The Green Knight by Iris Murdoch
My dear son,
Please excuse a brief letter in reply to yours. I understand your feelings concerning reference to God as ‘she’, but, as you yourself say, these are superficial human matters, irrelevant to the Mystery of the Divine. About the ordination of women, you know the view of our Church, which rests upon both theology and history. As for ‘God’s punishment’ and wanting to be hurled to the ground like St Paul, these are but worldly obsessions in disguise. You are in danger of exalting a sentimental Christ. You are secretly attached to magic, which is the enemy of religion. Often we enliven our sins by ‘punishing’ them. When you think of Purgatory as a consolation you are seeing beyond it yourself purified! God’s justice is outside our understanding and concerns Him alone. The ‘darkness’ you referred to earlier is, I fear, but the obscurity of the restless self. I begin to think that perhaps the way of abnegation is not your way after all. You are depending too much upon me. It may even be that you will ‘better your condition’ by seeking some form of secular, even medical, advice. Reflect upon this. It is of course a matter to be considered at some length. I am sorry not to be able to write more, I shall shortly be in retreat.
Yours lovingly in Christo,
Fr Damien
P.S. Pray always. God purifies the desire that seeks Him.
Bellamy was deeply disturbed by this letter. He began at once to write his reply.
Dear Father Damien,
Thank you for your letter. I do not think that I require medical attention! We have spoken earlier of ‘depression’, which may be what is in your mind, but this isn’t it. I earnestly hope that you will realise how much I need you, it is no accident that I encountered you, you are my lifeline. I am not thinking of suicide. I just know that I need a purification by suffering, a sort of way of brokenness, a way of truth, which is what I have been seeking in my desire to enter, on whatever terms, the cloister. Yes, I have wanted a sign and I still feel I may get one. But I do crave for suffering, perhaps physical suffering, something so extreme that my false fantasising mind may be shattered, and into that great dark void God may enter. I wish I could be in Hell and see Christ and see Him pass me by. I thirst, I thirst like Our Lord upon the cross, like the hart thirsts for the water brook and the soul for God. Only I want not consolation but to be destroyed. Please excuse this outpouring which perhaps makes no sense but is the utter darkness of my spirit pouring from me like black blood. Please do not tell me these are empty exaltations. Please write to me, please let me come and see you. The mouse which ate the sacred wafer of the Host was damned. I am that mouse. Please do not think me ridiculous. Forgive me.
Yours most affectionately,
Bellamy
‘Well, he’s late too!’ said Louise to Clement.
‘No, he isn’t, he’s sitting in The Raven.’ (The Raven was a nearby pub.)
‘Oh. Why?’
‘He’s shy. He doesn’t want to face you all until Lucas is here to introduce him.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Sefton, ‘is it quite clear that he did not attack Lucas?’
‘Yes,’ said Clement.
‘But Lucas said he did.’
‘Lucas’s lawyer said so, not Lucas.’
‘But Lucas wasn’t sure?’ said Sefton. ‘If he thought he didn’t he should have told the lawyer to shut up.’
‘No one was to blame, it was all a mistake.’
‘I still don’t see why Lucas wants us to meet him,’ said Louise. ‘Perhaps it’s natural, like a way of saying sorry.’
‘Giving the man a treat,’ suggested Sefton.
‘Still, it’s very rum. Isn’t it rum? And fancy him sitting in the pub! It’s awfully foggy outside. How will he know when to come?’
‘I’ll fetch him!’ said Clement.
‘Suppose he really did attack Lucas, supposing he’s dangerous?’
‘Lucas is satisfied he didn’t, and isn’t!’ said Clement exasperated. It was a quarter past six and there was no sign of his brother.
The gathering in the Aviary consisted of Clement, Louise, Harvey, Bellamy, and the girls. Anax had been banished to the Adwardens’ house to be looked after by Mrs Drake who loved dogs, the Adwardens being still absent. There had been some discussion at Clifton beforehand concerning what sort of event the ‘event’ was to be: was it a sort of public explanation, or vindication, or even confession, offered to the family? Who would speak, who would explain? Or should it be thought of as a celebration, and if so, what of? The fact that Lucas had not killed a man, or that the man had recovered? Should light refreshments be served, or drinks, or would such entertainment be out of place? As a precaution Moy and Sefton had set out plates of biscuits and two thermoses of coffee and two bottles of white wine and a tray of cups and glasses in the kitchen, ready to be brought forward should the atmosphere prove congenial. The audience were disposed as follows: Harvey seating himself between Aleph and Moy on the sofa, Sefton on the floor leaning against the bookshelves, Bellamy on an upright chair by the window, with another chair beside him for Clement, Louise on the piano stool, Clement now standing at the open door. The sofa and chairs thus occupied (including one for Clement) had been placed in a semi-circle facing the piano, while beside the piano and facing the audience were two empty ‘grand’ chairs intended for Lucas and his – how to put it – protégé, erstwhile victim, new-found friend.
