Frolic of His Own by William Gaddis
—Nothing to do with madness no, or even religion, the Church of England’s just a framework for the comedy of manners holding together the ruling class with a social caste system that . . .
—What any organized religion is isn’t it, old boy? But go to the Old Catholics for top drawer snobbism and your real streak of madness, the Anglicans are just the bastard child, perfidious Albion and all the rest of it, you want a taste of the social caste system in all its cruelty and duplicity? Such, such were the joys, try boarding at an English public school, you’ve got its pale offspring right here haven’t you? your bankrupt Protestant Episcopal refuge for old families and old money?
—That’s just what I’m saying! Good God look at Harry’s Pop and Glow case, nothing to do with madness or religion, the only true Christian faces you’ll see in this country are black and I don’t mean your mad to begin with theory either, how anyone can grow up black in America and stay halfway sane is beyond me.
—Not arguing that with you, am I? The demands for being a true Christian what can you expect, give up all and follow me? They had nothing to give up in the first place, for everybody else this love thy neighbor as thyself’s a plain oxymoron, turned the whole country into a cradle of hypocrisy.
—Fine yes, and when the bough breaks the whole thing comes crashing down baby and all, that’s what I . . .
—What you’re talking about’s organized religion, the established churches, Episcopals, Presbyterians, Congregational losing members right and left out there fighting for market share in what’s left of their elite spiritual supplyside economy but the blood of the martyrs, Tertullian wasn’t it? the seed of the church? And there’s your forty million to the rescue mad from the start and ready to spill it killing in defense of the right to life, no bleeding heart accommodation like your Roman Catholic confessional’s end run around the seventh commandment, say a few Paternosters and Hail Marys and go and sin no more till the next time, try that in Islam and they’ll stone her to death so there won’t be a next time, steal a loaf and they’ll lop off your hand. Remember T E Lawrence calling his Arabs a people of primary colours seeing everything in black and white? either truth or untruth? despising this doubt he called our modern crown of thorns, our hesitating retinue of finer shades, true believers go forth to war says the Koran. Turn your faces toward Mecca’s what your young blacks are doing, throwing off the Christian names they were baptised with and calling themselves Ali and Muhammad reminds me, I looked into your Cratylus.
—My what?
—Plato’s dialogue Cratylus, haven’t forgotten the last time we talked have you? when you said you’d no more change your name than the shape of your nose? Cratylus claiming your name signifies your essential nature, if it doesn’t it’s not really a name at all and even if it is it’s probably somebody else’s with a real claim to the qualities it expresses like our friend Basie there, he’s your perfect Hermogenes isn’t he? His cheery I’ll take the Fifth on that, seeing names as nothing more than conveniences? change them any way you like?
—Can you blame him? His own real name lost back in some African savannah when the slave traders came through and what about yours then, would you change it?
—Tell you the truth when I was a boy I, Pai is an old name in the south of India but in England, I told you the cruelty of schoolboys and I hated it, needn’t tell you what they called me and I swore I’d change it when I grew up, some of the finest old names going back to the battle of Hastings in sixth form there and even the future Duke of Wellington was called Washrag but all due respect old sport, I don’t really trust your Plato, said that before haven’t I? Look at his record on slavery, subjugation of women and the welcome mat out on Queer Street you get the feeling in this Cratylus that it’s all really just a game he’s playing, cardboard characters and their arguments so full of holes the whole thing ends in confusion and the flaws in his method show right through, your plea in your deposition back there as homage? as timely and timeless? In the end he’s pretty much a dictator isn’t he, a censor, can’t trust him any more than your Major who’s a sort of cardboard Cratylus himself isn’t he? No more change his name than he would Quantness and the more chaotic things get the more he clings to them till they destroy him.
—That’s the whole point isn’t it? And there’s Bagby, is he a cardboard Hermogenes? He’s all expediency, change his name in a minute like your client Livingston changing his name to Siegal it was probably Siegal in the first place, and then Kiester? Constantine Kiester it’s just a convenience, for Cratylus Socrates in the dialogue is really Socrates and the name Cratylus is the essence of Cratylus himself like the character Kane in the play, he’s the Cratylus in the play and whatever gave you the idea he’s some broken down peddler who . . .
—He’s a free spirit Oscar, probably changed it from Kaminsky the point is he’s a free spirit. Only thing he owns is a mule and his pots and pans till the day he sells them, up against the Major there with his slaves and real estate and illusions of permanence he . . .
—He did not change his name from Kaminsky! He’s the . . .
