The Complete Works Read online

  At once, as by a secret signal, all Olympus rose to its feet. A thunder of screams and threats broke loose from all sides. Everybody was fulminating against the shame thrown upon Olympus by a clumsy mortal. Commanded by both Apollo and Mars, a vigorous hand wrenched off the fig-leaf and replaced it by the object with which Fuchs should have been endowed. Furthermore, strict orders were given that in future fig-leaves should only be allowed on statues... A gracious hand, the very rosy-scented hand of Aphrodite, grasped the artist by the ear and with a noble but energetic gesture threw him into Chaos.

  IV

  A rain of threats and screams, a shower of dissonances, of inverted and unresolved discords, of interrupted cadences, false relations, trills and especially of pauses, fell upon the hunted musician from all sides. A hail of sharps and well- sharpened flats kept on hitting him in the back, then a longer rest broke his spectacles. Some of the nastier Gods hit him with shinbones, aeolian harps and cymbals and — the peak of revenge — they even pelted him with the scores of "Acteon", "Polyeucte" and Enesco's Third Symphony whose inspired music truly came this time straight from Olympus.

  At last Fuchs's fate was decided. First he had to wander in Chaos at an unheard-of speed, in five-minute circuits round the planet Venus; then, in order to expiate fully the outrage he had inflicted on Venus, he was to live alone on the deserted planet with the obligation of producing progeny there all by himself: that superior race of artists which should have arisen from his union with Aphrodite on Mount Olympus.

  Fuchs had just begun to serve his sentence when the merciful Pallas Athene unexpectedly intervened in his favor. Permission was granted for him to fall to earth on one condition: since there is so much useless progeny there already, both artistic and inartistic, there was no longer any need to create another race; Fuchs descended therefore with instructions to eliminate all forms of snobbery and cowardly thought in art in all corners of the earth.

  Thus placed in a terrible dilemma, after long and serious pondering, the artist decided that this last condition imposed upon him was much more difficult to fulfill than the one forcing him to procreate alone on the planet Venus. While wandering through Chaos he took a truly heroic decision. He announced that he was ready to accept the favor granted him by Pallas Athene with all the obligations it entailed; but as he was approaching Earth he made a mighty effort and turning slightly to the right he fell into that very district, of some ill-repute, whence he had departed and towards which he felt particularly attracted.

  As he now felt well equipped he very much wanted to learn and put into practice there all that he had not known before, so that later, fully initiated, he might request an audience with Venus and try to compensate for what had previously been lacking. In this way, he thought, the procreation of the new race would prove feasible, and at the same time he would be exempt from fulfilling on Earth the impossible duty which bad been laid upon him.

  However, when the servants of pleasure, who had earlier received him with open arms, learned of his new intentions, they surrounded him on every side and stopped him firmly from advancing. Vexed and saddened, waving their arms in protest, they excommunicated him from the district, shouting in unison:

  "Woe to you, Fuchs, you are lost to us and we don't recognize you anymore. Once you were the only one since Plato to know what pure love means. How can you now come amongst us with such impure thoughts! Wretched us who will henceforward be deprived of the aesthetics of your sonatas; and wretched you who must forever lack the inspiration of our lofty love! Shame on her who, although our patron saint, the mistress of Olympus and of the whole world, has failed to understand you and by rejecting both your love and your art has caused you to fall from such a great height!... Go away, Fuchs, you are no longer worthy of us. Go away, you dirty satyr! You of all people dared to scorn the most noble organ, the ear? Go away, Fuchs, you put the district to shame! Go away and may the Gods protect you!"

  Thus excommunicated, and fearing a possible outburst of liquid anger, Fuchs hurried to the piano and began to pedal zestfully and continuously until at last he reached his peaceful home, with his morale at very low ebb, disillusioned and disgusted by both men and gods, by both love and he muses.

  He ran out to fetch his umbrella from the mender's, then taking the piano with him, disappeared for ever into the bosom of nature — majestic and infinite...

