Chapter 18 Chapter 6 One, Two, Three

I thought the reader should be greeted first, he can skip this chapter and still catch the thread of the story I want to tell, because most of this chapter is just an account of a conversation between me and Larry.But then again, if it hadn't been for this conversation, I might not have thought it worthwhile to write this book. two That autumn, two months after Eliot's death, I stopped in Paris for a week on my way to England. Isabelle and Gray, who had returned to Brittany after their arduous trip to Italy, were now living again in their apartment in the Rue Saint-Guillaume.Isabel told me the details of Elliott's will.

He left a sum for the church he had built for the Mass for his soul, and a sum for its upkeep. He bequeathed a handsome sum to the bishop of Nice as charitable expenses.He left me his collection of indisputable eighteenth-century obscene books, and a beautiful painting by Fragonard of a goat-god and a nymph doing things behind people's backs. .It's too nasty to hang up, and I'm not one to covet obscene pictures in private.He left quite a lot of money to several servants.His two nephews each received 10,000 yuan, and the rest of the property went to Isabel.How much this property was worth, she did not say, nor did I ask; from her contented appearance it must have been a very large sum.

For a long time, Gray has been eager to return to the United States to return to work since he regained his health.Although Isabelle was quite comfortable in Paris, Gray's restlessness affected her too.Gray had been through letters with his friends for a period of time, but the best chance was for him to spend a considerable amount of capital.He can't afford the money.However, after Eliot's death, Isabel had much more money than Gray needed, so, after obtaining Isabel's consent, Gray began to approach him again; Said that he was going to leave Paris to see for himself.But before the trip, there are many things to do.They must reach a reasonable agreement with the French Finance Bureau on the issue of inheritance tax.They were going to get rid of the house in Antibes and the apartment in the Rue Saint-Guillaume.They had to organize an auction at the Drouot Hotel to get rid of Eliot's furniture, paintings, and drawings.These are very expensive, and it seems best to wait until the spring when the big collectors are likely to be in Paris for the best deal.Isabelle thought another winter in Paris would be all right; the children were now as fluent in French as they were in English, and Isabelle was more than happy to keep them in a French school for a few more months.In the past three years, they have all grown taller, with long legs and thin bodies. They have become lively little girls. They are not as beautiful as their mothers yet, but they are all polite and have one who is never satisfied. curiosity.

that is all. three Larry and I met by accident.I once asked Isabel about him; she told me that they had seen him seldom since LaPaul.She and Gray had made some friends of their own by now, all of their own generation, so they were much busier with appointments than on the happy days when the four of us were always together.One night I went to see Berenice at the Théâtre de France.I have read the play, of course, but I have never seen it acted; and as it is so rare, I am very reluctant to pass up the opportunity.It wasn't Racine's best play, for the subject matter was too light for five acts, but it was very touchingly written, and there were a few passages that deserved to be called popular.The story is based on a short passage written by Tacitus [Note]: Tietu fell in love with the Queen of Palestine, Bechines, and even agreed to marry her as people imagined, but, for the sake of national affairs, he The beginning of his accession to the throne, but against his own wishes, and against Berenice's wishes, made her leave Rome.The reason was that both the Senate and the people of Rome opposed the union of their own emperor with a foreign queen.The script is written about Tietu's psychological struggle between love and duty; when he wavers, in the end Berenice is sure that he loves her, agrees with his starting point, and leaves him forever.