‘Be nice to him,’ said Clement looking at his watch again, ‘he’s a very decent chap really, he won’t stay long.’
‘Of course we’ll be nice to him! I haven’t put the centre light on, I hope that’s all right. Do you think we should ring Lucas, can he have forgotten?’
‘I’ve tried, he hardly ever answers the phone.’
The attentive audience listened respectfully to these exchanges. There was a tension, even a nervous excitement, but no glances were exchanged. Bellamy, sitting on the edge of his chair, leaning forward, his lips apart, had taken off his glasses and was fiddling with them. Without moving his large head he kept glancing round the room, as if checking on some place he had once known. He thought he could smell Anax. He was cheered by the presence of Clement and the expectation of Lucas, and the bright warm touch of curiosity which he felt about ‘the man’. He was, for the rest, overcome by shyness and unable to speak to the young people. I am becoming cut off, he thought, that’s as it should be. Everyone greeted him with exceptional cordiality, and he bowed silently in return. Harvey was, so far as he could manage it, motionless, his good leg bent, his bad leg stretched out. He had arrived by taxi and mounted the stairs with the help of his stick, and been congratulated on having relinquished his crutches. In fact the doctor who had sanctioned the stick had done so with dubiety and spoken of a possible operation. Harvey told everyone he was getting steadily better. As he stared down, keeping his eyes fixed on Louise’s feet (she had small pretty feet and a large supply of smart old-fashioned shoes) he felt on one side of him the sturdy warmth of Moy’s plump body, which she kept modestly but vainly trying to edge away, and on the other side the silky slithery presence of Aleph’s thigh and of her blouse as it touched the sleeve of his jacket. He felt, in the tense atmosphere of the room, a special sense of unity with Aleph, of their understanding each other perfectly. At the same time he felt an excited fear at the thought of seeing Lucas.
The doorbell rang, everyone jumped, shifted, Clement ran down the stairs, Louise went onto the landing. There was a sound of voices below. Louise called to Clement, ‘Is it Lucas?’
‘No.’
Clement returned, followed by Joan and Tessa. There was a faint murmur of surprise, even disapproval, at the arrival of uninvited outsiders. How did they know? Harvey, receiving a telephone call from his mother, had mentioned the gathering as a reason why he could not see her. In fact, Peter Mir had actually mentioned Joan, ‘The fashionable lady, French perhaps’, as one of those whom he wished to meet, but Clement had not passed that invitation on.
Bellamy rose and, proffering his chair, s
Louise said, ‘I’m afraid Lucas hasn’t come yet.’
‘We didn’t come to see him,’ said Joan. ‘We know all about him, we want to see – you know – the person.’
‘He’s in The Raven,’ said Sefton.
‘What?’
The telephone extension in the Aviary rang, Louise seized it. ‘Oh Lucas, we’re waiting – But Clement said – Oh dear, what a pity – Yes, I quite understand – Please don’t worry – Goodbye then.’
She turned to Clement. ‘He’s very sorry he can’t come, he has to see someone, it’s urgent, about something in America. He says you can manage much better without him.’
‘What a shame!’ said Tessa. ‘We all love a glimpse of Lucas, it’s a religious experience.’
‘Hadn’t you better fetch him from The Raven?’ said Louise.
Clement said Oh hell, oh damn, to himself, and ran away down the stairs. He had considered the possibility of Lucas’s defection, but had made no emergency plan, and had no idea what he was to say or do. Lucas had uttered various suggestions, and prohibitions, but Clement had paid little attention, sure that in the end Lucas would be there to do the talking. He felt very frightened. The distance to the pub was not great, but as he emerged from the house he was startled to see the tall burly figure of Mir standing on the far side of the road. It had started very slightly to rain and Mir was putting up his umbrella. Closing it he crossed the road.
‘Oh Clement, hello, I’ve been waiting for Lucas, but I expect he came earlier.’
‘He can’t come,‘ said Clement, ‘I’m in charge. Come on, you’ll get wet.’
‘Oh, I’m very sorry to hear this. The Raven was rather nice but I got impatient. I hope you will forgive me?’
As this sounded like a question, Clement said, ‘Yes, yes, of course – ’
‘But I hope – they are here?’
‘Yes, they are here.’ Checking Mir on the doorstep and putting his hand on his expensive overcoat, Clement said, ‘Look, since Lucas isn’t here I suggest we make this business pretty short, yes? I’ll just introduce you to the company, and they can say how pleased they are that you – that you’re still there and – and so on – and then suppose you and I go and have a quiet drink at the pub – I’d like that, I’d like to – to ask you about your life, I’d like to know about your life – ’
Clement, who had closed the door when he came out, was about to ring the bell when Mir said, ‘Wait a minute. Why do you want to know about my life?’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean anything intrusive. I just – well, you’re interesting, and I – I sort of like you, well, not sort of, I just like you.’
‘You have reason to. I am extremely sorry that your brother is not to be here.’
