Carlos Rojas - The Ingenious Gentleman and Poet Federico García Lorca Ascends to Hell

“Everyone is looking at you, Señor Ruiz Alonso,” said the man with the scar in the same quiet, uninflected voice.

The old man pretended he hadn’t heard, or perhaps he hadn’t, since he was lost in his farce, as unreal and outsized as that of a clown in the earliest films. He didn’t turn to confirm the presence of his unexpected audience, but he lowered the tone of his complaints.

“And I forgive everything because at my age one knows that we’re nobody. I forgive everything, I do, but I don’t understand what pleasure these foreigners find in harming us. In another time I would have said that this is the eternal anti-Spanish conspiracy. Now the truth is I don’t know what to say.” He shook his head wearily, but again, suddenly he seemed to recover. “Listen, where were we?”

“According to you, the acting governor ordered you to arrest him.”

“Ah, yes! That’s the truth. ‘Take the protection you need and arrest him immediately,’ he repeated. I said I didn’t need any, and my prestige and courage were enough. ‘Even so you should take along an escort,’ he said unwillingly and as if it pained him to tell me the whole truth, ‘because he’s hiding in the house of a Falange officer. A high-ranking officer.’ The news surprised and even shocked me, because back then I was very young and inflexible. I called a spade a spade, understand? Either them or us, period. Anyway, I stood firm in my intention to arrest that gentleman, may he rest in peace, all by myself, because my morality and reputation would open all the doors in the city to me.”

“There are very different versions of events. Even today people swear that soldiers and armed men in civilian clothes, all following your orders, occupied the street, and that you even stationed men on the roofs to prevent a poet from escaping.”

“Lies! Nothing but vicious lies! The people who were hiding him, I’m ashamed to even say their names and not because I hid him, of course, but because of the vile things they said about me, they were the ones who circulated those rumors. They claim I assaulted their house protected by an army, as if it were a fortress. No, sir! I did it alone and unprotected because, as I told you, I’m very Christian but also very macho.”

“On this point I can’t believe you.”

“What? What did you say?”

“I said that on this point I can’t believe you. There are many witnesses who claim the exact opposite. The street was occupied.”

“Lies! Nothing but vicious lies! If you knew the number of falsehoods that distort the truth of events, almost all of them intended to dishonor me! Look, let’s take an example that refers more to that poor gentleman, may he rest in peace, than to myself. They’ve told the fairy tale of his pathological panic. Being a queer meant he also had to be a coward. That’s how their minds work, these evil, primitive people who then pass themselves off as educated … ”

“Who?”

“What? What did you say? … ”

“I asked whom you were referring to.”

“Well, all of them! Who else would I be referring to? The Englishman or Irishman, the Frenchman, and you too if you don’t believe the truth when I testify to it on my word of honor. The fact is this: that gentleman, God rest his soul, always maintained a courage that deserves to be commended. I’ll swear to that with my hand on the Bible. I told him to hurry, but I allowed him to say goodbye to the people who were sheltering him. He came back almost immediately and spoke to me very calmly. ‘Well the family here says the best thing is for me to go with you. But why do they want me at the Civilian Government?’ ‘I have no idea,’ I replied, not lying to him. ‘They’ve only asked me to guarantee that you arrive safe and sound. I have no other mission. Will you come with me?’ ‘Well, then, yes, in that case I’ll come with you.’ ‘Very good, very good,’ I agreed. ‘Then let’s go.’ When we entered the Civilian Government building, someone tried to hit him with the butt of a short musket, because there are cowards like that everywhere. I jumped in like a wild animal; I ordered him to attention and shouted: ‘How dare you, you wretch? In my presence!’ That poor gentleman, may God have mercy on him! felt so grateful he offered me a cigarette. ‘No, thank you very much. I’ve never smoked. But if I can be of service in any way, you need only ask.’ ‘No, sir, I wanted only to give you my thanks and an embrace …’ Those were his exact words: ‘… give you my thanks and an embrace for your kindness to me. I’ll never forget how you’ve behaved.’ We embraced and I was going out, leaving him under guard in the governor’s waiting room, when it occurred to me to say: ‘At least permit me to send an orderly for some chicken broth. A nice broth, even if it’s a Maggi, never does any harm,’ because that’s how courteous and gentlemanly I am. ‘All right, some broth then,’ he agreed, and those were the last words I heard him say, because yours truly left then for his house. I never saw him again, and never imagined on that afternoon that they would kill him. That’s the complete truth, and I’d repeat it if we were in the presence of Our Lord Jesus Christ, nailed on His cross. That’s also how I’ll testify before His divine tribunal, when my final hour comes and I appear for judgment … ”

“There are other versions of events very different from yours. Testimonies from people who would also confirm them in the presence of God or any man, yourself included. You’ve been quoted as saying, at the moment you arrested him: ‘I’ve come to arrest you and take you to the Civilian Government because you did more harm with your books than others have with their pistols.”’

“Death and damnation! May God strike me dead, right here at this table, if that isn’t the biggest of the lies! By the Holy Sacrament! … Are you listening to me? By the Holy Sacrament, I swear to you again that this is the vilest of all the libels.” Ruiz Alonso spoke very quietly, and the man with the marked face frowned as if making an effort to hear him or believe him. “How could I have said anything so absurd if I hadn’t read any of his books back then?”

“And you’ve read them now?”

“Yes I have read them, after I bought the leather-bound edition of his Complete Works in a single volume. I’ve already told you that as the years go by, even the worst memories become muddied and cool down. Still, you must understand that I couldn’t sit down alone with his poems if I felt responsible for his death. When he was arrested I had only heard about one of his poems, the one about the unfaithful wife, because at that time all of Spain was reciting it … All right, what do you want me to say? I’m going to be very sincere about this too. Back then I thought it was an obscenity, because I’m essentially a Christian gentleman and believe that sins like that, and I’d never throw the first stone, should not be available to innocent, impressionable young people.”

“You said you still had erections that were a pleasure to see, Señor Ruiz Alonso. You added that it wasn’t a boast.”

“And it isn’t, my dear sir, it isn’t because even though I’m devout, I’m a man and a sinner. I’m also older and find in that poem artistic merits I couldn’t see before. Even so, I still don’t like it. The one I love is the one about the man who’s told he’s been summoned by death on June 25th and on August 25th he lies down to die, with the supreme dignity of heroes and saints. Look, it has so much grandeur in its simplicity that sometimes tears came to my eyes when I read it and remembered the poor gentleman accepting his final broth from me.”

“Very well, go on.”

“I don’t want to hide anything from you. I, my dear sir, am an open book. If you ask my opinion regarding the death of that unfortunate …”