Iris Murdoch - The Bell

“Get out of the way,” said Toby.

“Come, come,” said Nick. “Let’s have no violence and cross words. Seek ye the Lord while He may be found. Only for that reason is time important. Sit down.” He gave Toby a sudden push which made him stagger back and sit abruptly in the armchair by the stove. Then, picking up the whisky bottle, Nick began to pull the table with one hand across the floor and jammed it noisily against the door. He sat upon it, drawing his legs up. He crossed himself.

“Nick, this isn’t funny,” said Toby. “I don’t want to struggle with you, but I’m going out.”

“You’d better not struggle with me,” said Nick,“unless you want to get hurt. Since you’re in a hurry we’ll cut out the hymns and prayers and go straight on to the sermon. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Dearly beloved, we are come of a fallen race, we are sinners one and all. Gone are the days in the Garden, the days of our innocence when we loved each other and were happy. Now we are set each man against his fellow and the mark of Cain is upon us, and with our sin comes grief and hatred and shame. What is there to lighten our darkness? What is there to ease our pain? Wait, there is a consolation and a remedy, the very Word of God, the dayspring from on high. A higher destiny and a higher joy awaits us than any which was known to our primeval pa as he lay blameless under the apple tree. It comes, it comes and it will make Gods of us all. I speak, beloved, of the joys of repentance, the delights of confession, the delicious pleasure of writhing and grovelling in the dust. O felix culpa ! For had we been without sin we had been deprived of that supreme enjoyment. And see miraculously how our pain and our shame can be transformed! How sweet then our guilt, how welcome our transgression, which can bring on the pangs of so sharp a joy. Let us embrace our sin, beloved, and fall to couple with it upon the ground. Let us overcome our shame and turn Our sorrow into joy, proclaiming our ill-deeds, kneeling and prostrating ourselves in the dust, and calling out for judgement, ravished, repentant, redeemed.”

“Nick, you’re raving!” cried Toby, raising his voice to check Nick’s increasingly loud and excited utterance. “Let me out!”

“You shall stay to the end,” said Nick. “The interesting part is just beginning. Do you imagine that I’m ranting in the void? By no means. What I have to say most intimately concerns each member of my congregation, and as you are its only member, apart from Murphy who is without sin, it most intimately concerns you.” He took a quick drink from the bottle. Toby had risen from his chair.

“Listen to me,” said Nick, speaking more rapidly and pointing his finger. “Do you imagine I don’t know all the tricks you are up to, Toby, all your little games? You treat me as if I were a piece of furniture, you think I don’t notice what goes on under my nose – but I’ve made you a subject of loving study, Toby. And how you repay study, dear boy, believe me. So pure, so pretty, when you arrived, feeling yourself so good, belonging also to the communion of saints. What a pleasure that was, to be sure, it did my heart good to see you enjoying it all so much. But then what happens, what do we find? Our innocent, how quickly he learns. His head is turned, his vanity is tickled. He has found something more pleasurable now than religious emotion. A flirtation under the walls of a nunnery – what could be more thrilling? So first he plays the woman and then, to make sure he can do both, he plays the man!”

“Stop it, Nick, stop it!” cried Toby. He stood right before him with clenched fists and a burning face.

“I’ve seen you at it,” said Nick. “I’ve seen your love life in the woods, tempting our virtuous leader to sodomy and our delightful penitent to adultery. What an achievement! So young and so extremely versatile!” He drank some more from the bottle.

“Get out of the way!” said Toby. He was almost incoherent with distress and anger and fear. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Isn’t it?” said Nick. “After all, we’re supposed to be looking after each other, aren’t we? We are members one of another. You never bothered to look after me, but I take my responsibilities more seriously. I can hold the mirror up to you as well as the next man. What are you going to do about it? That’s what I want to know. And what about your little frolic with the bell? Oh yes, I know all about the bell too, and that faked-up miracle you’re planning with your female sweetheart.”

“Shut up!” cried Toby. He advanced on Nick and began pulling at the table. Nick uncurled his legs but still sat there laughing. Toby was unable to move the table.

“Wretched child,” said Nick. “I told you you’d have to stay till the end. I wonder if you have any idea of the harm you’re causing? To poor Michael for instance. But as for Michael his cup is filling and will soon run over, though not in the way the psalmist meant. Do you think you can play fast and loose like that with a religious man? Perhaps you think he smothers you with kisses and then goes to the Communion table with a light heart? You are busy destroying a man’s faith, undermining his life, preparing his ruin – and even then you can’t give it all your attention but start playing charades with a bloody bitch!”

“Oh stop, stop, stop!” shouted Toby. He plunged forward seizing Nick by the shoulder, meaning to pull him from his perch. Nick immediately gripped the boy about the neck and they fell struggling to the floor. Murphy began to whine and then to bark. Nick was the stronger.

“Shut up, Murphy, you’re in church!” said Nick. Nick had now got one of Toby’s arms twisted behind him and bis knee braced in the boy’s back. Toby’s head was pressed lower and lower.

“Down, down, that’s right,” said Nick in his ear. This is the confessional, only you needn’t bother with your confession as I know it all. It’s someone else you’ve got to tell the tale to, someone who hasn’t heard it yet. The joys of penitence await you, Toby. Meanwhile, have a swig of this in remembrance of me.” He tried to turn Toby over, and reaching up for the whisky bottle poured a little of the whisky on to Toby’s lips.

Like a spring released the boy began to struggle. The bottle fell between them and broke. They rolled across the floor upsetting Murphy’s dish of water and rolling into the remains of his supper. Splashed with water, whisky, and gravy they fought among the chaos of old newspapers and broken glass. Nick was still the stronger.

Toby lay quiet. He was on his back now and Nick’s face was above him. In this position they rested, both panting. Nick looked down at him and smiled. “Poor child,” he said, “it hurts me to do this, believe me it does. But I am made to be a scourge to certain men. You wouldn’t understand. But at least I hope you’ve seen the point of my sermon. You’re going to get up now and set your clothes to rights and then you’re going to go like a good boy and make your confession to the only available saint, indeed the only available man, and that is James Tayper Pace. Up you get.”

Nick rose and Toby staggered to his feet, brushing down his clothing. He looked at Nick, dazed and appalled.

“I wish I could congratulate you on your truthful disposition,” said Nick, “but the fact is that you have little choice. If by tomorrow you haven’t had your little talk with James and told him everything I shall feel it my duty to make a statement. And by a happy law of nature, however low one wants to grovel one never paints oneself quite as black as the unprejudiced and unsympathetic spectator can paint one. Another of the charms of confession. Felix culpa , felix Toby! Now go. And don’t let your anger against me stop you from seeing that what I say is just. Go, go, go.”