‘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 on like 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?’
‘If it was secret I would be unlikely to tell you – but no, I don’t belong to any group of that sort.’
‘You’re a lone wolf?’
‘Yes – now.’
‘You did belong –? Why did you leave?’
‘Because of the book. I didn’t want to waste time arguing with people who understood
nothing.
’
Gerard was beginning to relax. He thought, it’s all right after all, it
is
a philosophical book, it’s a harmless theoretical work. We’ve been making a fuss about nothing. ‘So it’s a theoretical book?’
‘Of course.’
‘Would you still call yourself a Marxist?’
‘Yes. But that doesn’t give much information these days.’
‘You’re a revisionist?’
‘I’m not a Stalinist if that’s what that question means. I’m not a Leninist either. I don’t like the term revisionist. I’m in the Marxist stream.’
‘Whom do you follow?’
‘
Follow?
’
‘Well, whose views do you discuss in the book, whom do you endorse?’
‘No one.’
‘You mean it’s detached, it’s a sort of history of ideas? I’m glad to hear that –’
‘Any book about politics mentions past ideas, Hegel, Marx and Lenin mention past ideas.’
‘You’d call it a political book?’
‘Yes, of course!’
‘But whose politics?’
‘My politics!’
‘You mean it’s an original book of political philosophy?’
‘It’s an original book,’ said Crimond in an exasperated tone. ‘Do you imagine I’d work like a demon for years and years just to mull over somebody else’s thoughts? These are my thoughts, my analyses, my prophecies, my programme!’
‘So it’s not a philosophy book?’
‘How weird your categories are! It’s philosophy, if you like – but what does that mean – it’s
thinking
, and it’s a programme of
action.
That’s its
point.
’
‘So it’s like a very long pamphlet?’
‘No. It’s not a long simplification. It’s about everything.’
‘Everything?’
‘Everything except Aristotle. I regard him as an unfortunate interlude, now happily over.’
‘We can agree on that.’ Gerard ventured a faint smile, but Crimond was glaring at the surface of the table which he was beginning to scratch intently with his finger nail. Gerard decided not to stop him. ‘But, Crimond, if, as you say, you’ve cut yourself off from ordinary practical politics and become a lone wolf, how can you talk about a programme of action? You claim to be a Marxist, so you know that politics is very fine
work, you’ve got to be inside it all the time, pushing and pulling, to get anything done at all. Or do you imagine that you can institute a revolution by propounding a theory?’
Crimond stopped scratching the table and stared at Gerard with his blue eyes wide open and his thin mouth thrust forward. His long nose, his whole face, pointed fiercely at Gerard. Perhaps he’s really a bit mad, Gerard wondered, I never seriously thought that before. As Crimond did not answer his question Gerard went on, speaking quietly and patiently. ‘A reflective book can be very valuable and can do more good. So if what you call your “programme” is all wrapped up in ideas, so much the better.’
‘Hernshaw,’ said Crimond, ‘I am not, as you seem to imagine, mad, I am not a megalomaniac –’
‘All right!’
‘I just happen to believe that I am writing a
very important book.
’
The door of the dining room opened abruptly and Patricia put her head in, then entered. ‘Hello, you two, would you like some coffee?’
‘No, thanks,’ said Gerard, then to Crimond, ‘would you? No? Pat, you remember Crimond, you met ages ago I think. My sister Patricia.’
Crimond, who had risen, and clearly did not remember her, bowed slightly.
‘Or tea, or some sherry? Or biscuits?’
‘No. Pat dear, do leave us alone!’
The door closed. Crimond sat down. Gerard was wondering what thread to pick up when Crimond, who had returned to inspecting the table, threw back his head and ruffled up his reddish hair and said, ‘I gather you’ve retired, what are you going to do?’
‘Write,’ said Gerard, irritated by Crimond’s brusque tone.
‘What about?’
‘Plotinus.’
‘Why? You’re not a historian, and you can hardly call yourself a philosopher. You probably stopped thinking long ago. What you did in the civil service wasn’t thinking, you
could do that job in your sleep. Thinking is agony. Your book on Plotinus will turn out to be an article on Porphyry.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Gerard, determined to keep his temper. Was there going to be a row after all?
‘Do you believe in God?’
‘Of course not!’ said Gerard.
‘You do, you know. You’ve felt superior all your life. You think you’re saved by the Idea of the Good just because you know about it. The planet goes down in flames but you and your friends feel secure. You attach too much importance to friendship.’
‘If this is to become a slanging match it had better end here. I wanted to get an impression of you and your book, and I’ve got it.’
‘You’ve never really cared for anything except your parrot.’
Gerard was astounded. ‘How on earth did you know –?’
‘His name was Grey. You told me about him on the very first occasion when we met, when we walked back from a lecture and we went into the Botanical Garden and into the greenhouse. Do you remember?’
