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The enchanter figure in the novels of Iris Murdoch Woo, Elizabeth Annette 1974

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THE ENCHANTER FIGURE IN THE NOVELS OF IRIS MURDOCH by E l i z a b e t h Annette Woo B.A., University of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1957 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS In the Department of English We accept t h i s thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA March, 1974 In presenting th i s thesis in pa r t i a l fu l f i lment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the Un ivers i ty of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the L ibrary sha l l make it f ree l y ava i lab le for reference and study. I fur ther agree that permission for extensive copying of th is thesis for scho lar ly purposes may be granted by the Head of my Department or by his representat ives. It is understood that copying or pub l i cat ion of th is thesis fo r f inanc ia l gain sha l l not be allowed without my writ ten permission. Department of < C ' W The Univers i ty of B r i t i s h Columbia Vancouver 8, Canada D a t e J S V o ^ d ^ , l Q Q q -i i A B S T R A C T The novels of I r i s Murdoch examined i n this thesis f a l l into two categories, defined by herself as "open" and "closed." The "open" novels are The Sandcastle. The Nice  and the Good. An U n o f f i c i a l Rose. The Red and the Green. The  B e l l and Under the Net. The "closed" novels are The I t a l i a n  G i r l , The Unicorn, The Time of the Angels. The F l i g h t from  the Enchanter. A Severed Head. Bruno's Dream and A F a i r l y  Honourable Defeat. The terms "open";and "closed" are de-f i n e d , as well as other terms important i n the study of Iris. Murdoch's novels, such as " j o u r n a l i s t i c " and " c r y s t a l l i n e " novels, "ordinary language man," " t o t a l i t a r i a n man," "enchantment," "fantasy," "form," "contingency," "myth," "love," "normal r e a l i t y , " and "symbolic r e a l i t y . " In each novel there i s an enchanter who i s a figure of power and an object of fantasy to other characters. This figure i s de-scribed i n terms of references to myths, f a i r y t a l e s , fables, f o l k l o r e , or p h i l o s o p h i c a l concepts. The enchanter figure Is of two kinds, "ordinary," or "exotic," and i s seen by the reader as e x i s t i n g on two l e v e l s of r e a l i t y i n the novels, the "normal" and the "symbolic." On the normal l e v e l , the enchanter figure i s seen as a person i n a set of i i i circumstances. On the symbolic l e v e l , he or she i s seen as an a l l e g o r i c a l f i g u r e . The techniques I r i s Murdoch employs i n presenting t h i s figure on both levels of r e a l i t y are the chief concern of t h i s thesis, although the enchanter figure's Importance i n terms of the main themes of the novels are also discussed. These themes are primarily concerned with love as the highest good and as a process through which fantasy i s overcome and a perception of r e a l i t y i s achieved. Through the enchanter fi g u r e , I r i s Murdoch's e t h i c a l views, her l i t e r a r y s k i l l , and the wide range of her sources of knowledge are revealed. iv TABLE OF CONTENTS Page CHAPTER ONE, INTRODUCTION 1 CHAPTER TWO, THE ENCHANTER FIGURE IN "OPEN" NOVELS ... 2 5 CHAPTER THREE, THE ENCHANTER FIGURE IN "CLOSED" NOVELS 92 CHAPTER FOUR, CONCLUSION ... . ... ._ '. . 174 BIBLIOGRAPHY 180 CHAPTER ONE INTRODUCTION A l o g i c a l s t a r t i n g point f o r a discussion of I r i s Murdoch's novels i s her theory of personality, f o r i t i s the pivot from which swing both her l i t e r a r y c r i t i c i s m and. her e t h i c s . Her theory, i n a l l p r o b a b i l i t y , i s the r e s u l t of her d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n with the modern concept of personality, a d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n she expresses i n two a r t i c l e s i n p a r t i c u l a r , "Against Dryness" and "The Sublime and the Be a u t i f u l Revis-ited.." 1 The present idea of personality, she says i n these essays, i s too shallow and flimsy, f o r i t presents man as either "ordinary language man" or " t o t a l i t a r i a n man." "Ordinary language man" i s developed from m a t e r i a l i s t i c be-haviourism, modified by l i n g u i s t i c philosophy, and may be explained thus s My inner l i f e , f or me just as f o r others, i s i d e n t i f i a b l e as e x i s t i n g only through the ap p l i c a t i o n to i t of public concepts, con-cepts which can only be constructed on the basis of overt behaviour.^ "Ordinary language man" i s not overwhelmed by any structure larger than himself, he i s "too abstract, too conventional! he incarnates the commonest and vaguest network of conven-t i o n a l moral thought." 3 _ i n l s concept of man, she saysj 2 represents "the surrender to convention." " T o t a l i t a r i a n man," on the other hand, i s s o l i t a r y , "monarch of a l l he surveys and t o t a l l y responsible f o r a l l his actions. Nothing transcends him."^ He i s l i k e "a neurotic who seeks to cure himself by unfolding a myth about himself."^ In his s o l i p -sism, " t o t a l i t a r i a n man" i s "too concrete, too neurotic."^ Not s u r p r i s i n g l y , she c a l l s t h i s concept of man "the surrender to neurosis." Neither the conventional nor the neurotic view of man, i n her opinion, describes accurately the human personality. What i s needed, i n the present, i s a " s a t i s f a c t o r y L i b e r a l theory of persona l i t y " ^ which w i l l provide "a standpoint f o r considering r e a l human beings i n t h e i r v a r i e t y . " 1 ^ This idea of " r e a l human beings i n t h e i r v a r i e t y " i s at the core of her own idea of personality. Man, i n her view, cannot b e . c l a s s i f i e d and defined, because he i s unique, "unutterably p a r t i c u l a r , r t l 1 "substantlal, impenetrable, i n d i v i d u a l , indefinable and v a l -uable. " ^ He i s above a l l "opaque," that i s , mysterious, un-knowable, unpredictable, or "contingent," a term that i s important i n the consideration of her ideas and her f i c t i o n , f o r i t i s a term which she uses often i n her c r i t i c a l d i s -cussions. Not only i s contingency an important element i n the human personality, but i t i s , i n f a c t , "the essence of p e r s o n a l i t y . " 1 3 Her concept, then, sees man as "free and 3 separate and re l a t e d to a r i c h and complicated world." The modern conventional and neurotic ideas of person-a l i t y , i n her view, have unfortunate effects on modern novels, which also tend to be ei t h e r conventional or neurotic. "Or-dinary language man" i s associated with " j o u r n a l i s t i c " novels, which are large, shapeless and documentary, " o f f e r i n g a commentary on current i n s t i t u t i o n s or on some matter out of history. "^ -5 In these novels, man i s seen i n his s o c i a l aspect only, ("my inner l i f e ... Is i d e n t i f i a b l e as ex i s t i n g only through the a p p l i c a t i o n to i t of public concepts"), not also as an i n d i v i d u a l who i s "contingent." " T o t a l i t a r i a n man" i s associated with " c r y s t a l l i n e " novels which are small and a l l e g o r i c a l , "a t i g h t metaphysical object which wishes i t were a poem and which attempts to convey, often i n mythical form, some ce n t r a l t r u t h about the human condition. "1°" i n these novels, man i s seen as completely, alone, alienated from his s o c i a l environment. He suffers from angst. a lack of b e l i e f i n universal reason. He mistrusts, on the one hand, his inner l i f e , f i n d i n g i t i n s u b s t a n t i a l , or on the other, 17 he dramatizes his s i t u a t i o n into a myth. Thus, though he presents "an i n t e r e s t i n g and touching symbol of the p l i g h t of modern m a n , h e i s not a unique i n d i v i d u a l , f o r he, l i k e the f i c t i o n a l world he inhabits, i s "too transparent," a world "without magic or t e r r o r " or "the e n t i c i n g mystery of the u n k n o w n . H e and his world,.in other words, are not contingent, and therefore, i n her opinion, not s a t i s f a c t o r -i l y rendered. Neither the "journalistic'* nor the " c r y s t a l l i n e " novel f u l f i l l s her i d e a l of f i c t i o n , which i s most f u l l y r e a l i z e d i n the Nineteenth-century novels of the r e a l i s t i c t r a d i t i o n . These novels of characters, which are victims of neither con-vention nor neurosis, are concerned with " r e a l various i n -20 dividuals struggling i n society." There i s , i n them, a p l u r a l i t y of r e a l persons more or less n a t u r a l i s t i c a l l y presented i n a large s o c i a l scene, and representing mutually independent centers of s i g n i f i c a n c e which are those of r e a l individuals . 2 1 The s o c i a l scene i t s e l f i s "a l i f e - g i v i n g framework and not a set of dead conventions or stereotyped* settings inhabited by stock characters."22 These novels reveal t h e i r authors* "display of t o l e r a n c e " ^ 3 which i s "a god-like capacity f o r so respecting and loving t h e i r characters to make them exis t as free and separate beings. " ^ This i s a display of a r e a l apprehension of persons other than the author as having a r i g h t to exist and to have a separate mode of being which i s Important and i n t e r e s t i n g to themselves.25 These characters thus, are not just s o c i a l beings, or s o l i t a r y and s o l i p s i s t l c neurotics, or merely "puppets i n the 5 exteriorization of some cl o s e l y locked psychological c o n f l i c t of .. . (.the authors 0 own."2^ They are " r e a l various i n d i v i d u a l s " because of t h e i r authors* respect, tolerance or love, f o r them. This "love" of an author f o r his char-acters i s explained by John Bayley, I r i s Murdoch's husband, whose view she obviously shares: What I understand by an author's love f o r h i s characters i s a delight i n t h e i r inde-pendent existence as other people, an a t t i -tude towards them which i s anagolous to our fee l i n g s towards those we love i n l i f e ; an intense i n t e r e s t i n t h e i r . p e r s o n a l i t i e s com-bined with a sort of detached s o l i c i t u d e , a respect f o r t h e i r freedom.27 In I r i s Murdoch's opinion, modern no v e l i s t s lack t h i s " d i s -play of tolerance," t h i s love f o r t h e i r characters. This i s the main reason why t h e i r novels do not conform to her i d e a l of f i c t i o n . She does not exempt her own works from t h i s c r i t i c i s m . She says i n an interview i n 19^3 that her novels o s c i l l a t e rather between attempts to portray a l o t of people and giving i n to a powerful p l o t or story ... between achieving a kind of i n t e n s i t y through having a very powerful story and s a c r i f i c i n g characters and having the characters and l o s i n g the intensity.28 This " o s c i l l a t i o n , " she explains