Alexander Theroux - Darconville’s Cat

—from Thubui, the happy hierodule,

—from Nyctimene, who metamorphosed

into an owl,

—from Mother Uphill, underfonger and

venerilla,

—from Kriemhild and her

hollowpampered hoors,

—from Linda Maestra, the hag of Goya,

—from Argive Helen, the deceitful

swawmx,

—from Queen Draga Maschin of Black

Head,

—from Xanthippe, the conjugal scold,

—from Biddy the Clap,

—from Deianire of Pyrite, the ravening

prickamouse,

—from Marianne and her caprices,

—from Catherine Earnshaw, the

bouncing ramp,

—from Kullikrahvinna,

the Estonian pedicatress,

—from Dame Jinx and her catch-coin

justice,

—from Mylitta, the Babylonian

rumbelow,

—from Faustina the spermologress,

—from Aurelia Orestilla, the ginch

of Catiline,

—from Cina Grofica, the Serbocroatian

sunt,

—from Suzanne Valadon, the obstinate

minx,

—from Mère Folle, the cock-brained

fribble,

—from all Frows, Drabs, Ogresses,

Ralaratri, and Ponderous

Nopsters. .”

The dirgeful hymn of the dead continued as Crucifer, pausing again for breath, could now even ignore Darconville suffering in his bed so intent was he upon the frenzy of names that so hollowly echoed through the room. He only puffed out his cheeks, humped his back, and hissed on:

“—from Joanna of Naples, the nonpareil

of bawds, libera nos, Domine

—from Praxagoras, the angry bellows,

—from Antonina Miliukova Tchaikovsky,

the nieve,

—from Queen Cecropia the hypersubtle,

—from the Witch of Endor and her broth,

menses, and materials,

—from Maria Beadnell, the pinchpin,

—from La Belle Heaulmière, la catin ,

—from the Sibyl of Panzoult, who spoke

lies,

—from Valeria Messalina, the notorious

stew,

—from Dame van Winkle, the whiniling

dastard,

—from Mother Prat, the fat woman

of Brainford,

—from all Troll Madams, Titifulls,

and Tattlers,

—from Glycera, the painted trullabub,

—from Diana Trapes, the walking mort,

—from Lady Fricarelle, the duchess

of malfeasance,

—from Una the Fairy Queen,

—from Smêraldine and her hairpins,

—from Catherine Alexeyevna Romanov I,

called ‘Figgy,’ the kozlonogaia ,

—from Giralda, the weathercock,

—from Berte au grant pié, la conasse ,

—from Old Mother Gothel and her

gamps and slatterns,

—from Elizabeth Bathory,

the trugging-house truepenny,

—from Hecate the Attic drench,

—from Mahboobeh the slave-girl,

—from Watere Wytches, crownede

wythe reytes,

—from Fanfan la Tulipe and her

bumrowls,

—from Empress Agrippina, the orgiac,

—from Notre-Dame des Parcs, the saint

of the smock-fair,

—from Wjera Sassulitch, the human

skate,

—from Henda, the wife of Abu Sofian,

—from La DuBarry and her ligbies

and lightskirts,

—from Lynda Raxa, the rixatrix,

—from La Sorellacia and her sausage

legs,

—from Dido and all her dutzbetterins

and biltregerins ,

—from Jane Medlar, the Dutch Widow,

—from Pohjola’s Daughters,

—from Madame Miracola, the zook of

hell,

—from Argante, the giantess of

prostitution,

—from Dame Wiggins of Lee, the female

mandrake,

—from Venus Pandemos, the queen of

tarts,

—from Naamah, Noah’s crosseyed wife,

—from Senta the spiggot-wench,

—from Paulina Bonaparte, la pettegola

maligna ,

—from Queen Aigle of Dreiviertelstein,

who could fly,

—from Harriet Wilson, the blackmailing

waistcoateer,

—from the Mother of St. Edward

of Corfe, the mullipod of villainy,

—from Queen Dollalolla, the slatterpiece,

—from Isobel Gowdie the Strix,

—from Akko and Alphito and all giglots

and jillivers,

—from My Own Middle-Wicketed

Mingwort of a Mother. .”

Stung with anger, Crucifer went suddenly into a full hue and cry, alive with self-inflicted hurt, and he rose up, grey, like Banquo’s ghost, heaping even greater contumely on each and every name he uttered with each dart of that sarcastic tongue that looked like a foul pistil issuing from a huge calyx.

“—from Libitana and her dead eyes, libera nos, Domine

—from Dipsias and her flying wheels,

—from Lady Alice Kyteler, virago and

voriander,

—from Aholibah the aplestous,

—from Miss Farabutto, the quarrelsome

fratcher,

—from Pythia the oracularia,

—from Ilmator, Creatrix of the World,

—from Cybele, the Phrygian goddess

of fustilugging,

—from Al Lat, the false idol,

—from She Who Must Be Obeyed,

—from Francesca Bassington, the

belittling bersatrix,

—from Mary of Brabant, pavior and

rumbold,

—from Albertine Simonet, la disparue ,

—from Waila, the Koranic nag,

—from the Wretched Magpies

of King Pieros,

—from Hélène de Surgères and her cool

hands,

—from Evelyn Bedstead, the wanton

bedswerver,

—from Athalie, the child butcher,

—from Columbine, the construpratress

of all those commode ladies who

lend out their beauty for hire,

—from Madame Guyon, the gotch-bellied

tart,

—from Drusilla, the chamberer,

—from Gagool, the evil crone of

Zimbabwe,

—from Anna Sage, the Lady in Red,

—from Ninon de Lenclos, notre dame

des amours ,

—from Elsche Nebelings, the

Mouse-Maker,

—from Dame La Voisin, philtre-seller

and whore,

—from Morgan le Fay, the fuxlady,

—from Penelope Devereux, richest

of bitches,

—from Goody Rickby and her noisy

forges,

—from Herodias, the jewified bestialator,

—from Mademoiselle de Maupin and her

pet muggins,

—from Philtra, the money stinkard,

—from La, queen of the Atlantean colony

of Opar,

—from Acrasia and her bowery wiles,

—from Ethel le Neve, snipe and mistress,

—from Jane Nightwork, the pox-ridden

fireship,

—from Centectl, maize mother

of Mexico,

—from Syntyche, the sharny-faced

scrubber,

—from fierce Camilla, o’er the plain,

—from Omm Jemil, the scoffing bardash,

—from the American South and its

stinking girleries,

—from Lady Clara Vere de Vere, the

proud mincing peat,

—from Cunizza da Romano, la zitella

inacidita ,

—from Hilde Bobbe, the old witch

of Haarlem,

—from Mothers Twaddle and Twitchett

and all weeping culls and drabs,

—from Gara Gertsoginia, the gueuse

of Gazag,

—from Gricka Vjestica, the Witch of

Gric,

—from Laverna, goddess of impostors,

—from Cicely Yeovil, the yawde,

the yode, the yade, the yaud. .”

The select and cynically imaginative incantation exceeded by far the black medieval hymn in conjuring, almost to fantasm, the meaning of the day of wrath and yet the furious and driving relentlessness of both proclaimed equally in the full moon of Dr. Crucifer’s blowing face, its morphs of color increasingly going to dark as he droned the long profanity out in dry arundinaceous whistles.

“—from Atropos and her glittering forfex, libera nos, Domine

—from Empusa the succubus,

—from Potiphar’s Wife, who hadn’t

even a name,