William Gaddis - The Recognitions

— But I… yes, good God, there's no passion left in me now.

— To renounce the things of this world?

— There's nothing here I want. . Nothing.

— And when the crown is offered you. . Gwyon came on, straining with intensity.

— Yes, the third temptation, "All these things will I give thee. ." No, I'm through with that. He twisted in Gwyon's grip. — He offered me all that, and he's behind me. He gave me all that, and he's behind me. Just being here I've renounced him, just coming here, I've renounced all he gave me. He paused, and when Gwyon did not speak but continued to grip his wrist and fix all his attention, as he had before, with his eye, went on, — Do you think he didn't take me up on a high mountain, and show me all the kingdoms of the world? and the glory of them? and offer them to me? and give them to me? And here. . now… if this is not Renunciation. .

— Could you face fifty days of fasting? Gwyon demanded suddenly.

— Why. . why yes, if…

— Could you stand two days exposed to extreme heat?

— But…

— And twenty days in the snow?

— But I…

— There are twelve trials of fortitude, Gwyon went on in a voice of intense confidence, — you must face heat and cold, hunger, thirst, and the terrors of drowning, before you take the sacramentum and be sealed on the forehead as his priest.

— But all this. .

— You cannot be his priest without passing through all the disciplines, Gwyon said, relaxing his grip a little, speaking with an admonishing tone. — You must give proof of self-control and chastity, as Nonnus says in his In Sancta Lumina. To be rendered strong and passionless, in order to convert the army first, Gwyon went on, looking toward the window, his voice sinking to a reflective note.

— But Father. . Father. .

— Yes, Gwyon said closing his grip again, bringing his eyes back to the eyes which stared at him. — I have passed through all the grades, of course, to be the Pater Patrum. And then, he went on intent again, — after your death. .

— My death?. .

— After the cruciati you must die, of course, after the torments, when you have passed through all the disciplines, when you have attained Cryphius, and Miles, and Leo, and Perses, and Helío-dromus. .

— Die?…

— How else may the soul be relieved of the dread necessity of its lower nature? Gwyon demanded bending toward him.

— Father!. .

— Yes, at my hands, Gwyon said looking at him steadily, — you must die at the hands of the Pater Patratus, like all initiates.

Gwyon's face was suffused with a flush which deepened as they sat locked rigidly hand and wrist together; and as it did the face that Gwyon looked into drained of all color until the skin was near translucent, so that it might have been not two processes but one continuous seepage of life. — No one can teach Resurrection without first suffering death himself. No one can be reborn without dying. No one can be Mithras' priest without being reborn… to teach them to observe Sunday, and keep sacred the twenty-fifth of December as the birthday of the sun. Natalis invicti, the Unconquered Sun, Gwyon finished, turning his face to the window.

— But I… you… to worship the sun?

Gwyon let go his wrist abruptly, and he drew it back.

— Nonsense, said Gwyon, brisk now. — We let them think so, he confided, — those outside the mysteries. But our own votaries know Mithras as the deity superior to it, in fact the power behind the sun. Here, his name you see. . Gwyon revealed the marginal notes on the newspaper clipping. — Abraxas and Mithras have the same numerical value, the cycle of the year as the sun's orbit describes it. Abraxas, you know, the resident of the highest Gnostic heaven. .

The scuffling of feet sounded on the porch outside. Janet passed through the room hurriedly, behind them. Gwyon reached for his wrist again. It was not there, and Gwyon's hand gripped the edge of the table. — "The gods are benevolent and regardful of the human race," says Elisæus, Gwyon said almost in a whisper. — "If only men acknowledge the greatness of the gods and their own insignificance, and take pleasure in the gifts of the earth distributed by the hands of the king. ."

Janet's footsteps sounded in the front hall, and the door banged open, spilling voices into the house. Gwyon paused. His hand shook on the edge of the table, and his lip quivered. — Mithras means friend, he said, — mediator. Mithras is mediator between the gods and the lower world. He waited anxiously, as though for confirmation, as footsteps approached in the hall.

— Hell? the lower world, hell? came in distracted query.

— Our own earth, Reverend Gwyon answered, and was silent until Janet's voice broke in upon them from the doorway, and he leaped up.

— It's the Use-Me Ladies to see you, Reverend, said she.

Reverend Gwyon was through the doorway in the other direction before she'd finished her sentence, muttering — I'll… be a minute, as he passed her. The study door banged, and from inside the sound of a book hurled to the floor a moment later.

Janet fled to the kitchen, as footsteps sounded straight down the front hall to the dining room. Three ladies came in. The cold came in with them; it clung round them as they came to a stop.

— Reverend. .

— Reverend. .

— I beg your pardon. We have come to see Reverend Gwyon.

— Oh, I… I… He just went out.

— Went out?

— Went out?

— But in this kind of weather he never goes out. Reverend Gwyon is always irritable when the sky clouds over and we have bad weather.

— No, I mean. . just out of the room. He'll be right back.

— I see.

— We'll wait. And are you visiting here?

— I? Why, you might say… — It may have surprised you, when we mistook you for Reverend Gwyon.

— But there is a resemblance.

— There is a resemblance. Of course Reverend Gwyon is a good deal bigger.

— A good deal older. But as you're dressed, you may see where we make our mistake. Are you in the Lord's work?

— I? why I… Yes, I'm. .

— I can't see where I saw the resemblance.

—. . the Reverend Gilbert Sullivan.

— But just for a minute. .

— Just for a minute I saw it too. It may be that only this morning we were speaking of Reverend Gwyon's son.

— Who has been away a very long time.

— The prodigal son.

— But he has no brothers.

— Yes, the poor boy.

— Poor Camilla., — May was really a mother to him.

— Poor May.

— It was a severe trial for everyone.

— He wasn't a strong boy.

— But then Camilla…

— Poor Camilla…

— Poor Camilla never was strong.

— Taken and left in foreign lands. Left to lie among Roman Catholics.

— I trust the Reverend Gilbert Sullivan is not a Roman Catholic priest? The name. .

— The name…

— Me? Good God, no. I mean…

— The name suggests Irish extraction. Perhaps his forebears are north of Ireland?

— Perhaps we may ask Reverend Gilbert Sullivan to attend our Christmas supper tonight?

— Of course we may.

— Of course he may.

Hurraaaph!. . — Look out, or by God I'll split your skull. Shake the snow off before you come inside. Oh, good day, ladies. I didn't see you, ladies. Don't mind us, the dog and me. We've been outdoors, as you can see. We've been working, both very tired. Up the stairs, now! Up the stairs!

— Working, indeed.

— Indeed! — Indeed!

— Why I could smell him across the room.

— He wanted to sing at the supper tonight. One of his songs from the saloon.

— It is a disgrace to have him our sexton.