In a l a t e r Interview i n 1968, a kind of a l t e r n a t i o n between a sort of closed novel, where my own obsessional f e e l i n g about 6 the novel i s very strong and draws i t c l o s e l y together, and an open novel, where there are more accidental and separate and free char-acters .29 "Open" novels, she explains further, s t a r t with experience. That i s , I st a r t with two or three people i n some kind of s i t u a t i o n ... experience i n some quite ordinary sense and people, without thinking of them as playing any s p e c i a l roles.30 It i s apparent that "open" novels resemble the Nineteenth-century novels of character of which she approves. Of the t h i r t e e n novels I s h a l l discuss i n t h i s t h e s i s , s i x may be considered "open." These are The Sandcastle (1957), The  Nice and the Good (1968), An U n o f f i c i a l Rose (1962), The Red  and the Green (1965), The B e l l (1958), and Under the Net (1954), her f i r s t novel. This l a s t , though properly i n the picaresque mode, has more resemblance to her "open" novels than to the "closed" ones, and f o r the sake of convenience, w i l l be considered with the f i r s t group. The "closed" novel i s i n f a c t , as she says of the " c r y s t a l l i n e " novel, a c l o s e l y - c o i l e d , c a r e f u l l y constructed ob-ject wherein the story rather than the. people i s the important thing, and wherein the story perhaps suggests a p a r t i c u l a r , f a i r l y c l e a r moral.31 Unlike "open'* novels, "closed" novels s t a r t , not with exper-ience, but with an idea. Often at the root of the idea there i s "a kind of r e l i g i o u s or metaphysical conception," 3^ (she gives as examples The Unicorn and The Time of the Angels). Once the idea e x i s t s , a "myth" i s discovered to embody i t , and i n the process of writing, the "myth" becomes the dominant feature "acting as a guide and a spark to the writer*s imag-i n a t i o n , " 3 3 as the Interviewer of that 1968 interview puts i t . I t i s obvious that "myth" has a s p e c i a l meaning i n t h i s context which i s d i f f e r e n t from the conventional one. It refers to the narrative pattern of the novel, or, i n her own words, "the structure of the work i t s e l f , the myth as i t were of the work." 3^ In a "closed" novel, the narrative pattern, structure, "myth," or form, makes the novel into "a s e l f -contained and indeed a s e l f - s a t i s f i e d " 3 - 5 object. This de-scribes not.only the "closed" novel, but the idea of personal-i t y that i s associated with i t , that of " t o t a l i t a r i a n man." Seven of the novels I s h a l l discuss are "closed": The  I t a l i a n G i r l (1964), The Unicorn (1963), The Time of the  Angels (1966), The F l i g h t from the Enchanter (1955), A Severed Head ( I 9 6 I ) , Bruno's Dream ( I 9 6 9 ) , and A F a i r l y  Honourable Defeat (1970). These novels are t i g h t l y con-structed, c o n s i s t i n g of, as one c r i t i c says of A Severed  Head, which i s a t y p i c a l "closed" novel, c a r e f u l l y wrought 8 "patterns ... a r t i f i c e s ... coincidences and arrangement." 3^ It i s not s u r p r i s i n g , i n view of her approval of Nine-teenth-century novels, that I r i s Murdoch prefers to write "open" novels. She states her l i t e r a r y aim i n the 1968 i n -terview thus i I would l i k e to be thought of as a r e a l i s t i c writer, i n the sense In which good English n o v e l i s t s have been r e a l i s t s i n the past. I want to talk about ordinary l i f e and what things are l i k e and people are. l i k e and so on, and to create characters who are r e a l , free characters. 37 This does not suggest, however, that she wishes to make the "myth" of the novel subordinate to the characters. For she says that a novel, l i k e a l l a r t , must have form. Her aim i s to harmonize form and the free development of characters, or as she puts i t , to achieve a kind of "synthesis between people and myth."38 A novel, she says: must be a house f i t for free characters to l i v e i n ; and to combine form with a respect f o r r e a l i t y with a l l i t s odd contingent ways i s the highest art of prose.39 This synthesis, though, i s not easy to achieve. Modern n o v e l i s t s , i n her opinion, have a tendency to y i e l d too • r e a d i l y to form. She includes herself i n t h i s statement. In the 1968 interview she says; 9 What I f e e l my work needs, what makes It less good i s that I'm not able to present characters with enough depth and o r d i n a r i -ness, and accldentalness. This has always been a problem f o r me my characters get cramped by my s t o r y . k l C r i t i c s tend to agree with her own modest evaluation of her works. Their opinions veer towards two extremes. One set considers her characters mere puppets whose sole function i s to further the p l o t . For t h i s reason, they do not evoke empathy from the readers. ^ Another set of opinions regards her characters as "comic grotesques, rt"+3 who are too eccentric so that they are without a "centre of self,""*"* that i s , some explicable pattern of behaviour. The f i r s t set of opinions may have some j u s t i f i c a t i o n when applied to a few of the characters i n some of her "closed" novels, f o r example, David and Elsa i n The I t a l i a n G i r l . I f , according to the second set of opinions, her characters are too eccentric, i t i s be-cause she has given them an independent existence. For, she says, when one has the p r i v i l e g e of knowing one's friends Le. more intimately, one learns that people are eccentric. J Thus, she has created her eccentric characters with love, and has displayed that tolerance which she says only the great n o v e l i s t s possess. There i s a remarkable s i m i l a r i t y between her l i t e r a r y theory and her e t h i c a l views. This i s not s u r p r i s i n g , f o r 10 she says that art (this Includes a l l the a r t s , and not only l i t e r a t u r e ) and morals are one; " t h e i r essence i s the same. The essence of both i s l o v e . " ^ The process of love requires a d e n i a l of s e l f , i n order to perceive others o b j e c t i v e l y . Love i s "an absence of s e l f , " the "non-violent apprehension of difference between oneself and others. It i s "an exercise of j u s t i c e and realism and r e a l l y looking."^8 In so "looking," one apprehends r e a l i t y , the "loving respect f o r a r e a l i t y other than oneself."^9 This idea of love i s quite contrary to her view of both courtly and romantic love i n which the lover, instead of f o r g e t t i n g his own psychological p e c u l i a r i t i e s , imposes them on the loved object. He does not apprehend the r e a l i t y of the other's existence, but i d e a l i z e s her or him. An example i s Effingham Cooper's love f o r Hannah Crean-Smith i n The  Unicorn, i n which he thinks of her as his "Castle P e r i l o u s , " his "Beatrice," a "belle dame sans mercl." "an image of God," "a doomed f i g u r e , " "a L i l i t h , " "a pale death-dealing enchant-ress: anything but a human being."^Q (My emphasis). This i s the crux of I r i s Murdoch's c r i t i c i s m of courtly love, and i t Is equally applicable to romantic love: the lover does not see the loved object as a r e a l , free human being, unique and contingent, but as an idea of his own making. In I r i s Murdoch's s e l f - f o r g e t t i n g ethics of love, when 11 one i s able to perceive a r e a l i t y outside oneself, one exper-iences "a release of the s p i r i t , " ^ ! an enlargement and en-richment of one's own personality. This i s freedom. Freedom comes as a r e s u l t of "the d i s c i p l i n e d overcoming of s e l f . " ^ 2 Freedom, as well as love, i s a v i r t u e , f o r goodness i s the "attempt to pierce the v e i l of s e l f i s h consciousness and j o i n the world as i t r e a l l y is. "53 The world as i t r e a l l y i s i s "complicated," f u l l of t e r r o r , mystery and formless-ness. It i s contingent. Goodness i s therefore an acceptance of t h i s contingency i n the world and i n other people. The s e l f - e f f a c i n g nature of her ethics i s opposite to that expressed i n most modern f i c t i o n , which emphasizes the s e l f . Her c r i t i c i s m of Sartre and Freud, the two important Influences, i n her opinion, i n modern novels, i s applicable to much of modern f i c t i o n i t s e l f . Sartre and Freud, she says, see l i f e as an "egocentric drama,"5^ and man " s t i l l at the stage of thinking perpetually of himself. " ^ 5 Because of t h i s , he cannot, i n her sense, love others. Thus he forms re l a t i o n s h i p s with others that are "instances of imperfect sympathies. "5° For the Sartrean mart, love i s "an a s s e r t i o n of self, " 5 7 a demand by one to be adored by the other. This Idea of love, she says, represents "a b a t t l e between two hypnotists i n a closed room,"5® each seeking to enslave the other. 12 This view of human relationships unfortunately re-f l e c t s , i n her opinion, situations i n l i f e where loving i s more often than not "an assertion of self. " 5 9 This i s be-cause man i s b a s i c a l l y s e l f i s h , possessed of a psyche that i s " r e l e n t l e s s l y looking a f t e r i t s e l f . " ^ 0 Its chief pre-occupation i s to protect i t s e l f from pain, and t h i s i t does by not facing unpleasant r e a l i t i e s , such as contingency. Thus, i t seeks consolation i n daydreaming. It views the world, not through a transparent glass, but through "a cloud of more or less f a n t a s t i c reverie designed to protect the psyche from p a i n . " ^ 1 It i s d i f f i c u l t to form loving r e -lationships with others, f o r we cannot see them because we are completely enclosed In a fantasy world of our own into which we try to draw things from outside, not grasping t h e i r r e a l i t y and Independence, making them into dream objects of our own.°2 In the discussion of her f i c t i o n that follows, the people "enclosed i n a fantasy world" w i l l be c a l l e d the en-chanted, and the "dream objects" the enchanters. .She uses the term "enchanter" herself i n her second novel, The F l i g h t  from the Enchanter, to describe just such an object of others 1 fantasy, Mischa Fox. Though the enchanted have the tendency to fantasize about the enchanters, a t t r i b u t i n g to the enchanters q u a l i t i e s that they may or may not possess, 13 and generally consider the enchanters to be superior people to themselves, there are also characters who do possess un-usual q u a l i t i e s or a b i l i t i e s that make them natural objects of others' fantasy. She speaks of t h i s i n an interview i I think ... that there i s a great deal of spare energy racing around, which very often ... focuses a s i t u a t i o n and makes a person play a commanding r o l e . People are often looking f o r a god or ready to cast somebody i n the role of a demon .... I think people possessed of t h i s kind of energy do come i n and generate s i t u a t i o n s . One's seen i t happen i n l i f e . But then too, there are always victims ready to step forward.