Castle to Castle (21 page)

After we had exchanged our reports, complaints, and counter-complaints, I went to see the patients . . . in the Castle . . . from floor to floor, three or four every morning . . . I knew the place well . . . the corridors and the hangings, the real doors and false doors . . . the corkscrew stairways, cutting across wainscoating and beams . . . enough dark comers to be knifed in a thousand times over . . . and be left there to dry for centuries . . . the Hohenzollerns didn't deprive themselves . . . experts in traps and tipping corridors . . . and down into the void! . . . plunging into the Danube! . . . the Dynasty . . . mother of Europe. . . more than a thousand murders a day! . . . what did you think? . . . for eleven centuries! . . . Bluebeard's a piker with his six floozies in a closet! What could he ever expect to found? . . . And what did that make me look like, griping about their killing off my children with carrots . . . Brignon certainly agreed with me . . . but a lord vassal like him . . . he found it healthier to keep quiet . . . "Graf von Brinon" . . . said the sign on his door . . .

A funny thing was the orderlies, all of the regular French army, elite regiments . . . decorated . . . they must have had orderlies like that in London . . . the same? . . .

Laval's floor . . . I attended Laval now and then . . . I never came near Pétain . . . Brinon had suggested me, Ménétrel had just been arrested . . . "I'd rather die right away!" . . . that was the impression I made on Pétain, same as the people around here in Lower Meudon . . . or in Sèvres . . . or Boulogne . . . or my mother-in-law . . . hell I don't mind . . . you get used to having nobody like you . . . good riddance! good riddance! actually it's ideal . . . but how are you going to eat? . . . total isolation is all very well if you can afford it . . . to be disliked and grow old on your income! . . . that's true happiness! . . . to never never be pestered! . . . a dream! Easy for rich people, Achille for instance . . . yes, Achille . . . but he's not so dumb . . .

So I knew that Castle very well, every nook and cranny, but nothing like Lili . . . she was really at home . . . all the hiding places and labyrinths! the trick tapestries with exits through goddesses; the apartments, boudoirs, cupboards with triple bottoms, corkscrew stairways . . . all the false exits, all the zigzags and interlocked landings . . . riddles . . . should you go up? or down? . . . really a castle to get lost in . . . the lost corners . . . the work of centuries of Hohenzollerns. . . in every known style . . . Barbarossa, Renaissance, Baroque, 1900 . . . From one door to the next! could get lost . . . I was fascinated by the portraits . . . the mugs on that lousy family . . . prolific! . . . corridors and statues . . . equestrian and recumbent . . . every which way . . . Uglier and uglier Hohenzollerns . . . with arbalasts . . . in helmets, breastplates . . . court dress . . . Louis XV-style . . . and their bishops! . . . and their executioners! with axes this big! . . . in the darkest corridors . . . The painters didn't knock themselves out in those days, they put all the same profiles on them . . .

Me complaining to Brinon that the doctors were liquidating our kids! a look at the profiles of those princes was all I needed . . . those boys must have been rough liquidators: hunchbacks, beer bellies, soldiers, bowlegs . . . and not just children . . . What were we doing in Siegmaringen anyway? . . . kids or no kids! . . . running away from our destiny, which was to have our bowels stewed, our cocks cut in little pieces, our skins turned inside out . . . And where had it got us? I did quite a lot of meditating in the Hohenzollern corridors . . . from one portrait to the next . . . I can say that those princes attracted me . . . especially the ones from the distant past . . . heads three, four times bigger than Dullin's,° faces without shame, horribly ferocious . . . one look at them and you knew: those were creators of Dynasties! . . . Bonaparte seems more like a young lady—fine features, delicate hands à la Fragonard . . . but these Hohenzollerns, especially the early ones, when you see them you say: "What a bunch of Landrus!" . . . Another . . . even worse . . . Tropman!° . . . The spit and image of Deibler!° . . . a whole string . . . more and more treacherous . . . more and more cruel . . . grasping . . . monstrous! . . . hundreds of thoroughbred Landrus! . . . three . . . four stories of Landrus! Landru cousins . . . And down below . . . maces . . . scythes . . . spurs . . . slings . . . more and more sadistic! . . . Landru dauphins! not the timid Landru of Gambais! . . . puny, furtive, with a ramshackle stove picked up at the auction rooms . . . no! . . . these Landrus were sure of themselves! . . . the genuine article . . .
nom de Gott
. . . lances, breastplates, the whole works! coats-of-arms
mit uns
. . . whole floors of portraits! . . . the boot of
Gott
. . . no little rippers-up of fiancées . . . oh no! . . . all imperial torture masters! . . . the whole line! . . . fryers of duchies! . . . towns, fortresses, cloisters . . . roast 'em on the spit! like it or not! kettles! . . . kettles! . . .

