .
.
.
no blush .
.
.
black, teeth bared, grotesque—you can’t comprehend the divine embarrassment of innocence enwrapped in fabric, and fearfully turning away its head.
.
.
no blush .
.
.
black, teeth bared, grotesque—you can’t comprehend the divine embarrassment of innocence enwrapped in fabric, and fearfully turning away its head.
“Skirt, blouse, little parasol, prattle, holy naïveté dictated by instinct—these are delightful, but they aren’t for me.
As a man I can neither clasp my arms together nor sully myself innocently.
Quite the opposite: honor, courage, dignity, taciturnity, these are the attributes of male virginity.
But I ought to maintain in relation to the world a certain male naivety constituting an analogy to virginal naivety.
I must take everything in with a clear gaze.
I must eat lettuce.
Lettuce is more virginal than radishes—why, can anyone guess?
Perhaps because it’s more bitter.
But then lemon is even less virginal than radishes.
As a man I can neither clasp my arms together nor sully myself innocently.
Quite the opposite: honor, courage, dignity, taciturnity, these are the attributes of male virginity.
But I ought to maintain in relation to the world a certain male naivety constituting an analogy to virginal naivety.
I must take everything in with a clear gaze.
I must eat lettuce.
Lettuce is more virginal than radishes—why, can anyone guess?
Perhaps because it’s more bitter.
But then lemon is even less virginal than radishes.
“On the male side too there exist marvelous secrets, matters that are locked up with seven seals—the flag and death beneath the flag.
What further?
Faith is a great mystery, blind faith.
A godless person is like a public woman to whom everyone has access.
I ought to raise something to the dignity of my ideal, to come to love, to believe blindly and be prepared to sacrifice my life—but
what should it be?
Anything, so long as I have the ideal.
I, a male virgin, bunged up with my ideal!”
What further?
Faith is a great mystery, blind faith.
A godless person is like a public woman to whom everyone has access.
I ought to raise something to the dignity of my ideal, to come to love, to believe blindly and be prepared to sacrifice my life—but
what should it be?
Anything, so long as I have the ideal.
I, a male virgin, bunged up with my ideal!”
And here he was, after an absence of four years, walking with his betrothed along the paths of the garden.
They made a handsome couple.
Mrs.
S.
watched them gladly from the window as she embroidered a napkin, while Bibi dashed about the lawn chasing little birds, which fled chirping from his red tongue.
They made a handsome couple.
Mrs.
S.
watched them gladly from the window as she embroidered a napkin, while Bibi dashed about the lawn chasing little birds, which fled chirping from his red tongue.
“You’ve changed,” the young man was saying sadly; “you don’t prattle like before, you don’t wave your little hand about .
.
.”
.
.”
“No, no, I still love you just the same,” Alice replied distractedly.
“There, you see!
Before, you wouldn’t have said that you love me.
I didn’t expect this of you—that such words would pass your throat, that your lips and tongue would form that shameful phrase.
You’re altogether ill at ease, on edge somehow; you don’t have a throat infection by any chance?”
Before, you wouldn’t have said that you love me.
I didn’t expect this of you—that such words would pass your throat, that your lips and tongue would form that shameful phrase.
You’re altogether ill at ease, on edge somehow; you don’t have a throat infection by any chance?”
“I love you; it’s just .
.
.”
.
.”
“Just what?”
“You won’t make fun of me?”
“You know that I—I never laugh.
I only smile, and only with a cheerful smile.”
I only smile, and only with a cheerful smile.”
“Explain to me: What does love mean, and what do I mean?”
“Ah, I’ve been awaiting that question for a long time,” he exclaimed.
“Come and sit on this bench.
“Come and sit on this bench.
“When the first parents in paradise yielded to Satan’s whisper and tasted the tree of awareness, as you know, everything changed for the worse.
‘O Lord!’—the people begged—‘grant us at least a little of that lost purity and innocence.’
The Lord God looked
helplessly at the motley band and had no idea where or how He could find a place for Purity and Innocence in that squalid herd.
It was then He created a virgin, a vessel of innocence, locked her up tightly and set her among the people, who conceived a nostalgic longing for her.”
‘O Lord!’—the people begged—‘grant us at least a little of that lost purity and innocence.’