°3 People with t h i s "spare energy," are often natural leaders, active people who i n i t i a t e things and "generate s i t u a t i o n s . " Their excessive energy i s often translated by the enchanted, who are generally passive themselves, into charisma, a charm that makes the enchanters a t t r a c t others. In seach of her novels, there i s one character who i s regarded as someone s p e c i a l by others. This person may be male or female, young or old, and may or may not possess that "spare energy" that generates s i t u a t i o n s . He may also be an exponent of I r i s Murdoch's philosophy, as are Bledyard i n The Sandcastle. the Abbess i n The B e l l . Hugo Belfounder i n Under the Net. John Ducane i n The Nice and the Good, or Nigel Boas i n Bruno's Dream. This character i s the enchanter figure and there i s always, i n his d e s c r i p t i o n , an extra 1 4 mythical dimension myth i s here used i n the conventional sense. He i s seen on one l e v e l as a person i n a set of c i r -cumstances, and on another l e v e l as an a l l e g o r i c a l f i g u r e . The enchanter figures i n the t h i r t e e n novels are of two types, the " o r d i n a r y a n d the "exotic." The "ordinary" enchanters, Bledyard, Ducane, Emma Sands (An U n o f f i c i a l Rose) and M i l l i e Kinnard (The Red and the Green) are not conspic-uous as enchanter f i g u r e s . They appear to. be p e r f e c t l y or-dinary people with what A.S. Byatt c a l l s " c a r e f u l l y placed backgrounds of n o r m a l i t y , " ^ f o r they are very much rooted i n the society which they inhabit. In appearance and behav-iour they also seem ordinary. They do not possess obvious symbols of power such as great wealth or i n f l u e n t i a l positions or exceptional I n t e l l e c t s . Beneath the seemingly normal sur-face, however, the "ordinary" enchanters' are invested- with s p e c i a l q u a l i t i e s . Some, l i k e Emma and Bledyard, have keen i n s i g h t s ; they are able to perceive the i l l u s i o n s other people weave around themselves. This i l l u s i o n - b r e a k i n g q u a l i t y however, i s not necessarily the reason f o r which others/regard them as enchanters. Rather, t h e i r power as. enchanters rests i n other people's b e l i e f , r e a l or imaginary, that they are able to s a t i s f y others' emotional needs. The "ordinary" enchanters occasionally behave i n a most unusual manner; examples are Ducane's p a r t i c i p a t i o n 15 i n a "black mass" and M i l l i e ' s attempt to seduce a young nephew. Such strange acts are usually committed i n secret, and known, i f at a l l , at least i n i t i a l l y , to only a few. These acts are also i s o l a t e d incidents rather than part of a generally strange behaviour pattern, so that on the whole, to others, these enchanters appear to be normal people who lead ordinary l i v e s . The mythical dimensions i n the characterizations of the "ordinary" enchanters are often very subtly revealed. Bledyard, f o r example, has a unique c h a r a c t e r i s t i c , an Impediment i n his speech which he had pa r t l y overcome by the expedient of repeat-ing some words twice as he talked. This he did with a sort of slow d e l i b e r a t i o n which made his utterances ludicrous."5 This r e p e t i t i o n of c e r t a i n words Is seen when he says to Rain: W I am a great admirer admirer of your.father's work" (p. 73)» and when expounding his theory of a r t : " It i s a fact-..', that we cannot r e a l l y observe r e a l l y observe our betters ..." (p. 77). This speech Impediment i s , on one l e v e l , an ordinary surface f a c t i n the de s c r i p t i o n of Bled-yard. Viewed on another l e v e l , however, i t has a mythic context and suggests that Bledyard i s a human oracle, an "Incarnate human god"°^ who speaks with the voice of god. On t h i s mythic l e v e l , Bledyard's role takes on another 16 dimension. He becomes a prophet. S i m i l a r l y , Emma Sands i s frequently compared with snakes. She s i t s "curled l i k e a snake i n a hole,"^7 and speaks with a "viperous s a t i s -f a c t i o n " (p. 96) to Hugh. On one l e v e l , these images de-scribe Emma's appearance and mannerism. On another, they 68 evoke the pythian myths, and Emma's r o l e , l i k e Bledyard's, takes on a mythic dimension. She i s a l l e g o r l c a l l y the pythian p r i e s t e s s , who, again l i k e Bledyard, i s a truth-speaker, a prophetess. The "exotic" enchanters, the Abbess, Hugo Belfounder, Maggie (The I t a l i a n G i r l ) . Hannah Grean-Smlth, Carei Fisher (The Time of the Angels), Mischa Fox (The F l i g h t from the  Enchanter), Honor K l e i n (A Severed Head). Nigel Boas (Bruno's Dream), and J u l i u s King (A F a i r l y Honourable Defeat), are immediately recognizable as enchanter figures f o r several reasons. They are mysterious. Mischa's obscure ori g i n s and the vague c e n t r a l European backgrounds of Hugo and J u l i u s contribute to t h e i r mystique. They behave strangely, almost a l l the time, as Hannah, Carel and Nigel do. They are assoc-iated with obvious symbols of power, such as great wealth and what are generally considered, as glamorous occupations. Hugo, Mischa and J u l i u s , f o r example, are fabulously r i c h , Hugo i s a f i l m producer, Mischa owns a chain of newspapers and J u l i u s i s a renowned s c i e n t i s t . The "exotic" enchanters may also have exceptional i n t e l l e c t s which others hold i n awe. Honor, f o r example, i s considered by others to have su p e r - I n t e l l e c t u a l power, one of the reasons why they fear her. Most important of a l l , the mythical dimensions i n t h e i r characterizations are presented usually i n a f a i r l y e x p l i c i t manner. Honor, f o r example, i s referred to d i r -e c t l y as "the severed head," and "a Medusa," a l l u s i o n s to the Medusa myth which i s c e n t r a l to A Severed Head. The enchanter f i g u r e s , as well as playing a role i n the plot and theme of the novels i n which they appear, have another important function. They are the lenses, so to speak, through which one sees two le v e l s of r e a l i t y i n the novels.^9 one i s normal r e a l i t y , i n which things are as they appear on the surface. The other i s symbolic r e a l i t y i n which surface facts have another, a l l e g o r i c a l s i g n i f i c a n c e . For example, the vaults i n The Nice and the Good are, on the l e v e l of normal r e a l i t y , old bomb sh e l t e r s . On the symbolic l e v e l , however, they represent the underworld. In a l l except four of the novels discussed here, the l e v e l of normal r e a l i t y i s the world of form, which i s created by man, and the sym-b o l i c l e v e l the contingent world, which i s dark, mysterious, and usually beyond man's c o n t r o l . The four exceptions are Under the Net. The Unicorn. The Time of the Angels and The  F l i g h t from the Enchanter. The reverse i s true i n these 18 novels i n which normal r e a l i t y i s the contingent world and. symbolic r e a l i t y the world of form. The two l e v e l s of r e a l i t y , which are usually represented i n the novels by d i f f e r e n t p h y s i c a l settings, are described i n terms of Imagery, a l l u s i o n s and references to myth, c e r t a i n patterns of events, and the s h i f t i n g of characters, p a r t i c u l a r l y the enchanter f i g u r e s , from one l o c a t i o n to another. The en-chanter figures e x i s t on both l e v e l s , on the normal l e v e l as people and on the symbolic l e v e l as a l l e g o r i c a l f i g u r e s . The method I r i s Murdoch employs i n presenting them on the d i f f e r e n t l e v e l s varies with the novels, not only, as one might expect, between "open" and "closed" novels, but also within the two kinds. In the remaining chapters of t h i s t h e s i s , I s h a l l ex-amine these various techniques. Chapter Two w i l l consider, i n three sections, the enchanter figures i n the "open" novels. In Section I, I s h a l l discuss Bledyard and Ducane, who are presented i n a s i m i l a r manner i n The Sandcastle and The Nice and the Good. They are seen, f i r s t i n one s e t t i n g i n which they are simply people, then i n another i n which they are a l l e g o r i c a l f i g u r e s . A d i f f e r e n t technique i s used i n the descriptions of Emma Sands and M i l l i e Kinnard, whom I s h a l l discuss i n Section I I . These two enchanter figures i n An U n o f f i c i a l Rose and The Red and the Green 19 are often seen as both people and a l l e g o r i c a l figures at the same time, rather than a l t e r n a t e l y as one or the other. Section I I I examines the Abbess and Hugo Belfounder, f o r they are both "exotic" enchanters i n "open" novels, although I r i s Murdoch employs quite d i f f e r e n t techniques i n presenting them. In The B e l l , the Abbess i s never seen outside the Abbey, i n f a c t , not outside the confessional booth, and then only by Michael, while i n Under the Net, Hugo appears i n a large number of places which symbolize both the world of form and the contingent world. Another kind of grouping occurs i n Chapter Three which examines the enchanter figures i n "closed" novels. Here the basis of comparison of the three sections i s the extent of remoteness of s e t t i n g i n the novels. The worlds of The  I t a l i a n G i r l . The Unicorn and The Time of the Angels, f o r e example, appear to be completely i s o l a t e d , with no connection with a larger society outside. Section I of t h i s chapter w i l l discuss Maggie, Hannah Crean-Smith and Carel Fisher i n t h e i r i s o l a t e d , remote environments. In Section I I , I s h a l l discuss Mischa Fox and Honor K l e i n , f o r both The F l i g h t from  the Enchanter and A Severed Head are set i n an environment that has some l i n k with the world outside the novels.' A f i n a l section analyzes Nigel Boas and J u l i u s King who appear i n the l a t e s t of the novels discussed here, Bruno's Dream 20 and A F a i r l y Honourable Defeat. These two novels are set very much i n a larger society, that of London. The tech-nique I r i s Murdoch uses i n presenting these two enchanter figures are also a l i k e . Like Emma and M i l l i e , Nigel and J u l i u s are often seen simultaneously as people and as a l l e g o r -i c a l f i g u r e s , providing the reader with a kind of "double v i s i o n " " ^ of the two le v e l s of r e a l i t y . In Chapter Four, I s h a l l attempt to draw and state some conclusions about these techniques. 21 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER ONE 1 " A g a i n s t Dryness," Encounter, 16, no. 88 (January, 1961), 16-20, "The Sublime and the B e a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , " Y a l e Review. 49 (Winter, i960), 247-271. 2 " A g a l n s t Dryness," 16. 3«The Sublime and the B e a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , " 255. k I b l d . . 254. ^ " A g a i n s t Dryness," 17. 6"The Sublime and the B e a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , " 254. ? I b l d . , 255. 