I am afraid that only a Frenchman can fully appreciate the literary and tonal beauty of Racine's poems; but even a foreigner, once accustomed to the mannerisms of his poems, cannot fail to be impressed by his tenderness and noble sentiments. .Few people can understand so much drama in human speech as Racine.In any case, those smooth Alexandrine lines are, for me, a good enough substitute for plot, and I find the long passages, which build to their expected climax with masterful skill, as thrilling as any thriller in the film. Thrilling. There is a break at the end of the third act.I went out to smoke a cigarette in the hall; above the door stood the statue of Voltaire of Udon, grinning ironically with a toothless mouth.Someone tapped me on the shoulder.I turned away, perhaps a little annoyed, because I wanted to be alone with the excitement of those clanging verses; I saw it was Larry.As always, I'm always happy to see him.He and I haven't seen each other for a year, so I suggest we go have a glass of wine together after the play.Larry said he was hungry because he hadn't had supper, and suggested going up to Montmartre.When the time comes, we will meet and walk out of the theater together.The Theater de France has a peculiar musty smell.That smell mingled with the smell of generations of waitresses who never took a shower, put on a straight face, ushered you to your seat, and waited stiffly for your tip.It made one take a deep breath when going outside; and as the evening was fine we walked all the way through.The arc lights of the Rue du Opera flaunted proudly; the stars in the sky seemed to disdain to compete with them, and hid their brilliance in endless darkness.As we walked, we talked about the play we just watched.Larry was disappointed.He originally hoped to act more naturally, read the poems as if they were speaking, and the postures should not be so dramatic.I think he is wrong.The play is rich in rhetoric, and it uses flamboyant rhetoric, so I think the lines should read artificially.I like that pause when I meet a rhyme; and those graceful postures and figures, which have been preserved by a long tradition to this day, seem to be suitable for this artistic style that emphasizes form.I daresay Racine would have liked his plays to be played like this.

In the past, I always admired the actors who tried to be real, warm and human under many constraints.Art can use traditional formats to achieve its own goals, which is the victory of art. We arrived at the Avenue de Clichy and entered the Brasserie Graff Hotel.It was shortly after twelve o'clock at night, and the restaurant was full of people, but we found a table and ordered ham and eggs.I told Larry I saw Isabel. "Gray should be happy to be back in the United States," he said. "He's a fish out of water here. He won't be happy if he has a job again. I bet he'll make a lot of money."

"If he makes a lot of money, it's all your fault. You not only cured his illness, but also his heart disease. You restored his self-confidence. " "I did very little. I just showed him how to heal himself." "It's limited, how did you learn it?" "Coincidentally. That was when I was in India. I was suffering from insomnia and I happened to be talking to an old yogi I knew; he said fix me right now. He did to me what you saw me do to Gray That one; that night, I slept so well, I haven't slept so well in months. Then, a year later, I climbed the Himalayas with an Indian friend of mine; he broke his ankle .Can't find a doctor in the area, and his foot hurts like hell. I figured I'd try it like an old yogi, and it worked. Believe it or not, he's got no pain at all." Larry laughed. "I can assure you, I am more surprised than anyone.

There's really no mystery in it; it just puts the idea in the patient's mind. " "Easier said than done." "Would you be surprised if your arm lifted involuntarily from the table?" "Of course I was very surprised." "It will. When we got back to civilization, my Indian friends told people that I could do it, and brought others to see me. I was very reluctant to do it, because I didn't fully understand it. What's the matter, but they insisted on me. For some reason, I always cured them. I found that not only the pain was relieved, but the fear was also removed. The strange thing is that many people suffer from phobias. I said The fear of men is not the fear of being shut up or of standing on high ground, but of death, or worse, of life. They often appear to be perfectly healthy, well-to-do, and carefree, and yet they are Fear tormented. I sometimes feel that this is the most disturbing psychological tendency in human nature; at one time, I even wondered if this is rooted in some animal instinct. Inherited from the original matter."

I listened to Larry expectantly, because he rarely spoke this long.I also noticed that this time he was finally willing to talk.Perhaps the play we had just seen had relieved some inner repression, and the brisk cadence had overcome his natural restraint, as a concert would have elicited.Suddenly, I felt something was wrong with my hands.I paid no heed to that tongue-in-cheek question Larry just said.Now I feel that my hands are no longer resting on the table, but are involuntarily lifted about an inch from the table.I was taken aback, and when I looked at my hand, I noticed it was shaking slightly.I felt a curious tremor in the nerves of my arm, and as it jolted, the hand and forearm rose of their own accord, and I neither participated nor resisted until they were several inches from the table; then, Feel the whole arm go over the shoulder.

