“Have you ever known a horse that is so bestial as a Christian? All right, there is no question of horses, there is the question of the man to whom evil happens because he has no faith in eternity and the man who causes evil in the name of God.”
“They may both be punished.”
“And when there is an institution that does evil in the name of God, that for centuries has been responsible for more killing, starving, imprisoning, and torturing than any other institution in history, do you not take this responsibility as a reflection upon the institution or do you happily look forward to a further riot of punishment in the light of which these earthly crimes might indeed appear beautiful?”
“Peter!” Annabelle said.
“And when you call out to this God your Father to spare you from this punishment, do you not consider it pathetic that this cry should be made to the one who has created you, who is supposed to love you, whose nature is said to be forgiveness? Pathetic that you should be expected to crawl on your knees to this Father, this so-called father, who loves you but would have you groveling before he deigns to listen to you, let alone give his blessing to you? Pathetic that you should use such a word as father to describe such an image of malevolence? Is there any earthly father who would not weep to see you crawl?”
“Peter!”
“Has he not created you and created you thus? Is it for him too to create hell for you? Those whom he has created wicked, does he not know them to be wicked and is not hell where he has desired them? And is not this creation to hell the deed of a devil? And you, you who follow him, is not that why you regard the desperation of the world with such equanimity, why you drink your drinks and laugh your laughs and make such light of agonies, why you smile as you lie and continue to sin excusing murder and every atrocity? There is no destruction that has not had the blessing of the church upon it, no false blessing that has not had a fictitious devil to excuse it. Why do you bless hatred and search for excuses in the name of a creed that condemns hatred and has no cover for excuses? Why do you lie and sin and allow all villainy if it is not power that you desire instead of truth? There is no truth to you, there is only power. Why do you behave as devils when you say that you are fighting the devil? Why else except that there is no devil but that which you call your God!”
Annabelle began to cry.
“A pathetic God and a pathetic devil whom you crawl to love on your knees like cats, who bids you love your neighbour with the strangulation of frogs — on top of him, always, superior to him, scorning him — soft frogs squatting on top of the world’s monstrosities. For two thousand years you have ministered to the world, have had your power over it, have done what you wanted to it; you have assisted at the birth of every generation and seen them reborn into Christ; every generation has worshipped you, followed you, and this is what you have got — frog spawn, frog spawn, a nasty mess in the mud-heap with a tadpole as Holy Ghost!”
There was a silence for a while and then Peter said in a voice which by this time he made no effort to prevent from shaking: “Or would it be more charitable just to think you mad?”
Father Jack replied, calmly, “Peter, you must realize this, that either you believe in the God of Love or else you will think for ever that the world is mad.”
“Then I think it mad.”
“You must realize also that it is not possible to live in a madhouse. It is not possible to remain a human being if you believe that the world is a madhouse.”
“I believe it a madhouse!”
“Then you better get out of it quick.”
I do not know if this was said in anger. Father Jack’s old wrinkled face betrayed no anger. But Annabelle looked at him through her tears and I wished he had not said it, and then I thought that perhaps it was said on purpose because Peter at that moment would have done anything rather than obey Father Jack’s instructions. But we none of us guessed the speed of Peter’s reaction.
The reaction from pride. The last refuge of pride. I should have guessed it.
Marius arrived. There was something unbearable in his coming. He looked at us all quickly and then went straight to Annabelle. He was embarrassed like a child that is introduced to strangers. For a long time they had not seen each other and now they were saying good-bye. Father Jack joined them. Annabelle was smiling and Marius had lowered his head. They stood there. It was as if they might join hands and remain.
And for Peter, I thought, it was his best friend who was saying good-bye to the sister whom he had seduced and was leaving with his child. And the priest to bless them. As I watched him this was what I imagined.
They ignored Peter. As if in defiance to him they stood in their circle with their backs to him and denied him. What was between them was very evident, like the holding of hands. I did not know what this would mean to Peter. When I looked at him again I thought it was only his position in the room that made him seem so lonely.
When Marius had said what he had come to say he moved as if to go. Then he saw Peter. “Good-bye,” he said. We were separated from Peter by enormous distances. It might have been true that we did not care about him. “You are not going?” Peter said. “Yes,” Marius said.
Annabelle had sat down; and now, as if the spring of her energy had broken, the white face of the stone had returned and she looked as if she were dying. Her hand clutched the arm of the chair and her body was twisted.
“Don’t go,” Peter said. “Please don’t go.”
Because of Annabelle again we ignored him. We moved towards her, and in a last violence of effort she said, “Marius, remember everything, and now you must go.”
“Annabelle,” Peter said, coming across the room.
She snatched herself away from him. “Go, go, for God’s sake go,” she said. And it was Peter who went.
From the middle of the room where he had stood alone and in loneliness had denied us and in loneliness been denied he went out softly so that we still did not notice him. Then as we caught Annabelle falling forwards in her chair she put out her hand to me and drew my head down to her own and whispered, “Peter, now,” and I understood and I left her still falling forwards as if she were dying.
Peter was not on the landing. He is going to kill himself. He was not in the lift because the light in the panel was stationary at the bottom. He is going to kill himself to make amends and Annabelle is dying. I ran down the stairs in an unending spiral. You do not kill through scorn or hatred or even despair, you kill because something has happened that has killed you already. I stopped and listened and could hear no footsteps. You kill because you are lonely and your love has denied you. I saw the huge well of the staircase and a stone floor at the bottom. Annabelle loves Marius she will always love Marius it is Peter whom for one moment she has ceased to love. Still no footsteps and a stone floor at the bottom. Peter is standing upon the staircase and looking at the bottom.
I began to run down again. He is alone with everything that he has loved denied to him, everything he has lived for destroyed by his loneliness. He is alone knowing that love is a lie and that life is too much for him. There is only pride left to him and only one thing pride can do. Existence is nothing when there is only pride, and he can only make an end of it. It is I who have known this feeling. And then I was at the bottom of the staircase among the graves of the basement and I knew that Peter could not have been in front of me because all the way down I had seen the bottom. I must do this I must do this one thing because Annabelle would have done it and now she has asked me. I must do it because we ignored him and it was my fault that he was denied. I must do this thing if I never do anything else in my life. And then I thought he has gone to the roof.