Diary of a Madman and Other Stories (3 page)

SPENT the whole morning reading the newspapers. Strange things are happening in Spain. In fact I couldn't quite make out what was happening. They say that the throne has been abolished, and that the Estates are in a difficulty as to the election of a successor, and that is why there is general trouble. This strikes me as exceedingly strange. How can the throne be abolished? They say that a Donna of some kind is to ascend the throne. It is impossible that a Donna should ascend the throne, absolutely impossible. The throne must have a King to occupy it. “But,” they say, “there is no King.” It cannot be that there is no King. A kingdom cannot be without a King. The King exists, only he must be in concealment. He may be there, in Spain, but either family considerations, or the suspicions of a neighbouring power, such as France or some other country, may be compelling him to hide; or there may be other reasons.

I HAD quite decided to go to the Department, but various reasons and meditations prevented me from doing so. I can't get the affairs of Spain out of my head. How is it possible that a Donna should become Queen? It won't be tolerated. To begin with, England won't tolerate it. Besides, the political affairs of the whole of Europe, the Emperor of Austria, our Tsar . . . I confess that all these events have so overwhelmed and shaken me that the whole day I was unable to do any work. Mavra made remarks on my absent-mindedness at table. Indeed, it would seem that I threw two plates on the floor, whereupon they got smashed. After dinner I went to look at the mountains: but did not find them helpful. For the most part lay on my bed, and reflected on the affairs of Spain.

TO-DAY our executive clerk came to summon me to the Department. It was three weeks, he said, since I had been there last.

But men are unfair, with this way of reckoning in weeks. The Jews invented it because it's their Rabbi's washing time. However I went to the Department, just for the fun of it. The head of the section was expecting that I should salute him and apologize before him; but I only looked at him in a detached way, not too angrily and not too graciously, and sat down in my place, pretending not to notice anything. As I looked at all that office rabble I thought to myself: What if you knew who is sitting in the midst of you! . . . Great God! wouldn't there be a hullabaloo! The head of the section himself would at once start doubling himself in two before me, the way he bows to the Director. Some papers were placed before me to make a précis of them. But I did not move a finger. A few minutes later there was a general commotion: the Director was coming. Many of the officials ran forward to attract his attention, but I did not budge. As he passed our section they all buttoned up their coats, but not I. A Director, indeed! That I should get up before him—never! And is he really a Director? He's a cork, and not a Director. A cork, an ordinary cork, the kind you cork bottles with. What amused me most was when someone put a paper before me to countersign. They expected, no doubt, that I would put at the very bottom of the sheet, So-and-So, Clerk in Charge of the Table. Catch me! In the very central space, where the Director of the Department signs his name, I wrote “Ferdinand VIII”! You should have seen the religious silence that ensued! But I only waved my hand, and said: “I don't insist on any signs of allegiance”; then I walked out. I went straight to the Director's apartment. He was not at home. The footman did not want to let me in, but I said words to such effect that he let his hands drop. I found my way straight to her dressing-room. She was sitting before the looking-glass. When I came in she jumped up and stepped back. I did not, however, tell her that I was the King of Spain. I only said that there was happiness in store for her, such as she could have no idea of, and that in spite of the intrigues of enemies we should be united. That was all I wished to say, and I walked out. Oh, what a crafty creature woman is! Only now have I realized what woman is. Until now no one knew whom she was in love with. I have been the first to discover it. Woman is in love with the Devil. Yes, quite seriously. Physiologists write all sorts of nonsense saying that she is this or that,—but she loves nothing but the Devil. There she is, in a box of the first tier, fixing her opera-glass. You imagine she is looking at that fat man with decorations? Not at all; she is looking at the Devil, who is standing behind his back. Now he has hidden himself in the fat man's coat. Now he is making signs to her. And she will marry him, sure enough. And all those fathers, holders of office, all that set of theirs who fawn on everyone and push their way to court, and call themselves patriots and what not,—it's bonuses, bonuses, all these patriots want! They'd sell their father and mother and God for money,—ambitious snobs, Judases! All this is caused by ambition, and ambition is caused by a little vessel situated under the tongue, and in the vessel there is a small worm no bigger than a pin's head, and all this is made by a barber who lives in Gorokhovaya Street. I forget his name, but I know for a fact that in concert with a certain midwife he is trying to spread Mahomedanism all over the world, and I am told that in France the majority of the people have already adopted the religion of Mahomet.

I WALKED incognito in the Nevsky. The Emperor drove past. All the town took off their hats, and I did the same, without, however, letting any sign escape me that I was the King of Spain. I thought it improper to disclose my identity in this way before the crowd, because I ought to begin by being presented at Court. The only thing that has prevented my doing so is that I have not got a Spanish national dress. Some kind of mantle is indispensable. I was going to order one from a tailor, but they are perfect asses; besides, they pay no attention to their work, they have started profiteering, and most of them are now engaged in paving the streets. So I decided to make a mantle out of my new uniform, which I have only worn twice. But in order that those rascals should not ruin it I decided to do the work myself, locking the door so that no one might see me at it. I cut it all to pieces with scissors, because the cut has to be quite different.

THE mantle is ready. Mavra shrieked when I put it on. Nevertheless, I can't yet be presented at Court: the deputation from Spain has not arrived yet. It would not be proper to go without the delegates: my dignity would be cheapened. I am expecting them any minute.