Gerard did not remember. ‘No.’ He was amazed and upset. ‘I never told anybody. I certainly don’t recall telling you.’
‘Well, you did. I’m sorry, don’t get angry. And what I said just now was nonsense, just spite. I do want to talk to you though. Our second innings, perhaps, to use Raffles’s terminology.’
‘I see no parallel,’ said Gerard, recovering. ‘We never had a first innings. But go on.’
‘You’ve forgotten that too. A second innings is always played differently. Never mind. Another of your troubles is that you’re afraid of technology.’
‘Perhaps you don’t mind the idea of a world without books?’
‘It’s inevitable, so it must be understood, it must be embraced, even loved.’
‘So after all you turn out to be a historical materialist! What about
your
book?’
‘It will perish with the rest. Plato, Shakespeare, Hegel, they’ll all burn, and I shall burn too. But before that my book
will have had a
certain influence
, that’s its point, that’s what I’ve been striving for all these years, that little bit of influence.
That’s
what’s worth doing, and it’s the
only thing
that’s worth doing now, to
look
at the future and make some sense of it and
touch
it. Look, Gerard, I don’t think I’m God, I don’t think I’m Hegel, I don’t even think I’m Feuerbach –’
‘All right, all right.’
‘I just belong to
now
, I’m doing what has to be done
now
, I’m
living
the history of our time, which you and your friends seem to be entirely unaware of –’
‘All right, what
about
what has to be done now? What about poverty and hunger and injustice? What about practical politics and social work?’
‘Don’t misunderstand me –’
‘And please don’t scrape the table with your finger nails.’
‘Sorry. Of course we have to deal with poverty and injustice. People like you donate money to charities and then forget it all. As for social work you’ve never been near it in your life, it’s something which other inferior people do. One has to think
radically
about these problems –’
‘You believe in revolution, in violent revolution?’
‘All revolutions are violent, with or without barricades. There will
be
revolution so we must
think
revolution.’
‘Perhaps we’ve reached the stage where you can tell me why you don’t believe in parliamentary democracy?’
‘It’s obvious. As a form of authority it can’t survive. The world in the next century is going to look more like Africa than like Europe. We’ve got to have the courage to try to understand the whole of history and make genuine predictions. That’s why Marxism is the only philosophy in the world today.’
‘But there’s no such thing as history! Your theory is based on a mistake. All it comes to is wreck the nearest thing and imagine something good will automatically come about! You combine irrational pessimism with irrational optimism! You foresee terrible things, but you also think that you can understand the future and control it and love it! Marxism has always
“saved” its extremely improbable hypotheses by faith in a Utopian conclusion. And you accuse me of believing in God!’
‘Yes. Absolute pessimism and absolute optimism, both are necessary.’
‘Is that what’s called dialectical thinking?’
‘You’ve always been too frightened of talking nonsense, that’s why you could never really do philosophy. I am not a utopian, I don’t imagine that the state will wither away or the division of labour will cease or alienation will disappear. Nor do I think that we shall have full employment or a classless society or a world without hunger in any future that we can conceive of now. It’s the wasteland next. Of course I think this society, our so-called free society, is rotten to the core – it’s oppressive and corrupt and unjust, it’s materialistic and ruthless and immoral, and soft, rotted with pornography and kitsch. You think this too. But you imagine that in some way all the nice things will be preserved and all the nasty things will become less nasty. It can’t be like that, we have to go through the fire, in an oppressive society only violence is honest. Men are half alive now, in the future they’ll be puppets. Even if we don’t blow ourselves up the future will be, by your nice standards, terrible. There will be a crisis of authority, of sovereignty, technology will rule because it will have to rule. History has passed you by, everything happens fast now, we have to run to stay in the same place, let alone get a step ahead to see where we are. We’ve got to rethink everything –’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Gerard. He felt his heart beating faster, he felt hot and took off his jacket. ‘You say men will be puppets and technology will rule, but surely, whether you call yourself a Marxist or not, you must be working
against
such a society, not for it! All right, the present is imperfect and the future looks grim, but we must just hold onto what’s good, hold onto our values and try to weather the storm. You say rethink everything, but in the light of what? We must be pragmatic and hopeful, not in love with despair! We can’t know the future, Marx couldn’t predict the future, and he was
looking into one a good deal steadier than ours. We must defend the individual –’
‘What individual?’
‘Come off it,’ said Gerard.
‘The bourgeois individual won’t survive this tornado, he has already disintegrated, he has withered, he knows he’s a fiction. I am not in love with despair, I am in love if you like with a good society which doesn’t yet exist. But one cannot even glimpse that society unless one
understands
the collapse of this one.’
‘I suppose you see yourself as a commissar in a world state of puppets who can’t read or write! The elite would have the books, the rest would be watching television!’
‘We
won’t be there, we are trash, we deserve nothing not even whipping, of course we are in pain, we are living through our own dissolution, all
we
can do –’