8 I b l d . , 254. ^••Against Dryness," 18. 1 0 " T h e Sublime and the B e a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , " 255. 1 1 " A g a i n s t Dryness," 20. 1 2 I b i d . . 20. 13»The Sublime and the B e a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , 271. - ^ " A g a i n s t Dryness," 18. 1 5 MThe Sublime and the B e a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , " 264. l 6 I b l d . , 264. 1 7 l b l d . . 255. 1 8 I r ± s Murdoch, "The E x i s t e n t i a l i s t Hero," The L i s t e n e r . 43 (March 23, 1950), 524. 1 9 l b l d . . 524. . • ". " : ' 2 0 " A g a i n s t Dryness," 18. 2 1 " T h e Sublime and the B e a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , " 257. 22 ""The Sublime and the Be a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , " 257. 2 3 l b l d . . 257. 2 ^ I b l d . , 267. 2 5 i b i d . , 257. 2 6 I b i d . , 257. 27The Character of Love: A Study i n the Lite r a t u r e of  Personality (New York: . C o l l i e r Books, 1963), p. 15. 2^Frank Kermode, "The House of F i c t i o n . " Partisan Review, 30 (Spring, 1963), 64. 29 W .K. Rose, " I r i s Murdoch, informally," London Magazine. 8 (June, 1968), 66. 30lbld.. 65-66. 3lKermode, "The House of F i c t i o n , " 63. •32Rose. " I r i s Murdoch, informally," 66. 33rbld., 65. 3^Kermode, "The House of F i c t i o n , " 64. 35«Against Dryness," 20. 3 6 G r a h a m Martin, " I r i s Murdoch and the Symbolist Novel," B r i t i s h Journal of Aesthetics. 5 (July, 1965), 298. 3 7R 0se, " I r i s Murdoch, informally," 65. 38Kermode, "The House of F i c t i o n , " 64. 39«The Sublime and the B e a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , " 271. 4°Ibld., 271. ^Rose, " I r i s Murdoch, informally," 65. 42 Among t h i s f i r s t group are James H a l l , The Lunatic  Giant In the Drawing Room. (Bloomington« Indiana University, 1968), pp. 181-212, William Van O'Connor, " I r i s Murdoch: 23 A Severed Head," C r i t i q u e : Studies i n Modern F i c t i o n . 5 (1962), 74-77, Marvin Felheira, "Symbolic Characterisation . i n the Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Texas Studies i n Language  and L i t e r a t u r e . 2 (Summer, i 9 6 0 ) , 189-197, Christopher Ricks, "A Sort of Mystery Novel," New Statesman. 70 (October 22, 1965), 604-605, and Hena Maes-Jelinek, "A House f o r Free Characters," Revue des Langues Vlvantes. 29 (1963), 45-69-^ W i l l i a m Van O'Connor, "The Formal and the Contingent," i n The New University Wits (Carbondale, S. 111.: Southern I l l i n o i s University Press), p. 69. "^Linda Kuehl, " I r i s Murdoch: The Novelist as Magician / The Magician as A r t i s t , " Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, 1969), 347-360. ^ R u t h Lake Heyd, "An Interview with I r i s Murdoch," University of Windsor Review. 1 (Spring, 1965), 143. 4 6"The Sublime and the Good." Chicago Review. 13, no.. 3 (Autumn, 1959), 51. " ^ I b i d . , 54. 48.1-phe Sovereignty of Good Over Other Concepts," The  Sovereignty of Good (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1970), p. 91. ^"The Sublime and the Good," 54. Unicorn (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1966), p. 268. A l l subsequent references are to t h i s e d i t i o n . •5*Heyd, "An Interview with I r i s Murdoch," 139. •52"The Sovereignty of Good Over Other Concepts," p. 95. 53lbid., p. 93. " • ^ I r i s Murdoch, Sartre. Romantic R a t i o n a l i s t (New Haven*: Yale University Press, 1959), p. 90. 5 ^ I b l d . . p. 99. 5 pIbld.. p. 51. 57«The Sovereignty of Good Over Other Concepts," p. 79. 24 Sartre. Romantic R a t i o n a l i s t , p. 96. 59"The Sovereignty of Good Over Other Concepts," p. 79. 6 o I b l d . , p. 78. 6 l I b i d . , p. 79. 62 Mn 'The Sublime and the Good," 52. I 64 ^ 3Rose, " I r i s Murdoch, informally," 68. Degrees of Freedom. The Novels of I r i s Murdoch (London : Chatto and Windus, .1965), p. 147. ! — ^The Sandcastle (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., i960), p. 71• A l l subsequent references are to t h i s e d i t i o n . ^ S i r James Frazer i n The Golden Bough (abridged e d i t i o n , London: Macmillan Press Ltd., 1971), pp. 119-139, describes the temporary incarnation of gods i n human forms, during which the person who reveals the voice of god makes wild gestures and i n d i s t i n c t sounds. ^7An U n o f f i c i a l Rose (Harmondsworth:' Penguin Books Ltd., 1967), P• 96. A l l subsequent references are to t h i s e d i t i o n . 68 The snake imagery i s relevant to Emma's role as prophet-ess. It alludes to the pythian myths i n which the pythian priestess drinks the fumes of prophecy as described i n Robert Graves' The Greek Myths (2 vols., Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1955), I, p. 178. 69This idea of the double r e a l i t i e s i s discussed i n d e t a i l i n William F. Hall's "Bruno's Dream; Technique and Meaning i n the Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, 1969), 429-443. 7°Ibid., 435. J CHAPTER TWO THE ENCHANTER FIGURE IN "OPEN'1 NOVELS I. Bledyard and Ducane In The Sandcastle and The Nice and the Good, the en-chanter figure i s presented i n a f a i r l y d i r e c t manner. The two l e v e l s of r e a l i t y i n these novels are quite d i s t i n c t l y symbolized by p a r t i c u l a r locations and the enchanter figure's movements from one place to another s i g n i f y a d e f i n i t e change of r o l e s . The role-changing however, i s not abrupt, f o r each enchanter possesses a personal t r a i t that i s a clue to his a l l e g o r i c a l role and which serves as a l i n k between his two ro l e s , as ordinary person and a l l e g o r i c a l f i g u r e . In Bled-yard, as I have mentioned i n Chapter One, i t i s his stammer, a human c h a r a c t e r i s t i c that has a l l e g o r i c a l implications. In Ducane, i t i s his lefthandedness, which suggests that he has magical powers and that he i s a magician on another l e v e l of r e a l i t y . In The Sandcastle, the two l e v e l s of r e a l i t y are symbol-ized by places i n sharp contrast with one another. The world of form, as always i n the novels of I r i s Murdoch, i s created by man, and i s seen as confining. This world Is represented by the housing estate where Mor l i v e s and by St. Bride's 25 26 School where he teaches. The housing estate i s "a sprawling conglomeration of bright red boxes'* (p. 158) which are neat, serai-detached houses that face each other l i k e mirror images. The school consists of a number of buildings grouped around a large square of asphalt (presumably precise i n measure-ments). Its function, as well as i t s exact physical shape, represents form, for i t i s a man-made system which operates according to a s p e c i f i c set of man-made ru l e s . Its purpose i s to dispense knowledge i n a systematic manner to a d e f i n i t e number of young minds. Both the housing estate and the school are r e s u l t s of man's attempt to make something, whether a r c h i t e c t u r a l or human, into a shape. : The contingent world, by contrast, i s dark, cool and mysterious, almost magical i n atmosphere. I t i s symbolized by Demoyte's garden and by the wood bordering the school, both places s i g n i f i c a n t l y outdoor, outside of man-created, r e s t r i c t i n g b u i l d i n g s . The almost magical qu a l i t y of t h i s world i s seen on the night Mor and Rain enter the garden. It i s cool and dark, "strange, pregnant with trees and bushes open to the dew and the s t a r s " (p. 3^). In i t , Mor f e e l s alarmed. His experience i n the wood i s s i m i l a r . D r i v i n g , through i t s entrance with Rain, he f e e l s that i t i s l i k e an "enchantment": 27 It was as i f since they had passed the white gate they had entered another world. The s p i r i t of the wood pressed upon them, and Mor found himself looking from side to side expecting to see something strange (p. 87). The contrast between form and contingency i s drama-t i z e d by Mor's c o n f l i c t on the day of the House match, when he i s torn between the two* He looked across the f i e l d where the housing estate lay spread out along the f a r boundary .... He looked back over his shoulder to-wards the wood. It looked cool and dark. Mor wondered i f he could decently escape and decided that he couldn't (p. 158). His dilemma s i g n i f i e s a larger c o n f l i c t : to stay, with his wife i n the dry world of the housing estate, or to go o f f with Rain (whose name, i n c i d e n t a l l y , i s an obvious symbolic contrast with the dry world) to her contingent «world. A s i m i l a r contrast between the two worlds i s seen i n The Nice and the Good, where the world of form i s structured and we11-shaped, and the contingent world mysterious and un-predictable. Form i s symbolized by two places, Whitehall and Trescombe i n Dorset. Whitehall, l i k e St. Bride's School, represents a system erected.by man. More than the school, Whitehall suggests bureaucracy, hierarchy, and patterns. Patterned also i s Dorset i t s e l f , which i s described as round: Everything i n Dorset i s round .... The l i t t l e h i l l s are round, these bricks are round, the yew trees that grow i n the hedgerows are round, the veronica bus,hes, the catalpa tree, the crowns of the acacia, the pebbles on the beach, the clump of small bamboos beside that a r c h . l Unlike the school or Whitehall however, t h i s world of form suggests an Ideal balance, for i t i s a natural rather than man-made phenomenon. In t h i s n a t u r a l l y harmonious world of Dorset, Kate and Octavian create t h e i r own a r t i f i c i a l world of form i n t h e i r home Trescombe. Theirs i s a "big golden round world" (p. 138). "Gold," i n I r i s Murdoch's scheme of things, i s subject to suspicion, f o r i t symbolizes i l l u s i o n , and suggests, as well, moral ambiguity. Many of her morally ambiguous characters are described i n golden Imagery, among them Antonla (A Severed Head). Hannah Crean-Smith (The  Unicorn). Lindsay Rimmer (An U n o f f i c i a l Rose), and here Kate. She, along with her husband Octavian, are also round. She has a "bright round face" (p. 18) which i s constantly'beaming out of the "golden" and "fuzzy b a l l " (p. 20) of her ha i r . Octavian i s f i t t i n g l y named - — his brother Theo c a l l s him "that perfect 0" (p. 130), f o r he i s f a t and has a "big sp h e r i c a l bald head" (p. 20). Like Dorset, they too appear t o Ducane, i n his enchantment with them,, to be "just the ri g h t s i z e " (p. 47). 