Leopoldo Marechal - Adam Buenosayres

— So? he asked. Are we to admit that a frog in a fit of sublimity, or a bit of froggish sublimate, should triumph before the bulge-eyed gaze of the ox? Must we admit that, before the conceited sufficiency of a mouse, an elephant should flatten itself into an elephant compress? 116

At this point, I noticed, the two crewmen suddenly renounced pursuit and exchanged an intense, panic-stricken glance. The infernal craft shot frantically across the water toward the shore where we were to disembark. But the orator swam after us.

— No, a thousand times no! he said in response to the questions he’d just posed. We’ll make the frog and the mouse assume verticality without self-destruction. A vertical frog, who knows itself to be both frog and vertical; a vertical mouse, who knows itself to be both mouse and vertical. So declares the Contour of Life! 117Thus spoke the great Caesar and his Pontifex Maximus!

His final words came now only as a distant whisper. The orator had given up following us, but I could still hear him:

— Dwarves-from-around-here! Do ye wish to become giants-from-over-there?

Then, nothing. Our swiftly fleeing boat had just touched the far shore. The astrologer and I disembarked.

XI

I disembarked, alas, only to discover immediately that our excursion over the lagoon had been but a poetic interlude in the Schultzian symphony or, better put, a diversionary scene like the ones you often see at the theatre, mounted on the proscenium in front of the drawn curtain, while behind it the stagehands are preparing the main stage for the drama. No sooner were we out of the boat than Schultz started lecturing me on the topic of Wrath; his speech boded no good, and my previous experiences justified any amount of wariness:

— Sad is the destiny of corporal creatures! lamented the astrologer. They are limited to local movement, displacing themselves to the right or left, up or down, forward or backward: in sum, six rectilinear movements, condemning them to inevitable collisions and making them liable to react with anger. 118Circular motion is reserved for purely spiritual creatures; rotating around their centres, they can recognize and communicate with one another without violence. Man is situated between corporal and spiritual entities, being a hybrid freak whose invention Jehovah was later to rue, whether in a fit of anger or pity or remorse, we still don’t know. Possessing both a body and a soul, man fluctuates between the rectilinear motion of his body and the circular motion of his spirit. If body and soul are in harmony, there is no conflict between the two types of motion, but rather a state of peace in which both combine to produce motion of a third kind, undulatory or sinuous. Participating at once in local and circular movement, wave motion is most appropriate for human creatures, since it corresponds to their mixed nature and prevents them colliding (the curve being the line of detour and non-resistance). The first Adam in Paradise no doubt moved thus, as though dancing; and I believe the art of the dance to be a reminiscence of that paradisal motion.

— So what’s the point of this dissertation? I asked in displeasure.

— The point will be crystal clear, Schultz told me, when you see how today’s Adams move.

We followed the curved hallway that surely led to the seventh Inferno, and before long we heard muffled explosions, their sound apparently arising from below. The detonations shook the ground we walked upon, cracked the side walls, and dislodged chunks of masonry from the ceiling. Then, associating recollections from literature with Schultz’s recent dissertation, I understood the curve was taking us into the infernal circle of Wrath. But I had no time to dwell on my fears, because we were already coming out in front of a vast boxing ring, lit from above by spotlights whose glare blinded me. When I could see clearly again, the entire ring came into view; a group of characters was stationed at intervals throughout its area. At the back, in the right and left corners, were two pulpits or rostrums; a lookout holding a megaphone was posted on each of them. Between one pulpit and the other, against the wall, loomed the circular door of a gigantic boiler that put me in mind of the engine-room of a battleship.

No sooner had I concluded my inspection than the lookout on the left, who must have noticed us, raised the megaphone to his lips and shouted in alarm:

— Two fops in sight! Have an eye, you guys in the ring!

— Ahoy, mates! exclaimed the other lookout. Gunners to your stations!

Greatly astonished, I recognized the voice of Franky Amundsen, especially in that shout straight out of pirate novels. Turning back to the first lookout, I also recognized Del Solar; he was lowering the megaphone so he could take a puff on his mile-long, glass cigarette holder. The characters in the ring suddenly sprang into action, strategically aligning themselves like soccer players on the pitch. In the front line, I saw the Carter from the Hayloft, the malev o Di Pasquo, the taita Flores, and the pesado Rivera. At right mid-ring, the Three Necrophile Sisters-in-Law were already assaulting us with dirty looks, while on the left La Chacharola was brandishing her terrible broomstick. Juancho and Yuyo had climbed onto the pulpit covers and were belligerently surveying the scene.

— A cardboard Dante and a vaudeville Virgil! Franky Amundsen shouted again. Don’t let them through, mates!

— La putta de tua mamma! La Chacharola shouted at us, hurling her broomstick in our direction.

The tough guys in the front line were now bobbing and feinting, jabbing at the air with knife-thrusts and punches.

— Leave ’em to me! thundered the Carter. I’ll show those fops!

— Sock ’em in the eye! Juancho shouted down at him.

— Stuck-up twits! spat the taita Flores. Come on over, if you’ve got the balls!

— They ain’t guys from the barrio! cried Yuyo, egging him on. Plough him one in the gut!

The Three Necrophile Sisters-in-Law clenched their fists.

— Poking their noses into other people’s business, clucked Matilde. And they call that literature?

— They can tell that to my tea-kettle! scolded Dolores, patting her derrière.

The pesado Rivera took off a shoe:

— Gentlemen, he said, don’t waste ammunition on seagulls. Leave them to me!

— Not like that! protested Di Pasquo, the malevo . It’s gotta be a clean fist fight!

Having become quite familiar with Schultz’s technique, I was sure the circular door of the boiler would be the portal to the sector of the irascibles; to get there we were going to have to cross the boxing ring and somehow find our way past all those menacing lunatics. How to accomplish this miracle? I was at a loss until the astrologer spoke to them insidiously:

— Wimps! he said. You’re not up to fighting mano a mano . That’s why you have to gang up!

When the Carter heard this, he turned every hue imaginable:

— You lie, if you’re talkin’ about me! he howled right away. There’s three slaughtermen in Liniers can tell you whether I fight mano a mano!

— Bah! Schultz shot back. According to the taita Flores, who’s right here with us, it was only one slaughterman you fought. He says the fellow gave you a nice shiner.

— You said that? the Carter roared at the taita . I had a sneakin’ suspicion you were goin’ around trashin’ my name.

And without another word he felled Flores with an epic punch.

— Careful, you guys in the ring! cried Franky through the megaphone. Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s trying to sow discord!

But the taita Flores was already back up and having at the Carter in a hailstorm of blows. And because Di Pasquo and Rivera tried to mediate between the two, it wasn’t long before they were catching stray punches and conscientiously repaying them in kind. The Three Necrophile Sisters-in-Law then moved forward into position.