Those mugs . . . whole processions of them . . . fascinating . . . between patients, between doors, I went to see them . . . especially the ones of the twelfth, thirteenth century . . . wait till you see them! all monsters! really? . . . that's easily said . . . but when you take a good look at them and think it over . . . more like devils . . . cloven hoofed! . . . with lances! . . . horns! . . . founders of dynasties! that family resemblance! demons! . . . it was when they stopped being devils that their family collapsed! . . . same with all Empires . . . I can see the Russkis slipping . . . B and K and M . . . look Luciferian enough . . . but they're not so sure of themselves . . . they put on airs, they wag their tanks, they dialectalize . . . they'll see . . . Lenin! . . . Stalin! . . . that was the real article! Satans a thousand-percent! . . . that's what the faces were like in the Hohenzollern galleries! five stories of them! plus the turrets! . . . founders with no nonsense about them! dynasties that last!

I'm a bit of an alchemist . . . you've probably noticed . . .
but
serious! . . . I'm not telling you any fairy tales . . . I weigh the pros and cons . . . I've shown you
La Publique
, now we're touring in the thick of History . . . diversity is my law! . . . Siegmaringen Hohenzollern! . . . you've got a good laugh coming to you . . . and the fascination of those portraits, busts, statues . . .

From one turn to the next, I got lost . . . I'm telling you, I admit it . . . Lili or Bébert found me . . . women have an instinct for labyrinths, for ins and outs . . . they find their way . . . animal instinct . . . it's order that stymies them! . . . the absurd is their dish . . . to them the whacky is normal . . . the Fashion for cats . . . attics, mazes, old barns . . . they're drawn irresistibly by Gothic manses . . . that we'd better stay out of . . . they're funny that way . . . that's embryogeny, the pirouettes and somersaults of the gametes . . . the perversity of the atoms . . . animals are the same way . . . take Bébert! . . . he'd peekaboo me through the transoms . . .
brrt!
. . .
brrt!
. . . big joke! . . . I couldn't see him. . . teasing me . . . cats, children, ladies have a world of their own . . . Lili went where she pleased all over the castle of the Hohenzollerns . . . from one maze of corridors to the next . . . from the bell-tower way up in the air to the armory on a level with the river . . . by sheer instinct! . . . reason!! only mix you up . . . wood or stone spirals, ladders . . . bends . . . up or down? . . . hangings, tapestries, false exits . . . all traps . . . even with a map you're lost . . . assassins in every corner . . . troubadours, bats, vagrant sprites . . . there's nothing you won't run into, I'm telling you, from one false exit, one false drapery to the next . . . on my way from Brinon's, or Marion's . . . or Y's . . . or Z's . . . I'm only giving you the names of dead people . . . I'll leave the survivors alone . . . the dead will do! . . . the ones who died in Spain . . . and the ones who ended up somewhere else . . . leave the gossip to the new Tacitus . . . I hear he's already been born . . . good! about the Castle he'll have to consult me . . . by that time it'll have toppled! . . . that worm-eaten wreck . . . equilibrium isn't eternal . . . fallen into the Danube . . . the
Schloss
and its library! laby
rinths! . . . woodwork! porcelain and dungeons! . . . into the drink! with its memories! . . . and all its thousands of princes and kings! down into the delta! . . . ah, crashing, impetuous Danube! the river will carry it all away! . . . ah
Donau blau!
. . . my ass! . . . crashing fury, carrying off the Castle and its bells . . . and all its demons! . . . Don't be bashful! Do your stuff I and the trophies and the armor and the banners, and
the
trumpets loud enough to shake the whole Black Forest, so vibrant that the pine trees can't take it! . . . they totter and fall . . . in avalanches . . . and that's the end of enchanted castle, ghosts, triple cellars and potteries! Apothecaries and pots! . . . porphyry Apollos! . . . ebony Venuses! all carried away by the torrent! and the Huntress Dianas! whole floors of Huntress Dianas! . . . Apollos! . . . Neptunes! . . the loot of demons in breastplates, ten centuries of pillage! the work of seven dynasties! you'll see when you get there, the warehouse of superloot . . . I won't try to outdo Tacitus, but you can imagine that ten centuries of demon gangsters is something! . . . and kings to boot! and that the Rome-Prussia traffic was nothing to sneeze at, those caravans of fat merchants! . . . ah, Dianas! . . . Venuses! . . . Apollos! . . . antiques! . . . Cupids! . . . traveling merchants! You can imagine whether the princes helped themselves! . . . the Hohenzollerns! . . . the gangsters of the Danube! . . . whether they furnished their barn!.,. . . with really very nice things! . . . I'm a good judge . . . I saw Pétain's apartment . . . his seven drawing rooms on the seventh floor . . . and Gabold's° on the fourth . . . all Dresden . . . floors of rosewood marquetry . . . marvelous workmanship . . . you couldn't duplicate it for billions today . . . the skills are gone . . . or those little tea services! . . . oh no! . . . or Laval's place on the third floor . . . First Empire . . . bees, eagles . . . perfection . . . the velvets . . . authentic Lyons . . . they don't make them anymore . . .