The Lord God looked
helplessly at the motley band and had no idea where or how He could find a place for Purity and Innocence in that squalid herd.
It was then He created a virgin, a vessel of innocence, locked her up tightly and set her among the people, who conceived a nostalgic longing for her.”
“And what about married women?”
“Married women are nothing—humbug, a stale bottle.”
“But why is it, tell me, why is it that men throw rocks at virgins?”
“What ’s that, Alice?”
“It ’s happened to me a number of times,” said Alice, turning deep crimson, “that one or another man I’ve met on an empty street, when no one was watching—threw a rock at me.”
“What did you say?”
replied Paul in astonishment.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he whispered.
“What do you mean, threw a rock?”
replied Paul in astonishment.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he whispered.
“What do you mean, threw a rock?”
“He took a rock, a big brick, and flung it at me.
It hurt,” Alice murmured ever so quietly.
It hurt,” Alice murmured ever so quietly.
“It’s .
.
.
it’s nothing .
.
.
They’re probably bad people .
.
.
it’s for fun, or for target practice.
Think no more about it.”
.
.
it’s nothing .
.
.
They’re probably bad people .
.
.
it’s for fun, or for target practice.
Think no more about it.”
“But why do virgins have to smile at such times?”
insisted Alice.
insisted Alice.
“Why do they smile?
How do you mean ?
What are you saying, child?
Has this happened to you often, Alice?”
How do you mean ?
What are you saying, child?
Has this happened to you often, Alice?”
“Oh yes, very often, almost every day, when I’ve been alone, or with Bibi.”
“What about your girlfriends?”
“They complain about it too.
It’s impossible not to smile,” she went on pensively, “even though it hurts.”
It’s impossible not to smile,” she went on pensively, “even though it hurts.”
“This is novel,” thought Paul as he returned home.
“Moving,
even brutal.
Throwing a rock at a virgin—I’ve never heard anything like it.
True, such things are generally kept secret.
She herself says it takes place only when no one is watching.
It’s brutal—yes, but at the same time enchanting; and why?
Because it’s instinctive.
I’m touched, and curiously excited.
Ah, the virginal world, the world of love, is full of such magical peculiarities.
Strangers smile at one another on the street; someone strokes someone else’s elbow; a smile through tears, or a kiss by rubbing noses, is not at all odder than throwing a rock.
It’s possible that there exists an entire code of agreed-upon signs and ways about which I, living all this time among the savages in China and Africa, know nothing.
“Moving,
even brutal.
Throwing a rock at a virgin—I’ve never heard anything like it.
True, such things are generally kept secret.
She herself says it takes place only when no one is watching.
It’s brutal—yes, but at the same time enchanting; and why?
Because it’s instinctive.
I’m touched, and curiously excited.
Ah, the virginal world, the world of love, is full of such magical peculiarities.
Strangers smile at one another on the street; someone strokes someone else’s elbow; a smile through tears, or a kiss by rubbing noses, is not at all odder than throwing a rock.
It’s possible that there exists an entire code of agreed-upon signs and ways about which I, living all this time among the savages in China and Africa, know nothing.
“Maidenhood is distinguished by the fact that for it, everything takes on a different meaning than it has in reality.
For a virginal man, throwing a rock is not rocking one’s dignity to the same degree as even the slightest touch of the hand on a cheek.
An ordinary person, a normal woman, would run away with a scream; whereas she—she smiled on account of some unfathomable depths.
An ordinary person would think exclusively of fleeing the field of battle and, if only possible, saving their own skin; whereas for me, on the contrary, all is honor and the flag—the standard, that is, strictly speaking, a colored rag flapping in the wind.
For a virginal man, throwing a rock is not rocking one’s dignity to the same degree as even the slightest touch of the hand on a cheek.
An ordinary person, a normal woman, would run away with a scream; whereas she—she smiled on account of some unfathomable depths.
An ordinary person would think exclusively of fleeing the field of battle and, if only possible, saving their own skin; whereas for me, on the contrary, all is honor and the flag—the standard, that is, strictly speaking, a colored rag flapping in the wind.
“A monarchy is more virginal than a republic, since it contains more mystery than do the garrulous members of parliament.
A monarch—exalted, sinless, immaculate, free of responsibility—is a virgin, while to a lesser extent a general too is a virgin.