29 Unlike the contingent places In The Sandcastle. which are s i m i l a r to each other i n that they both evoke a magical atmosphere, the two places that symbolize the con-tingent world here are moral opposites. One represents e v i l , the other good. The vaults beneath Whitehall, with i t s mazes of co r r i d o r s , darkness and s t i f l i n g a i r , i s e v i l because i t i s the domain of Radeechy, s e l f - s t y l e d L u c i f e r , who used i t f o r the practice of black magic. Entrance to i t i s l i k e "the entrance to an ancient sepulchre" (p. 217), f o r i t i s a place of death. There are rats and corpses of pigeons that Radeechy s a c r i f i c e d i n his black magic, cobwebs i n profusion, slimy steps. The sharp angles of descent of the steps remind Ducane of kings' tombs he had v i s i t e d i n Greece and Egypt. Most repellent of a l l i s a suffocating smell which causes him to experience dizziness and faintness. A quite d i f f e r e n t place i s Gunnar's cave, which i s also dark and mysterious, but i t i s a natural creation, uncorrupted by man's e v i l deeds. Though the a i r i s odoriferous, i t Is not caused by decaying bodies, but by vegetation from the sea. I t i s a place of b i r t h , not death, f o r there i s present water, the source of l i f e as well as cleansing agent f o r man's body and symbolically, f o r his s p i r i t . Though each of the two l e v e l s of r e a l i t y i n The Sand-c a s t l e i s symbolized by a place, Bledyard i s seen i n only 30 one place i n each world. In t h i s sense, he i s more simply-presented than Ducane. For he i s a minor character who appears indoors only at the school or at Demoyte's house, and outdoor i n the wood. He does not appear i n Hor's home nor i n the garden. As a character In the world of form, Bledyard i s "placed" not only as a master at St. Bride's School, "but also as a member of an e l i t e group, having gone to a public school with the prominent governors of St. Bride's. In appearance, Mor thinks that he would be handsome i f he did not look so odd i He had a great head of dark hair which was pe r f e c t l y straight and worn a l i t t l e long. I t soughed to and fro as he moved and talked. He had a. large moon-like face and a b u l l neck, b i g luminous eyes l i k e a night creature, and a coarse nose. His mouth was formless and sometimes hung open. His teeth were good, but were usually concealed behind the massy f l e s h of his l i p s . He r a r e l y smiled (p. 71). This p o r t r a i t , as Howard German points out, resembles Boswell's 2 d e s c r i p t i o n of Samuel Johnson. This resemblance.is s i g n i f -i c ant, f o r Johnson, as the epitome of Eighteenth-century rationalism, represents values that are i n d i r e c t opposition to those of romanticism. Bledyard, as an advocate of r e a l i s -t i c values who practices a s e l f - e f f a c i n g , objective philosophy, Is also anti-romantic. His theory of art reveals best his 31 philosophy. The painter's task, he says, must be approached with humility: 'When confronted with an object which i s not a human being we must of course treat i t reverently. We must, i f we paint i t , attempt to show what i t i s l i k e In i t s e l f , and not treat i t as a symbol of our own moods and wishes. The great painter ... i s he who i s humble enough i n the presence of the object to attempt merely to show what the object i s l i k e . But t h i s merely, i n painting, i s everything' (p. 76). The same p r i n c i p l e applies to p o r t r a i t painting, but i t i s an impracticable p r i n c i p l e . For, he says: •Who i s worthy to understand another person? ... Upon an ordinary material thing we can look with reverence, wondering simply at i t s being. But when we look upon a human face, . we in t e r p r e t i t by what we are ourselves. And what are we?' (p. 77)• Since i t i s impossible to look reverently enough upon another human face, Bledyard has given up p o r t r a i t painting. If Bledyard's theory of art seems f a m i l i a r , i t i s not sur p r i s i n g , f o r i t i s a paraphrase of I r i s Murdoch's l i t e r a r y theory. Bledyard's b e l i e f that a painter must show o b j e c t i v -i t y , and not treat the object as a symbol or extension of his own moods and wishes, echoes I r i s Murdoch's b e l i e f that a n o v e l i s t must attempt to portray free characters who exis t independently, and who are not symbols of his own psychological 32 c o n f l i c t s . ^ Great a r t i s t s , whether no v e l i s t s or painters, must be s e l f - e f f a c i n g , f o r a r t , she says, " i s not an ex-pression of personality, i t i s a question rather of the L continual e xpelling of oneself from the matter i n hand." Bledyard*s b e l i e f i n o b l i t e r a t i n g his own personality when perceiving others i s consistent with his t o t a l lack of self-consciousness. Unlike most people, he i s not concerned with projecting a p a r t i c u l a r kind of image of himself. In his behaviour, he i s not governed by the need to conform to s o c i a l l y acceptable manners. For example, at Evvy's dinner party, he i s unmindful of conventional s o c i a l customs: he does not p a r t i c i p a t e i n small t a l k , but s i t s at his ease saying nothing, abstracted from the scene, as i f he were a diner at a restaurant who had by accident to share a table with three complete stran-gers. He got on with his meal (p. 7 2 ) . S i m i l a r l y , at his art lecture, when his audience i s reduced to h y s t e r i c a l laughter, brought on-in part by his speech im-pediment, he remains un r u f f l e d . Unmoved by embarrassment, he i s unconcerned at being the object of laughter, intent only on pursuing his subject matter. His lack of self-consciousness i s symbolized by his lack of a f i r s t name, and by the bareness of his room. Name i s i d e n t i t y , from which one derives one's sense of s e l f , or 33 ego, i f one wishes to c a l l i t that. The bare room, with no colours and no pict u r e s , r e f l e c t s his desire not to impose his personality on anything. Taste, a f t e r a l l , i s s e l f -expression. His lack: of self-involvement also r e s u l t s i n a genuine concern f o r others. This i s seen i n his compassionate r e -sponse to Rain's d i s t r e s s . At the same dinner party, where he s i t s i n s i l e n c e , Rain r e c a l l s her childhood and the recent death of her father. The memory prompts tears. Evvy and Mor are at a loss f o r words. Bledyard, however, stops eating, and throws down knife and fork to say that he i s an admirer of her father's works. This not only consoles Rain, but also i r o n i c a l l y —•- i r o n i c a l l y because Bledyard i s ch a r a c t e r i s -t i c a l l y unconcerned about the s u p e r f i c i a l i t i e s of s o c i a l conventions saves an embarrassing s o c i a l s i t u a t i o n . This s e n s i t i v i t y to other's feelings reveals his a b i l i t y to see other people, i n I r i s Murdoch's sense, and thus to love them. Other people recognize t h i s q u a l i t y of compassion i n him, f o r they regard him as someone s p e c i a l . Demoyte, who tole r a t e s very few people, respects him, and considers him "undoubtedly a man" (p. 72). Mor agrees with t h i s t "There was something exceedingly r e a l about him. He made Evvy seem flimsy by comparison, a sort of f i c t i o n " (p. 72). Mor values his good opinion, and i s wounded when treated coldly by him. 34 Rain admires his work, i s anxious f o r his judgement of her p o r t r a i t of- Demoyte, and accepts his c r i t i c i s m earnestly. She accepts also his advice to leave Mor, for she recog-nizes his a b i l i t y to see the r e a l i t y of the s i t u a t i o n . Bledyard's lack of self-involvement i s also an i n d i c a t i o n that he i s a free man (freedom i s "the d i s c i p l i n e d overcoming of s e l f ) . He says to Mor, again paraphrasing I r i s Murdoch: " r e a l freedom i s the t o t a l absence of concern about yo u r s e l f " (pp. 213-214). As freedom i s "concerned with r e a l l y appre-hending that other people exist .... Freedom i s knowing and understanding and respecting things quite other than our-selves, "5 and as t h i s knowledge "connects us ... with r e a l i t y , Bledyard, being free, i s also able to perceive r e a l i t y . He sees Mor's love f o r Rain as romantic love, and therefore as a form of fantasy. Consequently, he t e l l s Mor: 'There'is such a thing as respect f o r r e a l i t y . You are l i v i n g on dreams now, dreams of happi-ness, dreams of freedom. But i n a l l t h i s you consider only yourself. You do not t r u l y apprehend the d i s t i n c t being of either your wife or Miss Carter' (p. 213). That t h i s l a s t statement i s true i s confirmed by Demoyte's e a r l i e r speech to Mor: "I just wonder whether you can r e a l l y see her (Rain)" (p. 110). In I r i s Murdoch's world, seeing i s the prerequisite to love. Mor therefore does not r e a l l y 35 love Rain. She represents to him only an escape from his dreary marriage. His marriage, however, i s a r e a l i t y . As Bledyard says to him pr o p h e t i c a l l y , 'You are deeply bound to your wife and to your children, and deeply rooted i n your own l i f e . Perhaps that l i f e ... w i l l hold you i n spi t e of yourself. But i f you break ... these bonds you destroy a part of the world* (p. 212). This does not imply, however, as A.S. Byatt suggests, that conventional morality i s the ultimate value In I r i s Murdoch's 7 world: only that i n t h i s p a r t i c u l a r instance, i t i s synonymous with, r e a l i t y , as represented by Mor's family. Bledyard i s thus cautioning Mor against l o s i n g sight of that r e a l i t y by going away with Rain. It i s t y p i c a l of Bledyard, and a manifestation of his freedom, that he does not shrink from i n t e r f e r i n g i n the a f f a i r s of others, when he f e e l s i t his duty to do so, no matter how reluctant he may be. Af t e r he has sent Rain away, he faces Mor's.wrath. Mor accuses him of i n t e r f e r i n g and of presuming to judge. He r e p l i e s : •Sometimes ... i t i s unavoidably our duty to attempt ... some sort of judgement - and then the suspension of judgement i s not charity but the fear of being judged In return' (pp. 2 1 1 - 2 1 2 ) . 