—He’s a free spirit! That’s our friend Basie isn’t it? freed himself of these illusions of absolutes? takes the name Basie because he likes the swing of it even if it was someone else’s with more claim as its essence, the courage to live in a contingent universe, to accept a relative world, he’s thrown out those Christian fictions that got his forebears through slavery, helped retain their humanity and turn it into the strength to survive the ones who’d used it to subjugate them, to accept misery in this world for peace and equality in some imaginary next one like the job you did on the old woman in your play, you know all this better than anyone, sitting there with poor John Israel at her knee, given into my keeping and all the rest of it you really did quite a job on her.
—What do you mean quite a job, she’s a devout old Christian woman who’s been embittered by . . .
—That’s funny now, isn’t it. You know I read her as whining grasping old hypocrite?
—That’s not what I . . .
—A mean, lying old hypocrite, may have builded better than you knew, old man.
—No that’s not what I, listen . . .
—Listen!
—Oscar! The glass doors crashed open —where are you!
—We, here, what is it? hurrying toward her, both of them, down the veranda —what . . .
—Hurry!
—But what’s happened!
—Just hurry will you! back inside now, —I’ve got to leave as soon as we, we have to leave.
—But Christina wait, what . . .
—Where’s my purse, he’s had an accident why didn’t they tell me, Lily? My coat, have you seen it? and my purse, whenever I’ve called they’ve just said he’s in court, he’s in court, that idiot secretary of his why didn’t you tell me!
—But who Christina, what . . .
—My God Oscar will you stop asking stupid questions and, Lily, help Lily find my purse will you? instead of standing there like a, will you get rid of that cigar! A sweater, that tan cashmere, it’s down here somewhere sitting here all this time talking about God knows what till Trish finally just happens to mention he’s honestly Trish, honestly!
—But Teen, we thought you knew Teen, we thought you knew.
—Didn’t want to pry you know, talked about it driving out here Trishy thought we could cheer you up, take your mind off it, really marveled at how you were handling it, stiff upper lip and all the rest between you and Harry after all, didn’t want to seem to pry into your . . .
—But my God he’s, where is he? Is he, how badly was he . . .
—He’s all right Teen, I mean I didn’t mean he was all smashed up in that marvelous car of yours, that lovely deep green and . . .
—Not a scratch, don’t worry it’s all . . .
—I’m not worried about a scratch on the car my God, if you . . .
—No, no Harry, she means Harry he wasn’t hurt, a littl
—Well my God it’s their fault isn’t it! Working twenty hours a day at this asinine case they’ve had him on since God knows when he’s hardly eaten or slept, what do they . . .
—No no, they’re behind him, trying to keep it from going to trial Bill Peyton’s talking to the judge himself, an old classmate at Yale Law you don’t have to worry, if it goes to trial we’ve got the expert witnesses already looking into this woman’s background up to her ears in debt, bad credit rating and her boyfriend’s just out of some rehab so don’t . . .
—Not that jacket Lily I said my beige coat, have you found my purse?
—Teen I feel so badly, we didn’t mean to upset you we thought you knew and Harry’s all right, I mean now it’s just going to be another of these dreary runarounds with courts and lawyers like Mummy’s will and this revolting boy with his foetal personhood there’s nothing you can do, you can stay out here and rest and Jerry can look after the . . .
—I’ve got to see him! My God Trish can’t you, what do you want me to do take a train? I’ll drive in with you right now can’t I? Oscar have you found my, what are you looking over there for.
—That copy of my play, and my coat it must be in the . . .
—What in, your play what in God’s name are you talking about!
—I’ll come in with you, a big roomy car we can all . . .
—What are you talking about!
—Oscar watch where you step, I think the dog just got sick there.
—What? oh, no if I’m right there in town Christina it will be much easier to arrange things on short notice with this director for lunch or something and the hearing on this appeal, if I’m right there in court they might want me to testify tomorrow or . . .
—Don’t bother with it old sport no, just complicate things it’s all a pretty cut and dried procedure, a lot of legal technicalities nothing you can. . . .
—Stop it! Oscar stop it I can’t even, you’re staying right here just my raincoat Lily take the jacket, keep it it suits you, can you help her with that fur coat? And the, there it is staring you right in the face my purse Oscar, just hand it to me please hurry Trish, I’ll carry your coat you won’t need it on in the car, Jerry?
—Coming yes, don’t want to take along any of the food? Watch that plate on the floor there.
—I think that’s where he ate that oyster stuff, do you . . .
—Are you coming! as the doors down the hall clattered open.
—But . . .