A monarch—exalted, sinless, immaculate, free of responsibility—is a virgin, while to a lesser extent a general too is a virgin.
“O sacred mystery of being, O miracle of existence: As I receive your gifts, I will not be the one to keep an eye on you.
Quite the opposite—nothing but a humbly inclined head, veneration and
gratitude, pantheism and contemplation, and no analyses disastrous in their consequences.
Maidenhood and mystery—that alone; then let us guard against the lifting of the sacred curtain.”
Quite the opposite—nothing but a humbly inclined head, veneration and
gratitude, pantheism and contemplation, and no analyses disastrous in their consequences.
Maidenhood and mystery—that alone; then let us guard against the lifting of the sacred curtain.”
For her part, Alice also abandoned herself to reflection.
“How strange the world is!
In it no one answers straightforwardly but always symbolically.
It’s never possible to find anything out.
Paul was of course recounting a legend.
I’m surrounded on all sides by symbols and legends, as if everyone were in cahoots against me.
Paradise, God .
.
.
who knows if that too wasn’t made up especially for me—for us young ladies.
I’m convinced that everyone is concealing something and pretending, and it’s all a conspiracy.
And Mama and Paul are in league together.
It’s pleasant to slurp one’s tea and step on puppy-dogs’ tails .
.
.
.
Yes .
.
.
.
Religion, duty and virtue, yet it seems to me that beyond this, as if it were a screen, there are certain strictly determined gestures, certain movements; that every lofty watchword like this will be brought down to a strictly determined gesture and a strictly determined point.
In it no one answers straightforwardly but always symbolically.
It’s never possible to find anything out.
Paul was of course recounting a legend.
I’m surrounded on all sides by symbols and legends, as if everyone were in cahoots against me.
Paradise, God .
.
.
who knows if that too wasn’t made up especially for me—for us young ladies.
I’m convinced that everyone is concealing something and pretending, and it’s all a conspiracy.
And Mama and Paul are in league together.
It’s pleasant to slurp one’s tea and step on puppy-dogs’ tails .
.
.
.
Yes .
.
.
.
Religion, duty and virtue, yet it seems to me that beyond this, as if it were a screen, there are certain strictly determined gestures, certain movements; that every lofty watchword like this will be brought down to a strictly determined gesture and a strictly determined point.
“Oh, I can imagine!
Normally everyone is dressed and behaves politely—but when they’re left one on one, the men throw rocks at the women, and the women smile because it hurts.
Then—they steal .
.
.
for did I myself not steal a silver spoon and bury it in the garden, not knowing what to do with it?—Mama sometimes reads aloud from the newspapers about thefts; now I understand what that means.
They steal, slurp their tea, tread on dogs’ feet and generally act out of spite, and this is love—while virgins are brought up in unawareness so that .
.
.
things should be more agreeable.
I’m all atremble.”
Normally everyone is dressed and behaves politely—but when they’re left one on one, the men throw rocks at the women, and the women smile because it hurts.
Then—they steal .
.
.
for did I myself not steal a silver spoon and bury it in the garden, not knowing what to do with it?—Mama sometimes reads aloud from the newspapers about thefts; now I understand what that means.
They steal, slurp their tea, tread on dogs’ feet and generally act out of spite, and this is love—while virgins are brought up in unawareness so that .
.
.
things should be more agreeable.
I’m all atremble.”
Alice to Paul:
Paul!
Things are not quite the way you say.
I feel so scattered!
Yesterday I heard Mama telling Father that the unemployed were “multiplying” horribly—that they walk around “half-naked,” eat all kinds of disgusting offal, and that the number of thefts, brawls, and robberies was shooting up.
Tell me everything—tell me what it means, what they need that “offal” for, why “half-naked”; Paul, I beg you, please, I want to know finally where I am; yours forever—Alice.
Things are not quite the way you say.
I feel so scattered!
Yesterday I heard Mama telling Father that the unemployed were “multiplying” horribly—that they walk around “half-naked,” eat all kinds of disgusting offal, and that the number of thefts, brawls, and robberies was shooting up.
Tell me everything—tell me what it means, what they need that “offal” for, why “half-naked”; Paul, I beg you, please, I want to know finally where I am; yours forever—Alice.
Paul to Alice:
My darling one!