‘I’d rather we got this whole business over. Or do you want to postpone it?’
‘Certainly not, I want to see these ladies now. But I shall want to see them again in the presence of your brother.’
Over my dead body! thought Clement. He rang the bell.
Louise opened the door. Clement entered quickly, Mir rather more slowly mounting the two steps which led up to the door.
‘This is Mr Mir.’
‘Peter Mir,’ said Mir, bowing slightly.
‘Peter Mir.’
‘How do you do, Mr Mir?’ said Louise. ‘May I take your coat and your umbrella? We are so glad to see you.’
Mir surrendered his coat and umbrella murmuring, ‘Thank you, how kind of you to – ’ He took a comb out of his pocket and quickly combed down his curly hair.
Louise said, ‘Clement has not introduced me. I am Mrs Anderson. Will you come up? Will you – would you like some coffee?’
‘Please come up,’ said Clement, taking hold of Mir’s arm and guiding him to the staircase. ‘Never mind about the coffee, Louise, for heaven’s sake, Mr Mir won’t be staying long.’
Mir allowed himself to be guided by Clement, who opened the door of the Aviary and pulled Mir into the room after him, Louise following.
The audience, who had been silent since the bell rang, at once rose to their feet. Clement, thinking about this weird episode later, was struck by the instinctive way in which they all so promptly greeted Mir’s arrival.
Mir in fact, as Clement was able to notice in what followed, was an impressive sight. His broad-shouldered erect figure paused, towered in the doorway. Clement thought, he is over six feet, he seems to have grown since I last saw him! Mir frowned, pouted, narrowed his prominent dark grey eyes, and surveyed the room, turning his head with slow deliberation. His silky curly brown hair shone in the lamplight. Clement, again taking Mir’s arm, as if he were an invalid, pointed, then guided him to one of the grand chairs. He sat down. The audience sat down. Clement quickly picked up the other chair and moved it to the side, leaving Mir alone in the centre. Still standing he spoke, addressing his remarks toward Louise.
‘Well, my friends, this is Mr Peter Mir, who is as you see alive and well, much to the relief of Lucas, and of all of us I feel sure, and he has kindly expressed the wish to come here, and Louise has kindly invited us all, to say a friendly hello and make acquaintance, and we, do we not, welcome him and are happy to celebrate with him his wonderful return to health.’ Clement, usually a fluent speaker in any situation, could hear his voice assuming a pompous and affected tone, not unlike that which many actors use (wrongly in Clement’s view) when playing Polonius.
There was a pause; then someone, Clement was not sure at the time (in fact it was Tessa), out of nervousness and to end the silence or else (Clement later supposed) in mockery of his speech, began to clap. Everyone clapped. Mir bowed his head slightly, still frowning.
Louise hastily, so as to avoid another silence, said, ‘I think we might have some coffee, perhaps one of the girls – ’
Mir, raising his hand, said, ‘Not yet, if you don’t mind.’ This remark had a chilling effect.
Clement said to Mir, ‘Perhaps we should let you know who we are – I suggest each one of us introduces himself, or herself. Is that a good idea? Suppose we start on the left on the floor. Suppose you start, Bellamy.’
Bellamy, surprisingly, said nothing. He just shook his head. Clement said quickly, ‘Tessa?’
Tessa, fingering her tie and using her slow deep voice, said, ‘My name is Tessa Millen. I am unmarried, I am a social worker and a feminist. Let me say how interested I am to meet Mr Mir, and I congratulate him on being alive.’
‘I’m sure we all do that,’ said Clement.
‘I should add,’ Tessa continued, ‘that I am not a member of the family. Neither is this gentleman at my feet who refuses to speak.’
‘Joan?’ said Clement.
‘What family are we talking about?’ said Joan. ‘I’m not a member of the family either, though my son Harvey over there thinks he is. I am no one in particular, just Harvey’s mother.’
Sefton proceeded to say that she was a Miss Anderson and a student of history. Moy had some difficulty in describing herself beyond saying that she was a Miss Moira Anderson and a – well, sort of a – painter. Harvey said he was the aforementioned Harvey and a student of modern languages. Aleph, who was the first person to smile at Mir, said she was the eldest Miss Anderson and a
Clement said in a hearty voice, ‘Well done!’
After another, briefer, silence, Joan said, ‘Is this supposed to be a party? No one has told me, no one tells me anything, least of all Harvey. I suggest that rather than sitting mum like a prayer meeting we should all get up and mingle, and what about drinks? I agree with Mr Mir in not requiring coffee. Louise, can’t you rouse out some sherry or something?’
This speech seemed to amuse Mir, who smiled. The children giggled. Louise said, a little sternly, ‘Later, Joan, later, we can have coffee and drinks, but we are doing all the talking, and I’m sure Mr Mir hasn’t come here just to listen to our little speeches. Perhaps he would like to talk to us, to tell us something of his – his work, his ideas – ’