—Sorry to run like this, here . . . a hand burrowed behind the gold monogram —take these? Two cigars thrust forth with a sharp clap to the shoulder leaving him reeling as the car doors slammed outside, —coming! and moments later that veranda, the still house and the torn limbs fell away behind as the car seethed almost silently up the cratered driveway —sorry, that your foot there Trishy?
—This awful coat I can’t see where I’m, here, pull it over your knees Teen sort of a laprobe, you wouldn’t notice the spots on it would you after that awful boy but you should see the chinchilla. Bunker gave it to me, I think he got it on some kind of a bet he’s having the most awful time, those odious neighbors of his in the country claim his butler raped one of their Filipino maids of course they’re here illegally so she can’t report it but they want him fired and Bunker won’t budge, Victor’s the best cook he’s ever had and he won’t lose him over some silly indiscretion and I mean he can’t sit out there playing backgammon all alone can he? He had the whole place built an exact copy of the big old family mansion where he was born down in Georgia so they could put all the furniture right where it belonged when he moved in but he gets lonely there sometimes and . . .
—Have you talked to him Trish?
—He’s in London no, he left yesterday on the . . .
—I didn’t mean . . .
—He’ll be back in a day or two, he just went over to have some suits fitted, why.
—I meant Harry.
—Who? Oh Harry, no just what Jerry’s told me don’t worry about him Teen, I mean Jerry’s right there with an eye on things aren’t you Jerry, I just hated to leave Oscar like that I didn’t even get to say goodbye he looked so, but he’s always looked rather lost hasn’t he with that blonde there, you don’t think they’re up to anything do you?
—I’m sure they are, now . . .
—Well my God I hope so, don’t you? I mean he really needs a little of that sort of thing, she reminded me terribly of that girl at school with that marvelous bosom I think she was Polish until her guardian took her out after that messy business with our Mister Jheejheeboy in botany, will you ever forget him Teen? He had fingers like velvet what was her name, that beautiful redhead from Grosse Pointe I went out to her funeral, Liz something she married him didn’t she, Liz ow! That’s my foot Jerry what are you doing down there.
—Just getting the phone, move over a little? as the car swayed from the road to the open highway ahead —there, that better?
—It was that Grimes girl Trish, they were best friends and he married that Grimes girl because he thought she had more money and her father had to pay him off to get it annulled.
—Edie yes, Edie Grimes, when they were caught smoking together in the laundry room, that pale white skin and red hair and the most marvelous cheekbones God how I envied her, I mean if I’m going in for these tucks I might as well have the whole thing done again, of course you come out looking like a mummy with two black eyes and have to hide out for a week someplace nobody goes anymore like Jackson Hole but simply everyone’s using him, Bunker says that’s why you see him at all these big benefits of course he’s always somebody’s guest, he’s a frightful freeloader and when he started showing up at my Winter Parties for Bunker’s hospital in his little tuxedo with his pants drooping over his shoes simply salivating over his little black book Bunker says he comes to all of them drumming up business I mean he adores titles and money, not one without the other not one of your ordinary restaurant Greeks because Bunker can’t stand him and I mean Bunker’s the only man you’ve ever known who asked for a copy of Debrett’s for Christmas but you’ve got to wait ages for an appointment unless you’re an old customer like Lettie Blanfors who used him when he was still a proctologist and they called him the shuttle surgeon racking up those charter members for his rosebud club till a sheikh and some African president sued him from their deathbeds for malpractice and that nasty business after the Pope’s funeral in all the papers calling him some kind of double agent back when I first met him at one of those awful galas Edie was always giving, she was at the funeral too looking simply gorgeous but she was with that brutish man Liz was married to when she died, he did it of course, killed her I mean, you knew that didn’t you.
—That was all simply talk Trish, he . . .
—They found him right there in the house that one morning with her body on the kitchen floor didn’t they? It was all over the papers I can still see the headline HEIRESS SLAIN IN SWANK SUBURB, he tried to make it look like a burglar broke in while he was away and killed her with a . . .
—That was nonsense Trish, a lot of people thought that but it was nonsense, the kind they make up to sell papers, she simply had a heart attack, that’s what came out later but you don’t sell papers with a story about high blood pressure and a heart attack when the blunt instrument that hit her was really the corner of the table she hit her head on when she fell, a
—Well if you could have seen him out there at her funeral Teen, hard as nails I mean he looked like death was something he’d seen every day but she always went for the wrong men didn’t she, like her Buddhist brother who was killed in a plane crash and her father who was an absolute monster hardly gave her the time of day because she told me once when she tried to stand up to him how he simply froze up and made a big show of pouring out his affection on these awful little Jack Daniel’s terriers . . .
—My God can’t we go a little faster? Dawdling along like this will you tell the driver to . . .