"That's weird," I said. Larry smiled.With a little exercise of will, my hand dropped back to the table. "It's not unusual," he said. "Don't take it for granted." "Did that yogi you just came back from India tell us about it teach you?" "No, he's impatient with such things. I don't know if he believes he has some of the powers some yogis claim to have, but he thinks it's childish to use them." Our egg ham has arrived.The two ate and drank beer with gusto, neither of them spoke.I don't know what he's thinking, I'm thinking about him.When we had finished I lit a cigarette and Larry lit his pipe.

"Why did you go to India in the first place?" I asked him abruptly. "Coincidentally. At least I thought so at the time. Now I am more inclined to think that it was the inevitable result of my many years in Europe. Almost all the people who have influenced me most seem to have met by chance, but in retrospect, it seems very It's impossible to run into them. It's like they're all there waiting for me to get them when I need them. I went to India to take a break from work and to clear my mind. I found a sailor I'm working on one of those cruise ships that go around the world. The ship is heading east and going through the Panama Canal to New York. I haven't been back to the US for five years. I'm homesick. I'm depressed. You know we were years ago How ignorant I was when we first met in Chicago. I read a lot in Europe and saw a lot of things, but not much better than when I started looking for what I was after." I wanted to ask him what he was after, but felt he would smile, shrug his shoulders, and say it wasn't worth talking about. "But why do you want to be a sailor? It's not like you don't have money," I asked him, changing the subject. "I'm going to try it out. As soon as I'm mentally saturated, as long as I absorb as much as I can for a while, I find it good to be a sailor or something. That winter, after Isabel and I broke off our engagement , I worked for six months in a coal mine near Lens." It was at this time that he narrated his experiences which I have described before. "Were you sorry when Isabel threw you away?" Before answering me, he stared at me for a long while, his peculiar deep eyes seemed not to look out, but to look inward. "Yes. I was young then, and had made up my mind to marry, and arranged our lives. I count on living a happy life. He smiled faintly. "However, there must be two people to marry, just as there must be two people to quarrel."It never occurred to me that the life I had arranged for Isabel was a great disappointment to her.If I knew anything about the world, I would never have brought it up to her.She was too young to love life too much.I don't blame her.But I can't compromise. " The reader may now recall that, after his absurd affair with the farmer's widow and his escape from the farm, he went to Bonn.I was eager to hear him go on, but knew I had to be careful not to ask unnecessary questions. "I've never been to Bonn," I said. "I went to school for a while as a child in Heidelberg. That was the happiest period of my life, I think." "I like Bonn; stayed there for a year. I rented a room at the house of a professor at the University of Bonn; the professor is dead, and his widow has taken in two tenants; both daughters have reached middle age, They did all the cooking and housework. Their other lodger was French, and I was a little disappointed at first because I only wanted to speak German and nothing else; but he was from Alsace and German[Note ] Even if he could not speak more fluently than his French, at least he could enunciate more accurately than his French. He was dressed like a priest; I found out after a few days that he was a priest in black, which surprised me a little. He was The man who was approved by the monastery to do research work in the university library is a well-educated man, but his appearance is no different from the monk in my mind. He is tall and big, with ochre-yellow hair and blue eyes. He has a round red face. He is very timid and reserved, and he doesn't seem to want to strike up a conversation with me, but he is very polite and considerate. He is always polite when talking at the table; I only see him at dinner; After dinner, I stayed in the living room talking to the daughter who didn't wash the dishes, practicing German, and he always went back to his room. "One afternoon, at least a month after I moved here, he asked me if I'd like to go for a walk with him. It was a bit unexpected. He said he could point me to some of the neighborhood places that I dare say I would never have discovered by myself. I can walk quite well, but he beats me at any time. We must have covered fifteen miles on this first walk. He asked me why I came to Bonn, and I said I came to learn German, and I wanted to get acquainted with German literature. He was very talkative and said that he would try to help me. After this time, we always go out for a walk two or three times a week. I I found out that he has taught philosophy for many years. When I was in Paris, I read some philosophy, Spinoza, Plato, Descartes, but none of the great philosophers in Germany. Listen to him