  Whence music radiates with equal power in all directions, thus fulfilling in part the message of grateful Destiny which decreed that through his scales, concertos and staccato studies, Fuchs should carry the message even further; that he should, in time, bring about on this planet by dint of education a better and superior race of men for his own glory and for the glory of the piano and of Eternity.

  GOING ABROAD

  Almost all the preparations for the journey had been made. In the end he had even managed to pay his rent, with the help of his two elderly ducks, who once again did not let him depend on his neighbor’s charity. All they could ask in return was that they should be allowed every day, at least an hour, in his study, which exhaled such a sweet, intoxicating smell of window-frames.

  He climbed into the boat. A strong and unconquerable paternal sentiment recalled him to land, where, with a nervous and absent-minded gesture, and in the midst of his beloved people, he sewed two blotting-pads on to the moldy lining of his dinner-jacket, and immediately afterwards, without wasting more time, crept unnoticed into the low-ceilinged room at the bottom of the yard. There he adopted the Jewish faith.

  He had not a moment to lose. Having reached his seventieth year with a glorious past behind him, his days were numbered. His only wish was to be able to celebrate his silver wedding anniversary. To do this, he summoned all of his servants and, after first inviting them to peck some hemp seed, threw them into a lime pit. Three third-class permanent civil servants and one archdeacon followed. He himself, to pacify the crowd, which had started to murmur, chopped three fingers off his left hand and climbed on to a three- legged shoemaker's stool. From there, at last, to everyone's satisfaction, his silky goatee could float freely and unhindered over the cold fresh water of the crystal fountain.

  Afterwards he climbed back into the boat. His old wife refused to follow him, consumed by the worm of jealousy over a liaison which she suspected he was carrying on with a seal. However, conscious of her wifely duties, and not wishing to appear ill-bred, on his departure she offered him two unleavened loaves, a Borgovan sketch-book and a box-kite, which he refused indignantly while shaking some hazelnuts into a sack.

  Ambitious like all women, and unable to bear the affront of his rejection of her offering, the good-for-nothing wife tied him by his cheek-bones with a string and, having dragged him barbarously to the edge of the boat, lifted him up and dropped him unceremoniously on the bank.

  Disgusted with life and overwhelmed by both the glory and the number of his years, he took off his fur cap, at the same time receiving his last orders, which were also his last wishes. He renounced all his titles and wealth, stripped himself naked, leaving only a lime-tree rope round his waist and, after looking once again at the infinite sea, climbed into the first horse-cart with arches that came his way and, as soon as the galloping horses had reached the first town, rushed to become a barrister...

  CONCLUSION AND MORAL:

  All you who for a restful night and sleep should care.

  Don't exchange your picture postcards with the Carligat's Mayor...

  GAYK

  Gayk is the only civilian to wear a prop for a gun on his right shoulder. All the time his throat goes in and his morale goes up. He cannot be hostile to anyone for long, but because of his sideways glance, the direction sometimes taken by his pointed nose, and the fact that he is almost completely covered with smallpox scars and that his nails are uncut, he looks as if he is ready, any moment, to jump on you and peck at you.

  Well sharpened at both ends and curved like an arch, Gayk stoops slightly forwards, thus easily dominating his surrou
ndings. He insists on being prepared for any eventuality, therefore sleeps in his tail-coat and white gloves, with a diplomatic note hidden under his pillow, plus a respectable quantity of biscuits and... a machine-gun.

  During the day, Gayk cannot bear to wear any other clothes but two small lace curtains, one in front, the other behind, which with his permission anyone can easily pull aside.

  He spends his time swimming for twenty-three hours at a stretch, but only in a north-south direction, for fear of coming out of neutrality. In his free hour he gets inspiration from muses wearing military hoots.