36 Not being concerned with others' good opinion of him, he i s not a f r a i d to r i s k his reputation by doing what he considers his moral duty. Far from being a morally ambiguous character who i s a 8 "lonely, unhappy man" as.Peter Wolfe considers him, Bledyard, as I r i s Murdoch's spokesman and p r a c t i t i o n e r of her e t h i c s , represents goodness. He i s not sentimentalized however, fo r he i s presented as an object of comedy with a speech impediment that makes him human as well as making a l l his speeches l u d i -crously funny. This speech impediment, as I have explained i n Chapter One, i s the l i n k between his role as schoolmaster and that of prophet. His a l l e g o r i c a l role as prophet i s seen i n his assoc-i a t i o n with the wood. For the priest/prophet of p r i m i t i v e 9 s o c i e t i e s i s also the king of the wood. Thus on the day of the House match, he emerges from the cool, contingent world of the wood. On another occasion, Mor finds him i n the wood, Indisputably the master, presiding over an art c l a s s , with Rain serving as model. I t seems to Mor, however, that i t Is a d i f f e r e n t Rain, f o r she i s "transformed," and "a prisoner" i n t h i s world ruled by Bledyard: Master of the scene and overlooking i t with a powerful eye was Bledyard, who was leaning against a tree on the f a r side of the c l e a r -ing. Before his attention was caught by Mor, 37 he was looking f i x e d l y at Miss Carter. He was i n his s h i r t sleeves and had his hands i n his pockets. His longish hair f e l l limply as f a r as his cheeks. He looked to Mor i n that moment l i k e Comus, l i k e L u c i f e r (pp. 153-154). No longer an advocate of morality, he i s now, from Mor's point of view, the tempter, personifying e v i l . As Comus, he i s the master of revelry, tempter of chaste maidens. As L u c i f e r , the brightest of angels, he i s the tempter of other angels. He has Comus* power to bewitch, and now holds Rain as captive. For Rain says to Mor later« "You came and r e -leased me from a s p e l l " (p. 175)• This a l l u s i o n to Bled-yard' s magical power occurs again l a t e r i n F e l i c i t y ' s im-pression of him, an impression that reinforces his ro l e as priest/prophet king of the wood. To F e l i c i t y , he i s a s i n i s t e r enchanter whom she sees, as she.is walking through the wood, as a man s i t t i n g on the ground with his legs drawn up i n front of him. He seemed to be alone ... and was s t a r i n g s t r a i g h t ahead of him, his arms clasped round his knees. She watched him f o r a long time, n e a r l y . f i v e minutes, during which his a t t i t u d e d i d not vary. He was a strange-looking man with hypnotic eyes and rather long hair (p. 129). Recounting her experience to her brother and Jimmy Carde l a t e r , she says that he looked l i k e a " f a k i r i n a sort of trance" (p. 130). Jimmy r e p l i e s f l i p p a n t l y , "Bledyard w i l l put the 38 e v i l eye on you" (p. 130), whereupon F e l i c i t y shivers. The suggestion that Bledyard, i n his a l l e g o r i c a l r o l e , i s a s i n i s t e r figure contrasts d i s t i n c t l y with his r o l e as a schoolmaster who l i v e s by a s t r i c t moral code. This contrast accentuates the difference between the two lev e l s of r e a l i t y . This kind of contrast between an enchanter figure's two roles does not ex i s t i n The Nice and the Good. Here Ducane i s , on both l e v e l s , a seeker of knowledge, a man on a quest to achieve a better understanding of the events surrounding him, and of himself. In the world of form, Ducane appears to be an ordinary man. He i s middle-aged (forty-three and looks f o r t y - t h r e e ) , a lawyer and a conscientious c i v i l servant i n Whitehall, a fr i e n d to a large number of people, and a plato n i c lover to Kate i n the other s e t t i n g , Trescombe. Like most people, he i s very much concerned with preserving a c e r t a i n image of himself i n the eyes of. others. He thinks of himself as a good man, a "strong s e l f - s u f f i c i e n t c l e a n - l i v i n g rather austere person to whom helping others Is a natural a c t i v i t y " • (p. 187). His desire to help others makes him a natural object of fantasy to them. They see i n him the a b i l i t y to s a t i s f y t h e i r psychological needs. To Je s s i c a , he i s a father figure from whom she seeks s t a b i l i t y a f t e r a purpose-less existence. She regards him as a s p i r i t u a l master, and 39 i n f a c t thinks of him i n terms of r e l i g i o u s imagery. She i s w i l l i n g to be s a c r i f i c e d f o r him as a martyr for a god: she had been " c r u c i f i e d " f o r him and has r i s e n again (p. 150). Consequently, her v i s i t to his home becomes a " p i l -grimage" (p. 171); his bedroom an a l t a r , and his wardrobe "the ark of some unfamiliar f a i t h " (p. 195). She does not see him as an independent, separate being, thus her claim of love i s not r e a l love i n I r i s Murdoch's sense, but a fantasy that enslaves both of them. With tears, entreaties and hyst e r i a , she holds him i n bondage. Kate also holds Ducane i n bondage, but with pl a t o n i c love, which, as I have made cl e a r i n Chapter One, i s fantasy i n I r i s Murdoch's world. Ducane i s "a very necessary man" (p. 11) to Kate who needs his love, as she needs everyone's, to feed her egotism. He plays an important part i n her world of "harmonious pattern." When that pattern i s threatened, when her r e l a t i o n s h i p with him becomes a muddle, she immed-i a t e l y ends i t . I t i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of her that her only concern i s that she had made "an awful ass" (p. 352) of herse l f over him. To Octavlan she says, "We thought he was God, didn't we, and he turns out to be just l i k e us a f t e r a l l " (p. 352). Others regard Ducane as "father confessor" (p. 191), f o r he possesses a talent that prompts others to confide i n 40 him. Mary recognizes that p a r t i c u l a r .coaxing intentness i n Ducane's manner, his way of questioning people with close attention so as to make them t e l l him everything about them-selves, which they usually turned out to be a l l too ready to do so ... rsic"! (p. 2 1 3 ) . This talent causes her, immediately a f t e r she has decided not to t e l l him anything, to dis c l o s e the circumstances of her husband's accidental death. His reply reveals him to be another of I r i s Murdoch's spokesmen: 'Chance i s r e a l l y harder to bear than mor-t a l i t y , and i t ' s a l l chance my dear, even what seems most i n e v i t a b l e . I t ' s not easy to do, but one must accept i t as one accepts one's losses and one's past* (p. 2 1 5 ) . By accepting contingency, one comes to terms with l i f e , and frees oneself f o r loving others. ; Like Bledyard's stammer, Ducane's lefthandedness suggests his other r o l e on another l e v e l of r e a l i t y . Lefthandedness intimates something dark and otherworldly; i t implies devious-. ness and possession of magical powers as well as association with the d e v i l . 1 0 This a l l u s i o n i s important when taken t o -gether with his appearance i n the vaults beneath Whitehall. In his i n v e s t i g a t i o n into the death of Radeechy, he i s led to the vaults, the other world, by the o f f i c e messenger 41 McGrath, who ran errands f o r the s e l f - s t y l e d L u c i f e r , Radeechy. In the vaults, Ducane i s a Faust figure who i s led to the land of the dead by the d e v i l ' s messenger Mephis-topheles. His lefthandedness suggests that he i s a conjuror, l i k e Faust, and his journey to the vaults i s also made i n search of knowledge. In the vaults, he encounters evidences of the practice of black magic, and himself p a r t i c i p a t e s i n a black mass. In t h i s symbolic h e l l , he experiences a moment of truth. He had paid blackmail to McGrath i n order to preserve his reputation as an honest man to the two women i n his l i f e whom he had deceived. Now, with sudden i n s i g h t , he asks t Could not e v i l damn a man, was there not black-ness enough to k i l l a human soul? It i s i n me ..... The e v i l i s i n me. There are demons and powers outside us ... but they are pigmy things. The great e v i l , the r e a l e v i l i s ' inside myself (p. 2 2 3 ) . With t h i s r e a l i z a t i o n comes the determination to accept the consequences of his decei t . He refuses to pay further black-mall. Ducane, as Faust, has several encounters with "Helen of Troy," otherwise Judy McGrath, the wife of the d e v i l ' s messenger. These meetings are comic, f o r on two occasions, Judy i s not only stark naked, but assumes various sexually a l l u r i n g postures. As she also has a face (and body) that 42 may possibly launch a thousand ships, her presence repre-sents a r e a l temptation to Ducane, whose a b i l i t y to r e s i s t her t e s t i f i e s to his strength of character. It i s perhaps not without reason that Kate thinks he resembles the Duke of Wellington, who was knovm as "the i r o n duke." Though he i s able to r e s i s t her, Judy's beauty moves him to Faustian speculation i Ducane f e l t , t h i s i s a moment outside my ordinary l i f e , a-moment given by a god, not perhaps by a great god, and not by a good one, but by a god c e r t a i n l y (p. 203). The counterpart of the vaults i n t h i s contingent world i s Gunnar's cave where Ducane swims to rescue his future step-son Pierce, stranded there by the r i s i n g water. Upon entering the cave, Ducane i n i t i a l l y experiences sensations l i k e those he experienced i n the vaults. The a i r i s also odoriferous, "a f a i n t l y rotten sea smell, as i f the water i t s e l f were de-composing" (p. 3 0 5 ) • He f e e l s a s i m i l a r sense of c l a u s t r o -phobia, and.at the same time of being "removed from r e a l i t y " (p. 3 0 2 ) . Wraiths and apparitions appear before him. It i s more than Faust encountering the dead of the past; i t i s Aeneas i n the underworld. In f a c t , the Aeneld i s s p e c i f i c a l l y r eferred to just before Ducane's excursion to the cave. In discussing Book Six, concerning Aeneas' descent to h e l l , Willy t e l l s Mary that, i n his opinion, knowledge cannot be 43 gained i n h e l l i 'Very few ordeals are redemptive and I doubt i f the descent into h e l l teaches anything new. It can only hasten processes which are already i n existence, and usually t h i s just means that i t degrades. You see, i n h e l l one lacks the energy f o r any good change. This indeed i s the meaning of h e l l ' (p. 2 8 3 ) . Ducane, however, does learn i n h e l l . He experiences another moment of truth that leads him to decide t 'If I ever get out of here I w i l l be no man's judge. Nothing Is worth doing except to k i l l the l i t t l e rat (his image of his s e l f i s h n e s s ) , not to judge, not to be superior, not to exer-cis e power, not to seek, seek, seek. To love and to reconcile and to forgive, only t h i s matters. A l l power i s s i n and a l l law i s f r a i l t y . Love i s the only j u s t i c e ' (p. 3 l M . Ducane's experience i n the cave i s an example of the archetypal experience of the epic hero i n his quest through l i f e . The cave symbolizes "the b e l l y of the whale" 1 1 and the entrance to i t the magical threshold. In the hero's quest, he must pass t h i s threshold into a sphere of r e b i r t h . This passage i s a form of a n n i h i l a t i o n ; he goes inward to be 12 reborn again. The, a n n i h i l a t i o n here i s the a n n i h i l a t i o n of s e l f . In the vaults, Ducane recognizes e v i l i n himself, the e v i l which he purges on his emergence from them by accepting the consequences of his decei t . In the cave, he goes a step further; he learns, i n I r i s Murdoch's words, to 44 "pierce the v e i l of s e l f i s h n e s s . " Thus, when he emerges from the cave, he i s a d i f f e r e n t man. He has moved from "conventional niceness to a higher plane of good."