talk about these philosophies Home was just what one could wish for, and one day we were taking a short trip across the Rhine and we were sitting in a beer garden drinking beer, and he asked me if I was a Protestant. "'I guess so,' I said. "He gave me a quick glance, and I thought a smile came into his eye. He began to talk about Aeschylus; you know, I studied Greek; Well, I can't even compare it. It was very enlightening to listen to him. I don't understand why he suddenly asked me this question. My patron Uncle Nelson is an agnostic, but he often goes to church because of his illness. Expected him to; he sent me to Sunday-school for the same reason. Our servant Martha was a hard-nosed Baptist; To frighten me by suffering in hell. Certain people in the village, whom she wanted to punish for one reason or another, described to me the various sufferings they were going to suffer in hell. Very happy. "Father Nsham and I got to know each other quite well by the winter. He was quite a man, I thought. I never saw him fretted. Peaceful and honest, more open-minded than I might have hoped, And extremely tolerant. He was very learned, and certainly knew that I knew nothing, but often talked about me as if I were as learned as he. He was very patient with me, as if he had nothing to do but help me. I don’t want anything. One day, I don’t know why, I suffered from low back pain, and my landlady Mrs. Grabau gave me a hot water bottle and insisted that I go to bed. Father Nsham heard that I was ill, and after dinner, Come to my room. I'm fine except for my bad back pain. You know what a nerd is, they always have to figure out a book; when I put down the book I'm reading, he picks it up and reads Look at the title of the book. It was a book about Meister Eckhart. I bought it at a bookstore in the city. He asked me why I read this book, and I told him that I had dabbled in quite Some books on mysticism and talked to him about Costie and how he got me interested in mysticism. He looked at me with those blue eyes, and there was an expression in his eyes that can only be described as cherishing.I felt that he found me rather ridiculous, but at the same time his fondness for me was not diminished by it.Anyway, I never cared if people thought I was a bit of a fool. "What are you looking for in a book like this?" he asked me. "'If I had known,' I replied, 'at least I would have sought it out'. "'You remember when I asked you if you were a Protestant? You said you thought you were. What do you mean?'" 'That's how I was brought up,' I said. "'Do you believe in God?' he asked. "I don't like people asking me these personal questions, so the first thing that comes to mind is to tell him it's none of his business. But his face was so kind that I felt powerless to contradict him.I don't know what to say; I don't want to answer yes, and I don't want to answer no.Maybe it's my low back pain talking, maybe it's some kind of influence he has on me.Anyway, I talked to him about my experience. " Larry hesitated.As he went on, I knew he was not addressing me, but the priest in black.He has forgotten me.I don't know what time or place caused him to violate his reticent character and speak without my urging what he had kept secret for so long. "Uncle Bob Nelson was very democratic and he sent me to Mafen High. It was only because of Aunt Louisa Bradley nagging him that he didn't let me go to St. Paul's when I was fourteen ...I wasn't very good at school or sports, but I just got by. I think I'm a perfectly normal boy. I was crazy about flying. It was still in its early days, and Uncle Bob was just as interested in flying as I was Excited. He knows a few pilots; when I said I wanted to learn to fly, he said he would help me find a way. Although I am young, I have grown tall. Sixteen can be eighteen. Bob Uncle told me to keep it a secret because he knew people would call him a stinker if they found out he let me fly. But, in fact, he was the one who helped me sneak to Canada and gave me a letter of introduction to meet one of his Acquaintances. It turned out that by the age of seventeen I was already working as a pilot in France. "Back then we were flying very crappy planes; you'd bet your life every time you went up in the sky. The altitudes you were flying were ridiculous by today's standards, but we didn't understand it and thought it was great. I love flying I can't describe the feeling in my heart when I fly, I just feel proud and happy. In the sky, flying high, I feel like I have become a part of something great and beautiful. I don't know what it is, just Knowing that above 2,000 feet, I'm not alone like I was before, but I belong. It may sound stupid, but I can't really explain it. When I fly above the clouds and see those clouds Like a flock of sheep beneath my feet, I feel like one with infinity." Larry paused, staring at me from his unfathomable eye sockets, but I couldn't tell if he saw me or not. "I knew that thousands of people died, but I didn't see them die, so it didn't matter to me. Then I saw a dead person. It made me feel ashamed." "Ashamed?" I called out involuntarily. "I'm ashamed, because that child is only three