Iris Murdoch - The Book And The Brotherhood

Crimond's arrival had disturbed him more than he expected. They had stood in the hall and exchanged remarks about the weather while Crimond had taken off his scarf and overcoat. They had stood by the dining table talking about the difficulty of parking one's car. Then after a moment's silence Crimond had asked about Gerard's father.

It was a considerable time since they had met face to face. Gerard had shaved carefully and put on his bottle-green jacket and combed his hair and wondered if he looked older, and decided he did not. Crimond, he thought, did look a bit older. The brilliant dancing figure of the midsummer ball which Jenkin had compared with Shiva now seemed like something else, something seen in a vision, a manifestation of the essence of Crimond. The person who stood before Gerard in the rather dim light of the dining room looked tired, was shabby, had been out in the cold. The glow, perhaps the freckles, had gone from the pallid countenance. Yet he was still very slim and straight, his longish hair retaining its red colour and its springy wave, his face smooth except for the wrinkles round the eyes. The eyes, in spite of the polite remarks, were hard and wary. He was neat and well-shaved and wearing a tie, but his jacket and his shirt were well worn, the shirt frayed, the jacket, and not recently, patched at the elbows.

'Do sit down,' said Gerard, indicating a chair. He had decided beforehand where each of them should sit. They sat.

'I remember those pictures from your flat in Chelsea,' said Crimond. This was the flat which Gerard had shared with Sinclair. He added, 'And I think at the other flat -'

`Yes. I had some. I've collected a few more.'

Crimond brought a notebook and a pen out of his pocket and arranged them side by side on the table. Then he stared expectantly at Gerard. This might have been a moment for a smile, but neither of them smiled. Crimond's long nose wrinkled slightly. Gerard felt awkward and uneasy. He said, `It's kind of you to come here.'

'It's kind of you to ask me.'

'As I said in my letter, it's just about the book.'

'Yes.'

'How's it getting on?'

'Fine.'

'Is it finished?'

'No.'

'You're still writing it?'

'Of course.'

'It's just that – well, we felt, some of us felt, that we would like some sort of progress report on how the book was developing, what it's turning out to be about -'

Crimond raised his eyebrows. 'It's about politics. It's the same book.'

'Yes, but – what sort of politics? I mean, you used to be rather extreme, and – especially since the book is so long – we wondered if – we thought it might be rather more reflective and less – less inflammatory -'

'Oh yes,' said Crimond flatly, as if Gerard had answered him own question.

'It's not a revolutionary book?'

'Yes, of course.'

'I mean advocating violence and -?'

'Look,' said Crimond, 'who's "we"? You say "we felt" and "we thought".'

'I mean the committee.'

'Who is the committee now?'

'Well, just me and Jenkin and Rose and Gulliver Ashe. My father's gone, of course.'

'Why Gulliver Ashe?'

'We co-opted him.'

'You didn't tell me.'

' I'm sorry,' said Gerard. 'Perhaps we should have told you, it lust didn't seem necessary -'

‘I see. Look, Hernshaw, is this about money? Is it that you don 't want to pay up any more?'

'No,' said Gerard, 'it's not about money!'

'Perhaps you all feel that now I don't need to be supported by you?'

Gerard took a moment to understand what Crimond meant so far had it been from his thoughts. 'No, we don't think that!'

'I am not using anyone else's money, except yours, that is.' Crimond's pale face flushed for a moment, and he put his hand up to his cheek.

Gerard did not like to mention Jean's name, but he wanted to assure Crimond that none of them had calculated that Crimond would now be rich! 'Of course. We never for a moment – that's not what we -'

'So it's about your own money, why shouldn't it be-you feel -you can't afford me any more?’

'No, we can, we will -'

'What's it all about then?'

Crimond, just think – you've been writing this book for years and years and we don't know what's in it! In a sense we've been responsible for it, we'll be regarded as having sort of commissioned it, and as agreeing with it!'

'You did not commission it.'

'All right, but you see -'

‘Perhaps you should have thought of all this earlier.'

'Well, we're thinking of it now.'

'I can't see what this interrogation is supposed to achieve,' said Crimond in a thoughtful tone.' ‘You agreed to finance the book – all right, it's taking a long time. You say this is not About money. I don't see that you can have anything else to say about the book, except that you disagree with it, or you think it's rotten. Do you imagine I'm going to alter it to please you and Rose and Jenkin?

'No -!' -

`You say you want to know what's in it, but there's no point in my trying to tell you now, there's a great deal in it.'

God, thought Gerard, I'm simply being defeated by this man. Of course the idea of seeing him like this is a perfectly silly one, as he is pointing out. I must find some way of ending this ridiculous meeting with some kind of dignity.

`We don't want to interfere, Crimond.'

'I'm glad to hear it.'

'We just want to be -'

`Reassured?'

'We assume – and I'd like to be able to tell the others – we assume this is – well, it must be – to put it bluntly – a sort of serious philosophical book and not a call to arms! I mean it's not like that famous pamphlet about perpetual conflict?'

Crimond looked thoughtfully, frowning, staring at Gerard with his cold eyes. 'That was a short statement.'

`The pamphlet was, yes – but I imagine the message of the book is different – I mean your political views in those days were rather extreme and simple – we were all extreme and simple once – perhaps we changed sooner than you did – but now -'

`But now you think my politics must be about the same as yours and Jenkin's and Rose's?'

'I don't mean exactly! I mean on essential points.'

`Mention an essential point.'

`Well, do you believe in parliamentary democracy?'

`No’

`What do you think about terrorism?'

Crimond continued to stare. Then he said, 'My dear Hernshaw, if we are to have a discussion it can't go onlike this.'

‘Perhaps it need not go on any further,' said Gerard. 'You say you don't believe in democracy and don't answer about terrorism. That's enough to make clear -'

' That you can not be reassured.'

‘Look, I'm sorry I asked you to come like this. Of course there 's nothing to be argued about. We said we'd support you and we will, and you are quite right to point out that we can hardly complain now! I won't keep you. I'm very sorry.'

Gerard made a movement as to rise, but as Crimond did not move he sat back in his chair. Crimond said, 'You want to know what the book's about. I'm prepared to say something about it, why not. We could have some discussion.'

Gerard hesitated. He had composed a reasonably peaceful face – saving end to this uncomfortable scene. Did he really want to talk to Crimond? `Yes, all right.'

Crimond settled back. 'Well, you start then, ask questions, to get things going.'

'You said you didn't believe in parliamentary democracy. Why not?'

Crimond had opened his notebook and was leaning forward. He said after a moment, 'That's not the right question. I can’t answer that now, later perhaps. It needs more background. Try again.'

' Do you belong to any political party?'

'No.'

'To any section, pressure group, secret society, militant movement, that kind of thing?'