^ The difference between "nice" and "good" i s vast i n I r i s Mur-doch's e t h i c s . To be nice, i n her view, i s to be good accord-ing to conventional morality. Octavian and Kate are considered good by other people, f o r they are kind and generous to t h e i r f r i e n d s . But they are merely nice i n I r i s Murdoch's terms, f o r t h e i r acts of charity bring to them s e l f - g r a t i f i c a t i o n . They are conscious of s e l f i n t h e i r goodwill. To be good i n I r i s Murdoch's terms requires an o b l i t e r a t i n g of s e l f . Theo r e a l i z e s t h i s i Theo had begun to glimpse the distance which separates the nice and the good, and the v i s i o n of t h i s gap t e r r i f i e d his soul. He had seen, f a r o f f , what i s perhaps the most dreadful thing i n the world, the other face of love, i t s blank face. Everything that,he was, even the best that he was, was connected with possessive s e l f - f i l l i n g human love. That blank demand Implied the death of his whole being (pp. 359-360). The abandonment of s e l f leads not only to love and freedom, but also to happiness. Willy expresses t h i s viewi 'Happiness ... i s a matter of one's.most or-dinary everyday mode of consciousness being busy and l i v e l y and unconcerned with s e l f . To be damned i s f o r one's ordinary everyday mode of consciousness to be unremitting ag-onizing preoccupation with s e l f (p. 187). 45 Ducane i n the end w i l l be happy; he marries Mary, the most li k e a b l e of the women i n the novel. The Nice and the Good i s a more complicated novel i n terms of plot and number of characters than The Sandcastle. For t h i s reason, Ducane i s presented i n a less simple manner than Bledyard. Ducane, moreover, i s a major character, i f not the chief character. He not only appears i n more places, but Is seen under a va r i e t y of conditions,.working, at l e i s u r e , with his mistress, as a v i c t i m of blackmail and so on. The places representing the contingent world i n t h i s novel are not ordinary everyday places l i k e a garden or a wood, but unusual, less frequented places. The vaults are remnants of wartime conditions, s u i t a b l e , i t seems, only f o r nefarious a c t i v i t i e s . The cave i s known to be a place of danger, unsuitable f o r ordinary explorations. Thus, while Bledyard's presence i n the wood requires no explanation - — the wood i s a f t e r a l l i n the proximity of the school Ducane's presence i n the vaults and the cave needs to be prepared. This preparation I r i s Murdoch of f e r s i n an i n -t r i c a t e , often ingenious plot pattern. This more complicated method of describing an enchanter figure i s more character-i s t i c of her usual method, f o r she has not repeated, i n any other novel, the r e l a t i v e l y simple and straightforward approach she uses i n describing Bledyard. 46 I I . Emma Sands and M i l l i e Klnnard P h y s i c a l settings are not as important i n An U n o f f i c i a l  Rose and The Red and the Green as they are i n the two novels discussed i n the previous section, i n determining the en-chanter's r o l e s on two l e v e l s of r e a l i t y . Here i t i s the enchanter's appearance, her actions and the responses she evokes from others, that suggest her a l l e g o r i c a l roles i n the contingent world. In these novels, the world of form i s sym-bolized by p a r t i c u l a r locations, but not the contingent world which i n both serves as a background to contrast with the places i n the world of form. In An U n o f f i c i a l Rose, form i s represented by Grayhallock and by Seton B l a i s e . Grayhallock was appropriately b u i l t i n the Eighteenth-century, the age of rationalism and a desire f o r form. Here roses are c a r e f u l l y c u l t i v a t e d and nurtured, according to a s p e c i f i c a l l y designed o pattern. The mistress of t h i s world i s Ann, who, l i k e her predecessor and mother-in-law Fanny, i s a woman "without mystery" (p. 19) and without "darkness" (p. 2 ) . Seton B l a i s e i s low-lying, surrounded by water-meadows. But the l i t t l e park afforded i t s own v i s t a s : the avenue through the chestnut grove to the lake, the turn of the r i v e r , a miniature reach, between the cedar tree and the bridge, the lawn sloping, with l i t t l e copses of feathery shrubs, towards 47 the main gates. The place was small, but b e a u t i f u l l y composed; and seeming to have everything i t appeared neither large nor small but merely perfect (p. 36). . This l a s t i s reminiscent of Dorset, which appears to Ducane to be "just the ri g h t s i z e . " The emphasis on the smallness, though b e a u t i f u l , indicates the confinement of form, as opposed to the immensity of the sublime, which represents contingency. To Hugh, Seton Blaise i s "a haven of innocence and warmth" (p. 36 ) , a l o s t garden of Eden which he had coveted once ' " . In t h i s world of form, Emma appears to be an ordinary old woman who i s "placed" as Fanny's childhood f r i e n d , Mildred's college f r i e n d , Hugh's mistress, and a successful writer of mystery novels. She i s unmistakably aged, i s also deaf, and s t r i c k e n with a f a t a l heart condition. This, as well as her quite ordinary appearance, manner of dress and behaviour, makes her seem quite exceptional. Like Bledyard, she also possesses a c l a r i t y of v i s i o n , though others do not perceive i t i n her case as they do i n Bledyard's. This c l a r i t y of v i s i o n i s demonstrated when she discourages Hugh from attempting to recapture the past by saying to hlmi 'Hugh, stop b e l i e v i n g i n magic. You are just l i k e poor Randall a f t e r a l l , who thinks he can conjure up pleasure domes and caves of ice just by boarding a plane and sending o f f a few l e t t e r s ' (p. 270). 48 The a l l u s i o n to Coleridge's "Kubla Khan" evokes romanticism and the dream that i s the nature of Hugh's wish. Emma also has a keen sense of humour, which i s the outcome of a r e a l i s -t i c v i s i o n . She asks Hugh, "Wouldn't we he r i d i c u l o u s , two old people shouting endearments at each other?" (p. 270). Her unromantic statement, however, f a i l s to discourage Hugh. To Hugh, she i s a romantic image from a nostalgic past, a past that i s i n retrospect i d e a l i z e d out of proportion to r e a l i t y . Their a f f a i r , i n his present frame of mind, began with "a burst of i l l u m i n a t i o n " (p. 15), l i k e an epiphany, when he had, with a "prophetic groan, taken her into his arms" (p. 15)• So i t remains i n his mind "as i f some god designed that he should not forget" (p. 25)- When t h e i r a f f a i r ended, t h e i r subsequent acc i d e n t a l meetings are "appointed by the gods" (p. 25). This nost a l g i a with which he regards Emma and his past i s symbolized by a "haze." His imaginings of t h e i r reunion are "hazy" (p. 93) » he t e l l s Mildred, "I have been i n a haze of expectation l i k e a boy" (p. 86), i n a n t i c i p a t i o n of his meeting with Emma. Appro-p r i a t e l y , Emma i s always seen " l o s t i n a haze of cig a r e t t e smoke" (p. 62). "Haze" suggests a clouded v i s i o n , f o r Hugh's v i s i o n of her Is v e i l e d by his fantasy. In his mind, she belongs, not i n a r e a l world, but "with that other shapely world of the imagination" (p. 50), the world of his 4 9 T i n t o r e t t o . The painting, i n f a c t , i s often linked with Emma, for i t too, "symbolizes a l i f e t i m e of suppressed d e s i r e " - ^ for Hugh. When t a l k i n g about her, he passes back and f o r t h before the T i n t o r e t t o , occasionally touching i t gently with his f i n g e r s . In his f i r s t r e v i s i t to her, he in v i t e s her to see the pict u r e , which, s i g n i f i c a n t l y , he had acquired a f t e r they separated. F i n a l l y , he s e l l s i t , hoping by so doing to be reunited with her. The association of the painting by Tin t o r e t t o with Emma i s s i g n i f i c a n t . T i n t o r e t t o belonged to the Mannerist school of painting, whose works are considered melodramatic, characterized by sudden flashes of l i g h t and inky shadows. 1^ Furthermore, Hugh's p a r t i c u l a r T i n t o r e t t o , an e a r l i e r version of Susannah i n "Susannah Bathing i n Vienna," i s enveloped i n golden colouring. I t l i g h t s the. room, " l i k e a small sun" (p. 82). Looking-at i t well might a spectator think of honey, looking at that plump, d e l i c i o u s , golden form, one leg g l i d i n g the green water into which i t was plunged. A heavy twining compilation of golden hair crowned a face of radiant s p i r i t u a l vagueness which could only have been imagined by T i n t o r e t t o . Golden bracelets composed her apparel, and a pearl whose watery whiteness both r e f l e c t e d and r e s i s t e d the soft surrounding honey-coloured shades (p. 82). The colour "gold," as I have mentioned e a r l i e r , i s a sus-picious q u a l i t y i n I r i s Murdoch's world, for i t symbolizes 5 0 i l l u s i o n . Tintoretto's melodramatic approach to a r t , the kind of a r t i s t i c creation that i s opposed to Bledyard's and her own view of a r t , resembles Hugh's fantasy of Emma i n that both are "hazy" and deny the objective r e a l i t y of the existence of the object viewed. Not s u r p r i s i n g l y then, his Tin t o r e t t o and his image of Emma are related i n his mind, f o r both represent his "golden dream of another world" (p. 82). In his fantasized v i s i o n of t h e i r reunion, Hugh sees himself, as i n a dream, romantically "as i t were waltzing away with Emma" (p. 146). When a c t u a l l y confronted with her, however, he i s shocked: "She was very much older. He had not, i n the apparitions he had had of her, seen her ageing" (p. 93) •. More than her age, i t i s the r e a l i z a t i o n that she exists independently that s t a r t l e s him further: "It was not Emma related to him but Emma e x i s t i n g which was the shock which so almost threw him back into a greater s o l i t u d e " (p. 93)• Enclosed i n his fantasy world, Hugh cannot perceive Emma as a free, separate being. Consequently he becomes a f r a i d when she expresses a desire to v i s i t his home: And i t was almost as. i f he f e l t that i f he allowed Emma to come there she might put a s p e l l on them a l l . The people at Grayhallock, what was l e f t of them, were a f t e r a l l his family (p. 99). - r ,. 