or four years older than me. He is so energetic and brave. Not long ago, he was still full of vitality and kindness, but now there is only a pile of rotten meat left, as if he had never been alive. As if." I didn't say anything.I saw dead people when I was a medical student, and even more during war.What turned me off was that they looked so small and devoid of dignity.Just discarded puppets. "I didn't sleep that night. I cried. I didn't worry about myself; I felt resentful; it was the ugliness of death that got me out of control. The war was over, and I went home. I used to love machines . If there's nothing to do with aviation, I'll be in a car factory.I've been hurt before and can only do nothing for a while.Then they asked me to get a job.I can't do the kind of things they want me to do.It seems boring. I used to spend a lot of time thinking.I keep asking myself what is life for.In the end, it's just luck that I'm alive; I want to do something with my life, but I don't know what to do.I've never given a thought to God.Now I think of him.I don't understand why there is evil in the world.I know I'm superficial; I don't know anyone to ask for advice, but I want to learn, so I just start reading at random. "When I told Father Nsham all this, he asked me: 'Well, you've been reading for four years, haven't you? Have you found the answer yet?'" 'Not at all,' I said. "He looked at me with such a benevolent look on his face that it confused me. I don't know what I said that moved him so much. He tapped his fingers on the table as though he were thinking of something. same thing. "'Our wise old church,' he said at the time, 'has found out that if you act like you pretend to be religious, you will be religious; if you pray with doubts, but with a heart, your doubts will be removed. The spiritual power of our Eucharist is attested to by centuries of human experience; if you will subject yourself to the beauty of the Eucharist, perhaps Heaven will grant you peace.I will be returning to the monastery soon.Why don't you come and live with us for a few weeks?You can work in the fields with our handyman monks; read in the library at night.This experience is not necessarily inferior to working in a coal mine or working on a German farm. '"'Why are you suggesting I do this?, I asked. "'I've been watching you for three months,' he said. 'Perhaps I understand you better than you understand yourself. There is only a thin paper between you and faith.'" Words did not say anything.It was as if someone had tugged on my heartstrings and plucked it, giving people a strange feeling.Finally I told him, let me think about it.He stopped talking.During the rest of Father Ensham's stay in Bonn, we never mentioned anything about religion, but when he left he gave me the address of the monastery and said that if I decided to go, I just had to write him a note , he will arrange a place for me.After he left, I missed him more than I expected.The days passed quickly, and it was midsummer again.Summer in Bonn is pretty good.I read Goethe, Schiller, Heine Z, Holderlin[note] and Rilke[note]; but still, I haven't found the answer.I often thought about what Father Nsham said, and finally decided to accept his invitation. "He came to meet me at the station. The abbey is in Alsace, and the countryside is beautiful. Father Nsham introduced me to the abbot, and then led me to the small room assigned to me. There was a narrow iron bed in the room, and the walls There was a crucifix hung on it, and the furnishings were simple, just some necessities of life. When the lunch bell rang, I went to the refectory. It was a hall with a dome. The abbot led two monks to stand at the door, One monk brought a basin of water, and the other held a towel. The abbot sprinkled a few drops of water on both hands of the guest, washed them, and then dried them with the towel handed to him by the monk. There were three other monks besides me. The guests, two other passing priests stayed for lunch; and an elderly disgruntled Frenchman, who had come to hermit here. "The abbot and his two assistants, one principal and one assistant, sat at the top of the dining-room, at a table each; the priests sat on either side along the walls, and the monks and servants and guests sat in the middle of the dining-room. After saying a prayer of thanksgiving, everyone started to eat. A novice monk stood at the entrance of the restaurant, reading a Taoist book in a monotonous voice. After the meal, everyone prayed thanksgiving again.The abbot, Ensham, the guests, and the monk who entertained the guests went into a smaller room to drink coffee and talk miscellaneously.Then I went back to my little room. "I stayed for three months, and I was very happy. That kind of life suits me perfectly. The library is very good, and I read a lot of books. None of the priests tried to influence me in any way, but it was a pleasure to be with me. Talk. Their learning, their piety, and their unconventional airs have struck me deeply. Don't think they lead a life of idleness. They are always busy. Sow their own land, Hit the food yourself, and I'm glad I helped them do it. I love the splendor of the