  Gayk has no children. However, while he was still at high school, he adopted a niece, who at the time was working on an embroidery frame. He spared himself no sacrifice to give her a good education, and took care to send a waiter to her boarding school each day to beg her in his name to wash her hair every Saturday and to work hard to acquire general knowledge without fail.

  This industrious and conscientious niece soon reached maturity in a short time and, one day, noticing that she had acquired her general knowledge, asked her beloved uncle to free her from boarding school and allow her to come home and work in the fields...

  Encouraged by the fact that he readily agreed, she did not hesitate to ask him later if she could secure an access to the sea. Gayk, instead of answering, suddenly jumped on her, and pecked at her innumerable times; she, considering this contrary to international principles and without previous notice, declared herself to be in a state of war — a war which lasted more than three years, covering a front of nearly seven hundred kilometers.

  Both fought with great heroism, receiving payment instead of food, but in the end, Gayk being appointed field-marshal on the battlefield and being unable to find there and then a military tailor to fix on his new stripes, decided to stop fighting and sued for peace. This suited the niece perfectly, as she had just developed a boil; also, because her retreat had been cut off, the neutrals could no longer send her beans or petrol.

  The first exchange of prisoners, for which they obtained modest prices, took place at the booking office of the theatre of operations. Afterwards, they agreed to sign a dishonorable peace treaty. Gayk pledged himself never to peck at anyone again, restricting himself to only a quarter of a pound of corn, which his niece promised to bring him daily, under the guarantee and control of the great powers; in exchange, his niece obtained, at last, a path, two centimeters wide, leading to the sea, but not the right to dispense with a bathing costume, Yet, in the end, both parties were entirely satisfied, since a secret clause gave each the right in future to raise his morale as high as possible.

  COTADI AND DRAGOMIR

  Cotadi is short and bulgy with prominent musculature. His legs are bent twice out and once in, and he never shaves. His hair, as black as a crow's feathers, is full of dandruff and covered with shiny sequins and expensive tortoise-shell combs.

  Cotadi is hardly ever in an upright position because of a special suit made of plywood, forming a kind of armor. Though extremely uncomfortable he wears this with complete self-sacrifice next to his skin, underneath a peasant shirt with tassels from which he never parts. One of Cotadi's peculiarities is that, without wishing to, he becomes twice as broad and completely transparent — but this only happens twice a year — to be precise, when the sun reaches its solstice.

  As well as gluing various buttons and dead insects on to the fine velvety skin of his goiter, Cotadi's greatest pleasure is to try slyly, from behind the counter where he is sitting, to provoke some of his customers into argument, at first as pleasantly as possible, then becoming more and more excited until, by raising his voice, he succeeds in letting himself be contradicted at least once; then he answers his opponent by banging loudly on the floor with the edge of a piano lid screwed over his buttocks. He brings this into action on such occasions and so astonishes his customers and terrifies those who are of weaker nature.

  This piano lid serves as a wall on which Cotadi urinates, particularly in winter when it is too cold to leave the shop and go outside, although this must be very uncomfortable because the lid is attached at the back, not at the front. Should need arise it also serves the same purpose for his older customers or more intimate friends, although when the mechanism was first installed, Cotadi was unwilling to allow any concessions, hence the inscription by a house painter on the lid: "Commit No Nuisance."

  Cotadi is also known to live only on ants' eggs, which he swallows through a funnel, while at the same time he belches soda water; moreover, for six months each year, he is blocked with the cork of a champagne bottle, and each time he pulls it out he tries to divide it into non-transferable plots of land which he distributes to the rural population in the hope of solving, in a way entirely empirical and primitive, the delicate and complex agrarian problem.

  As to Cotadi's origin or relations nothing definite is known. It is thought that he came of a noble family whose last surviving descendant is an old aunt living in the suburbs who sends him every day letters full of epigrams in the Macedonian dialect and small parcels full of chaff, hoping to exasperate him to such an extent that he would renounce his share in the estate after her death. She sends the letters through a clever boy called Tudose, who wears striped trousers and has nickel-plated ears.