The 1st

I AM exceedingly surprised at the tardiness of the delegates. What can have detained them? Can it be France? Probably, she is the most unfriendly power. I went to inquire at the post office whether the Spanish delegates had arrived; but the postmaster was extraordinarily stupid and knew nothing. “No,” he said, “we have had no Spanish delegates, but if you wish to post a letter, we will take it at the existing rates.” Damn it! what's in a letter? Letters are rot. Only druggists write letters, and then only after dipping their tongues in vinegar, or else their faces would be all covered with warts.

SO here I am in Spain, and it happened so quickly that I have scarcely had the time to recover. This morning the Spanish delegates presented themselves, and we started together in a carriage. The extraordinary rapidity of our journey struck me as strange. We drove so fast that within half an hour we had reached the Spanish frontier. But of course now there are iron railways all over Europe, and steamers go very rapidly. A singular country this Spain! In the first room we entered there were a number of people with shaved heads. However, I realized at once that they were either grandees or soldiers, because they shave their heads. The behaviour of the Lord Chancellor, who led me by the arm, struck me as exceedingly strange. He pushed me into a little room and said: “Sit there, and if you go on calling yourself King Ferdinand, I'll knock that nonsense out of you.” But I knew that this was only an ordeal, so I answered in the negative, whereupon the Chancellor struck me twice on the back with a stick, and it hurt so that I almost cried out, but I restrained myself, recollecting that it was a custom of chivalry, on the admission to any high dignity, for Spain still practises customs of chivalry. When I was alone I decided to occupy myself with public affairs. I discovered that China and Spain were one and the same country, and if they are still considered to be different countries this is only due to sheer ignorance. I recommend anyone to try to write
Spain
on a bit of paper, and he will find that he has written
China.
But I was particularly worried by an event that was due to happen to-morrow. To-morrow at seven o'clock a strange phenomenon will occur: the Earth will fall on the Moon. The celebrated English scientist, Wellington, affirms this in his writings too. To tell the truth, I felt some anxiety when I visualized the extraordinary brittleness and tenderness of the Moon. The Moon, you will have heard, is made in Hamburg, and very badly made too. I am surprised that England hasn't seen to that. It was made by a lame cooper, and one sees at once that the fool had not the slightest notion of the way moons are made. He put in tarred cord and one part of olive oil; and that has produced such a fearful stench all over the Earth that one has to hold one's nose. And that, too, is the reason why the Moon is such a tender sphere that human beings can't live there, so it is only inhabited by noses. And that is the reason why we can't see our own noses, because they are all in the Moon. And when I reflected that the Earth is a heavy substance and that its pressure would grind our noses to powder, I was overcome with such anxiety that I put on my shoes and stockings and hastened to the Council Room to give orders to the police to prevent the Earth from falling on the Moon. The shaven grandees, whom I found in great numbers in the Council Room, were very intelligent people, and when I said: “Gentlemen, we must save the Moon, because the Earth is trying to fall on it!” they all rushed to carry out my royal desire, and many of them began climbing the walls to try to reach the Moon; but at that moment the High Chancellor entered. At the sight of him the grandees dispersed. I as King remained alone. But to my astonishment the Chancellor struck me with his stick, and drove me back to my room. Such is the power of ancient customs in Spain!

I AM still unable to understand this country of Spain. The national customs and the court etiquette are quite unusual. I don't understand them at all, at all. To-day they shaved my head, although I cried at the top of my voice that I had no intention of becoming a monk. But what became of me when they began dripping cold water on the crown of my head—I simply can't endure the thought of it. I have never endured such hell. I was almost frantic with rage so that they had difficulty in holding me. I can't see the meaning of this singular usage. It is stupid, meaningless! The folly of the kings who have not abolished it to this day is inconceivable. Considering all the circumstances, I am beginning to realize that I have fallen into the hands of the Inquisition, and that the man I first took to be the High Chancellor is in fact the Grand Inquisitor. Only I don't see how a king can be subject to the Inquisition. Of course, France may have had a hand in it, and especially Polignac. Oh that rascal Polignac! He has sworn to harm me to my death. And he persecutes, and persecutes me. But I know, my friend, that you are no more than England's catspaw. The English are great politicians. They are everywhere with their tricks. And all the world knows that when England takes a pinch it is France who sneezes.

 

The 25th

TO-DAY the Grand Inquisitor came into my room again, but as soon as I heard his steps in the distance I hid under a chair. Seeing I wasn't there he began calling me. At first he shouted: “Poprishchin.” I didn't breathe a word. He went on: “Axenti Ivanov! Titular Councillor! Gentleman!” I remained silent. “Ferdinand VIII, King of Spain!” I was on the point of poking out my head, but then I thought: “No, my good fellow, I'm not going to be taken in this way. I know your tricks: You will be dripping cold water on my head again.” But he had caught sight of me, and drove me from under the chair with a stick. It does hurt terribly, that damned stick does. However, my new discovery made up for everything: I have found out that every cock has got a Spain, and that it is situated under his feathers not far from his tail. The Grand Inquisitor went away, however, very angry, and threatening to have me punished. But I pay no attention to his impotent malice, knowing that he is no more than a machine, a tool in the hands of England.