What is whirling around in this noggin of mine!
I implore you by our love, never think about all that.
Admittedly there are such things, and one sees them sometimes; but by dwelling on them, one can lose one’s virginity just like that—and then what would happen?
The truth contained in purity is infinitely superior to the sordidness of reality.
Let us be unaware, let us live by innocence, by our youthful, virginal instinct, and let us guard from mentally looking into places we shouldn’t, as once happened to me in the past, when I met you.
Awareness disfigures, unawareness adorns; yours for all time
What is whirling around in this noggin of mine!
I implore you by our love, never think about all that.
Admittedly there are such things, and one sees them sometimes; but by dwelling on them, one can lose one’s virginity just like that—and then what would happen?
The truth contained in purity is infinitely superior to the sordidness of reality.
Let us be unaware, let us live by innocence, by our youthful, virginal instinct, and let us guard from mentally looking into places we shouldn’t, as once happened to me in the past, when I met you.
Awareness disfigures, unawareness adorns; yours for all time
—Paul.
“Instinct,” thought Alice—“instinct .
.
.
yes .
.
.
but what does that instinct want, what do
I
want in fact?
I myself don’t know .
.
.
to die, or to eat something tart.
I won’t regain my calm until .
.
.
I’m so unaware; I have a blindfold over my eyes, as Paul says .
.
.
at times it’s simply frightening .
.
.
Instinct, my virginal instinct—that will show me the way!”
.
.
yes .
.
.
but what does that instinct want, what do
I
want in fact?
I myself don’t know .
.
.
to die, or to eat something tart.
I won’t regain my calm until .
.
.
I’m so unaware; I have a blindfold over my eyes, as Paul says .
.
.
at times it’s simply frightening .
.
.
Instinct, my virginal instinct—that will show me the way!”
The next day she spoke to her fiancé, who was gazing in rapture at her elbow:
“Paul .
.
.
I sometimes have the wildest notions!”
.
.
I sometimes have the wildest notions!”
“So much the better, my darling; that’s exactly what I expected of you,” he responded.
“After all, what would you be without whims and notions.
I adore that pure unwisdom!”
“After all, what would you be without whims and notions.
I adore that pure unwisdom!”
“But my notions are strange, Paul .
.
.
so strange I’m embarrassed to say what they are.”
.
.
so strange I’m embarrassed to say what they are.”
“You can’t have any other kind, unaware as you are,” he replied.
“The wilder and the stranger the notion, the greater will be my zeal in carrying it out, my flower.
Yielding to it, I’ll pay homage to your virginity and mine.”
“The wilder and the stranger the notion, the greater will be my zeal in carrying it out, my flower.
Yielding to it, I’ll pay homage to your virginity and mine.”
“But .
.
.
you see .
.
.
it’s—in fact, it’s somehow different .
.
.
In any case, I’m sort of scattered by it.
Tell me, have .
.
.
have you also .
.
.
like other people .
.
.
have you ever stolen?”
.
.
you see .
.
.
it’s—in fact, it’s somehow different .
.
.
In any case, I’m sort of scattered by it.
Tell me, have .
.
.
have you also .
.
.
like other people .
.
.
have you ever stolen?”
“Who do you take me for, Alice?
What’s the meaning of these words?
Could you even for a moment be drawn to a man soiled by such an offense?
I’ve always tried to be pure and worthy of you, naturally in my own, male domain.”
What’s the meaning of these words?
Could you even for a moment be drawn to a man soiled by such an offense?
I’ve always tried to be pure and worthy of you, naturally in my own, male domain.”
“I don’t know, I don’t know, Paul—but tell me, only please, please be honest—tell me, have you ever, you know—deceived someone, or bit them, or walked around .
.
.
half-naked; or have you ever slept on a wall; or have you ever beaten someone, or licked them; or have you ever eaten something revolting?”
.
.
half-naked; or have you ever slept on a wall; or have you ever beaten someone, or licked them; or have you ever eaten something revolting?”
“Child!
What are you saying?
Where have you gotten all this from?
Alice, think for a moment .
.
.
I, lick someone or deceive them?
What about my honor?
You must be mad!”
What are you saying?
Where have you gotten all this from?
Alice, think for a moment .
.
.
I, lick someone or deceive them?
What about my honor?
You must be mad!”
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