prayers, but my favorite is the morning service. It's four o'clock in the morning. You're sitting in a church with the night all around you, feeling Especially moving; at this time, the monks mysteriously put on their costumes, hoods pulled up over their heads, and sang the simple songs of the liturgy with their strong male voices. Such daily activities give people a sense of security. and, despite all the effort, though the mind never ceases to be active, you feel a lasting peace." Larry smiled regretfully. "Like Laura [Note], I was born too late to meet my own time. I should have been born in the Middle Ages, when religious belief was a matter of course. Then I would see my future clearly and live in the Get a position in the church. Now I can't believe it. I want to believe it, but I can't believe in a God who is not much better than the average upper class. The priests tell me that God created the world to glorify himself. It seems to me Not a noble thing. Did Beethoven write his symphonies to glorify himself? I don't believe so. I believe he wrote them because there was a music in his soul to express, and he had to What I want to do is to express these music to the best of my ability. "I have often heard priests repeat their pre-meal prayers, wondering how they could go on praying without suspecting that their heavenly Father gave them their daily bread. Do children beg their earthly father to give them food? They expect him to. do, and do not thank him for doing so, nor need to thank him; for a father who bears a child and cannot support it or does not want to support it, we can only blame him. I think that if an almighty creator is not prepared to create for him It is better for him not to create the necessary material and spiritual food for all sentient beings to survive.” "My dear Larry," I said, "you had better not have been born in the Middle Ages. Otherwise, you shall be condemned to death." he laughed. "You've accomplished a lot," he continued. "Would you like to be complimented to your face?" "It's just embarrassing for me." "I think it would be the same for you. I can't believe that God wants flattery. In the Air Force, we despise a guy who sucks up a commander to get a good job. A guy wants to suck up to being poor, and Saved from God, who I'm sure would look down on him too. I've always thought God's favorite worshiper is the one who does the best you can with your knowledge." "But that's not the first thing that confuses me. I can't understand the idea of ​​primordial evil that, as far as I know, is part of the minds of priests. When I was in the Air Force, I knew many people. Of course they get drunk and sleep with girls every chance they can, and talk dirty; and we have a bad guy or two: a guy got arrested for writing a bad check and got six months in prison; It was all his fault; he never had money, and when he got more money than he wanted, he got carried away. I met people in the ring in Paris: back in Chicago, I met more bad guys, but most of them do bad things because of genetics, which is beyond their imagination, or because of circumstances, which is not up to them to choose Des: For these crimes, dare to say that society should bear more responsibility than them.If I were God, I'd try to punish one of them, even the worst of them, into hell, and suffer in perdition.Father Nsham is more open-minded; he thinks hell is the loss of God's protection, but if that is an unbearable punishment that qualifies as hell, can you imagine a merciful God enforcing that punishment?After all, he made men; if he made them so that they could sin, he made them sin. It wouldn't be fair if I trained a dog to bite the throat of a stranger who came into my back yard and then I beat him after he had bit the throat of a stranger. "If a good and omnipotent God created the world, why did he create evil? The priests said that this is to enable people to overcome their evil nature, resist temptation, and use pain and sorrow as God's way to cleanse himself To accept the test, to make oneself finally worthy to enjoy the grace of God. It is like sending a person to send a letter to a certain place, and then creating a maze in the way he must pass, making it difficult for him to pass, and digging a trench to make him swim across it, and finally to build a wall for him to climb over. I don't believe that an Almighty God has no common sense. I don't see why you can't conceive of a God who didn't create the world, but a God who did his best, like Man is much better, much wiser, much greater, fighting against an evil that he did not create, and may in the end conquer evil. But then again, I can't say why you should believe in such a God. "Those priests couldn't solve the problems that puzzled me, either intellectually or emotionally. I was not on the same page as them. When I went to say goodbye to Father Nsham, he didn't ask me To profit from an experience which he considered sure. He looked at me with infinite kindness. "'I am afraid I have failed your kindness, Father,' said I. "'No,' he replied. 'You are a deeply religious godless man. God will pick you. You will come back. Here or elsewhere, God alone can say.'"