That's the way dynasties furnish their houses . . . pell-mell . . . the draperies, the ornaments . . . fantastic monstrous barn, a little overgrown, I've got to admit, three times the size of Notre-Dame! . . . and the whole thing balanced on a rock . . . and leaning! . . . anybody who goes
to
see it
will tell you . . . innocent tourists, they won't glom anything, too flabbergasted, knocked cold! . . . from what? . . . from seeing! . . . the chests, the thousands of thingumajigs, the souvenirs, the bric-à-brac . . .

I'm telling you all this ass backwards . . . according to the tremors of my bed . . . I don't know what's shaking me like this . . . my fever? . . . the spring collapsing? . . . I'm not trembling quite so much . . . I think . . . That business down on the riverfront didn't do me any good at all . . .
La Publique
. . . and that crummy crowd of tightrope walkers . . . and their insults! . . . and my malaria coming back . . . and the wind of the Seine! . . . everything's twisting and turning . . ; that's how it is . . . I'm not up to it any more . . . He's obscene, you'll say . . .

"Do you feel better? How do you feel?

"Oh, you know . . . not so bad . . ."

I thought of this and that . . . I'm boring you again . . .
Yes, I thought of the way she was at home in that castle . . .
never lost . . . the way she'd find me in some corridor . . .
fascinated, looking at one more Hohenzollern . . . Hjalmar
. . . Kurt . . . Hans . . . another . . . a hunchback . . .
yes . . . yes .. I didn't tell you . . . they were all hunch
backed! Burchard . . . Wenceslas . . . Conrad . . . they're 
driving me nuts . . . twelfth . . . thirteenth . . . fifteenth of 
the name! Centuries . . . centuries! . . . centuries! . . .
hunchbacked and no legs! . . . cloven goat's hoofs . . . all 
of them . . . Landru Devils! . . . ah, I see them! I see them 
all! their warts too! . . . that family wart! . . . on the ends of 
their noses . . .
 

The head is a kind of factory that doesn't run exactly the way you'd like . . . imagine . . . two thousand billion neurons . . . all a complete mystery . . . where does that get you? . . . neurons left to their own resources! the slightest attack, your head goes haywire, you can't pin down a single idea . . . you're ashamed of yourself . . . Here on my ass like this, I'd like to tell you some more . . . about pictures, coats-of-arms, secret passageways, draperies . . . but I'm lost . . . I can't find anything . . . my head's turning . . . yes, but wait. . . I'll get back to you . . . and my Castle . . and my head! . . . later . . . later . . . I remember a word! . . . animal instinct, I said . . . Bébert . . . I've got the thread back . . . Bébert was at home in that Castle from the top of the turrets to the cellars . . . he and Lili would meet in one corridor or another . . . they didn't talk to each other . . . they behaved as if they'd never seen each other before . . . each for himself . . . the animal waves are like that, a quarter of a millimeter off and you're not yourself . . . you don't exist . . . a different world! . . . same mystery with Bessy, my dog, later in the woods in Denmark . . . she'd run away . . . I'd call her . . . blue in the face . . . she didn't hear me . . . off on a binge . . . she'd pass, she'd brush against us . . . ten times! . . . twenty times! . . . like an arrow! . . . and away she'd go around the trees so fast you couldn't see her legs! bat out of hell! . . . I could call her! I'd gone out of existence . . . Yet I loved that dog . . . and I think she loved me too . . . but her animal life came first . . . for two, three hours . . . I didn't count . . . this was one of her escapades . . . wild in the animal world . . . woods, meadows, rabbits, deer, ducks . . . she came back with bleeding paws, affectionate . . . she died here in Meudon, she's buried over there, right next to the house, in the garden, I can see the mound . . . a painful death . . . cancer, I think . . . she wanted to die there outside . . . I held her head . . . I held her in my arms up to the end . . . really a splendid animal . . . a joy to look at her . . . a vibrant joy . . . she was so beautiful! . . . not a flaw . . . coat, build, stance . . . nothing like it in the dog shows! . . .