  Cotadi, who is a rational man after all, knows how to deal with the old woman's idiosyncrasies, finding consolation from the miseries of life in the sincere affection of an old school-mate and his best friend by the name of Dragomir.

  Dragomir is very tall, with a snub nose, round and very mobile eyes, a thin neck shaped like a corkscrew the color of "white" coffee. Two locks of fine hair, shiny and black as crows' feathers, hang like a tape-measure over his round neck; from their ends two drops of clear French olive oil continually drip.

  Dragomir is very kind-hearted. Whenever he sees that his beloved Cotadi, with all his knocking on the floor with the edge of the piano lid, has not succeeded in scaring the naïve customer who had the impudence to contradict him, Dragomir, imagining how delicious must be the artistic sensations expected by his friend, jumps to his aid and, in order to overcome the obstinate customer, extends his neck with an extra piece of cardboard 1 in. 20 cm. long. Up this, ivy and other trailing plants entwine and at the top there is a weather-vane indicating the four cardinal points.

  For all these important services, as well as for keeping the accounts, and for feeding the poultry with grains every day and for officiating as attorney whenever Cotadi has a court case, Dragomir is amply rewarded by being allowed to join his friend any evening for a dinner of tiny octopus legs and bread. In addition, on Sundays and on various religious occasions, he receives a bowl full of berries which often conceals a reel of cotton for mending socks, and this gives Dragomir great pleasure. Moreover, in rainy weather, Dragomir, with his whole family, is allowed to spend the night in the left half of a niche in the wall, by the gate of Cotadi's home, the other hall being reserved for the policeman on his daytime beat.

  It is a long time since there has been any news of these two great heroes. The latest rumor is that Cotadi, a practical man, conscious of what a precious and exceptional friend he has acquired in Dragomir, is doing his utmost to lay hands on the eternal source of riches inside Dragomir's head. To achieve this he has stipulated in his last will and testament that they both share the same grave, thus hoping that from the two drops of the finest French olive oil falling every second from his friend's locks of hair, there will in time spring up large olive groves which, together with the land that will rightfully become family property, will produce free olive oil enough to keep the icon-lamp burning according to the Orthodox rite.

  AFTER THE STORM

  The rain stopped and the last wisps of cloud dispersed. With wet clothes and disheveled hair, he wandered at dead of night looking for shelter...

  Without realizing, he arrived at the old and time-eaten crypt of the monastery. As he came nearer and looked more carefully, he sniffed at it and licked it about 56 ti
mes uninterruptedly without getting any results. Annoyed, he took out his sword and pounced into the courtyard, but was quickly brought to a standstill — deeply moved by the gentle glance of a hen, ready to welcome him. Shyly, yet beaming with Christian charity, the hen asked him to wait a few moments in the office. Gradually calming down, then moved to tears and overwhelmed by shudders of remorse, he gave up every thought of revenge and after kissing the hen on the forehead and putting it in a safe place for preservation, he began to sweep out all the cloisters; then scrubbed the floors with rubbish.

  When that was finished he began to count his coppers and climbed into a tree to await the next morning. "What splendor! What magnitude!" he exclaimed, full of ecstasy at the sight of nature, coughing significantly from time to time and jumping from branch to branch, while at the same time secretly doing his best to release into the sky at regular intervals several flies, under whose tails he would introduce long sheets of vellum paper.

  But this state of happiness did not last long. Three travelers who at first pretended to be his friends but who, in the end, alleged that they had come as envoys of the Income Tax, began to pester him with all sorts of reprimands, denying him for example even the right to stay perched in the tree.

  To show, however, that they could also believe and refrain from making direct use of the restrictions which they were entitled by law to enforce, they tried by all possible means to persuade him to climb down. At first they promised to give him regular colonic irrigation, then they offered to rent him a few sacks, a number of aphorisms, and some sawdust.