51 It i s as i f he fears that such a confrontation would deprive him of his consolation, his fantasized version of Emma. Randall regards Emma as an enchanter capable of "witch-l i k e " (p. 171) actions such as changing Lindsay into a d o l l . He f e e l s towards her an ambiguous mixture of "fear, a t t r a c -t i o n , puzzlement and h o s t i l i t y which ... together composed a sort of enchantment" (p. 170). Her world seems to him to be a magical one, co n s i s t i n g of "cushions and ... sherbert, the t i n k l i n g b e l l s and the gay-plumaged b i r d s , the golden c o l l a r s and the curving blades" (p. .121). This imagery evokes the magical world of the Tales of the Arabian Nights with i t s genie.s, t y r a n n i c a l r u l e r s , slaves and dancing g i r l s , the world of ultimate make-believe. In t h i s enchanting world, Randall thinks of himself as the favourite slave who "has been kept on cushions and fed on sherbert" (p. 118). He enjoys the enslavement, but at the same time resents i t because of his fear of Emma. She represents contingency; she "existed, and with what authority, with what h o r r i b l e contingent power ..." (p. 170). She threatens his desire f o r form, to l i v e i n "a world which has some sort of stru c -ture" (p. 31),to,be In cont r o l of his own destiny. With Emma he i s never sure whether any action which he ins t i g a t e s does not i n fac t originate with her. He i s uncertain even of his f a l l i n g i n love with Lindsay: 52 It was as i f Emma had produced the s i t u a t i o n i n which he had desired Lindsay. Emma had been, as i t were, the impressario of his passion (p. 2 6 1 ) . When, with the proceeds from the sale o f r t h e T i n t o r e t t o , he has the means to elope with Lindsay, Emma leads him to be-li e v e that she had i n i t i a t e d t h i s enterprise: He knew that he had been defeated .... How d e f t l y , how c l e v e r l y had not Emma sowed the seeds of doubt i n his mind. He would never understand, he would never know the truth, he would never be at peace (p. 1 7 4 ) . As he i s enclosed i n his fantasy world, he, l i k e his father, cannot see Emma as an independent person. Again l i k e his father, he resents her v i s i t to Grayhallock. Echoing-Hugh: More simply and immediately he feared and detested the idea of Emma's v i s i t i n g Gray-hallock i n his absence or indeed at a l l ; and the thought of her presence there wrung from him a cry of: but those are my people! (P. 1 1 9 ) . Others react to Emma with s i m i l a r mixtures of a t t r a c t i o n and awe. F e l i x considers her an "exotic and s l i g h t l y dangerous f i g u r e " (p. 1 3 6 ) . Ann Is stimulated by her, f o r Emma's v i t a l i t y Invigorated her: " I t was as i f Emma made her e x i s t more, and cast upon her, out of her own more v i v i d personal-i t y , a ce r t a i n l i g h t and colour" (p. 1 2 9 ) . Being passive, she i s drawn by Emma's "spare energy." Emma i s thus 53 fashioned according to the fantasy of others. They see her only as an enchanter, but not as what she also i s , a c l e a r -e sighted old woman facing imminent death with courageous resignation. The fear that others have of Emma i s not t o t a l l y un-j u s t i f i e d , for she does enjoy manipulating people. She uses wealth as a bait f o r Lindsay's servitude, preys on Randall's fear of l i f e , and t r i c k s F e l i x into commiting what to him i s an i n d i s c r e t i o n . This manipulation of others indicates a lack of love f o r others i n I r i s Murdoch's sense, f o r i t shows that she regards others as objects, not as separate, free beings to be respected. However, Emma i s not completely lacking i n humanity as Wolfe suggests.1''7 She does possess p o s i t i v e q u a l i t i e s , such as her insistence on facing r e a l i t y and a sense of humour, q u a l i t i e s which, i n I r i s Murdoch's world, are not i n s i g n i f i c a n t v i r t u e s . Emma i s more ambiva-lent than e v i l . Her moral ambiguity i s reinforced by the use'of two kinds of animal Imagery i n the d e s c r i p t i o n of her. One kind evokes animals generally considered unpleasant, i f not r e -pu l s i v e , and another kind evokes animals that are regarded as man's best f r i e n d s . The f i r s t kind of images are those of animals that l i v e i n darkness, such as bats, below the surface of the earth, such as sn a i l s and moles, and r e p t i l e s . 54 Like animals who l i v e i n darkness, Emma.has the "dark and luminous eyes of a nocturnal animal 1* (p. 1 9 1 ) . At Fanny's funeral, she and Lindsay are " c l i n g i n g grotesquely together" (p« 5 0 ) , " l i k e bats" (p. 1 7 ) , evoking a most s i n i s t e r p i c -t u r e H u g h i n . f a c t thinks of her presence there as "almost -s i n i s t e r " (p. 2 5 ) . Not so s i n i s t e r i s Randall's image of her - an image that suggests her s e n s i t i v i t y - at Grayhallock leaving her "s n a i l ' s traces" (p. 173) a l l over. She herself r e f e r s to that v i s i t as that of an "old mole leaving i t s burrow" (p. 124). Snails and moles have one thing i n common i n that they both l i v e underground. Less pleasant are com-parisons of Emma with r e p t i l e s . She refers to herself as a "stuffed a l l i g a t o r " (p. 9 5 ) , and "an i n q u i s i t i v e old r e p t i l e " (p. 135).- She s i t s with her shoulders humped, "toad-like" (p. 9 8 ) , while her hand rests on the chair l i k e a "wary l i z a r d " (p. 9 4 ) . She s i t s "curled l i k e a snake i n a hole" (p. 9 6 ) , speaks with "viperous s a t i s f a c t i o n " (p. 9 6 ) , watch-ing "beady-eyed" (p. 96) f o r the e f f e c t of her speech on Hugh. Randall sees himself, Lindsay and Emma c o i l e d l i k e three muscular snakes at the centre of the e d i f i c e ( t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p ) (p. 6 3 ) . Animals that l i v e i n darkness or underground are assoc-iated with a world that i s the opposite to that of the bright, above-ground world. Theirs i s symbolically the unconscious, 55 dark;, mysterious - — contingent. With t h i s world, Emma i s associated. Hugh thinks of her as belonging with the "dark free things" (p . . 5 0 ) » a n d Randall sees her as where "the darkness was" (p. 6 2 ) . Unlike Ann, who i s without mystery and darkness, and who l i v e s i n a world of form, Emma also inhabits the contingent world. Her world i s that of the " u n o f f i c i a l rose," which grows wild, untended by human hands. With her, Hugh finds himself confronted with an e n t i r e l y unfamiliar moral world, a world which seemed to have i t s own seriousness, even i t s own ru l e s , while r e -maining e n t i r e l y exotic and a l i e n ... and i t came to his mind how much of Emma's fa s c i n a t i o n had l a i n f o r him i n her moral otherness .... And he had then been aware with a l i t t l e t h r i l l of excitement that t h i s novelty of v i s i o n was related to something i n her character which was dark, perhaps twisted (p. 9 6 ) . "Twisted" evokes images of snakes wriggling, r e i n f o r c i n g the e a r l i e r comparisons of her with snakes. This snake Imagery as 1 mentioned i n Chapter One, suggests that she i s a pythian p r i e s t e s s , thus a prophetess. Randall's image of the three muscular snakes suggests s p e c i f i c a l l y the tri p o d on which 18 the pythian priestess s i t s to inhale the fumes of prophecy. The second kind of images are those of dogs, "man's best f r i e n d s . " Mildred r e c a l l s Emma's "sharp clever dog-face" (p. 6 8 ) , and Hugh sees the "dog-mask of her face" (p. 2 6 7 ) . At his f i r s t r e v i s i t to her, he f e e l s that t h e i r 56 bodies " s n i f f e d each other l i k e two old dogs" (p. 94). At Grayhallock, she i s " t e r r i e r - l i k e " (p. 131). These compar-isons stress her i n t e l l i g e n c e , for dogs are credited with high i n t e l l i g e n c e . At the same time, these dog images allude to her r o l e i n the contingent world. In Egyptian mythology, the dog-star i s Thoth, the god of i n t e l l i g e n c e . ^ His con-stant companion i s Anubls, the god who conducts souls to the O A underworld and who i s dog-headed. This reference i s s i g -n i f i c a n t , f o r Emma i s i n fact the l i n k between the world of form and the contingent world i n the novel, and i n t h i s sense i s the conductor from one to the other. In the same manner that imagery describing her can be interpreted on two l e v e l s , one of her acts serve also as an a l l u s i o n to her a l l e g o r i c a l r o l e . Emma sees, as apparently no one else does, that between Hugh's grandchildren, Penn i s a worthier person than Miranda. Consequently, she leaves him her wealth. On one l e v e l , t h i s act further indicates that she possesses a cl e a r v i s i o n . On another, i t suggests that Penn i s her r i g h t f u l h e i r , f o r he i s a m i s f i t at Grayhallock, the world of form. He belongs with the "outback" (p. 44), the " t o t a l l y untamed beyond" (p. 44), and has more a f f i n i t y , thus, with Emma's dark, contingent world. The world of form i n The Red and the Green i s symbol-ized, as i t i s i n An U n o f f i c i a l Rose, by a private estate, 57 here Flnglas, owned by Christopher Bellman. I t i s an elegant estate, i t s huge garden secluded behind substantial walls of golden stone ... contained two a i l i n g but ga l l a n t palm trees. The house, a d i g n i f i e d v i l l a c a l l e d 'Flnglas', with big square windows and a shallow s l a t e roof, was washed a s l i g h t l y streaky blue. I t was both neat and spacious, b u i l t i n a s t y l e of confident 'seaside Georgian' ....21 The square windows and the neatness of the v i l l a suggest pattern and form. In this world, M i l l i e i s "placed" as a member of a large. Anglo-Irish clan. In appearance she i s b e a u t i f u l but plump, and i n manner boisterous and unfeminine. From Andrew's point of view, she i s "a plump youngish woman with a r a d i a n t l y smiling face, elegantly dressed ... and' p o s i t i v e l y , oh very p o s i t i v e l y , p r e t t y " (p. 59). Pat, less c haritably, sees, her "plump eager face thrust forward ... her bi g rather damp eyes g l i s t e n i n g and bulging ..." (p. 88). Christopher watches her "plump s l i g h t l y swaying f i g u r e " (pp. 123-124) moving away from him. Her plumpness, and Chris-topher's Image of her as "an overflowing v e s s e l " (p. 68), suggest a f u l l n e s s of s p i r i t , and generosity. Though pretty, she i s not an image of femininity, f o r she wears trousers, smokes cigars, and i s f a m i l i a r with firearms. This Indicates her independence, uncommon with women i n that era. 58 As well as generosity and independence, M i l l i e i s honest. This i s emphasized by comparisons of her with cats, dogs and animals i n general. Animals, i n t h e i r guilessness, represent honesty. Barney considers her "so e s s e n t i a l l y a free animal" (p. 128). Christopher thinks of her. as being a wild beast i n the process of being tamed (p. 7 2 ) . She bounces ahead of Pat l i k e a dog as they mount the s t a i r s (p. 1 5 5 ) , and he sees her i n her l u s t , transformed into an animal (p. 1 5 7 ) . Cornered by her, Andrew thinks of her as "a s t a l k i n g cat" (p. 254). Cats, p a r t i c u l a r l y , are known for t h e i r i n -dependence. These animal images indicate that M i l l i e ' s approach to l i f e i s l i k e that of animals, often i n s t i n c t i v e . Because of her own honesty, she i s able to penetrate the i l l u s i o n s others have. She sees Barney's desire f o r the priesthood as romantic rol e - p l a y i n g rather than a genuine dedication to the Church. S i m i l a r l y , she sees Andrew's conception of himself as s o l d i e r , greatly influenced by his readings of Malory, as romantic image-making. She teases him by c a l l i n g him a handsome boy i n uniform, which i s exactly how he views himself. Though capable of some i n s i g h t , M i l l i e does not turn i t into virtuous action; she i s governed by too much s e l f - i n t e r e s t . Some of her acts are deplorable, such as her attempted seduction of her young nephews Andrew and Pat, her conduct towards Barney, and her blackmail of 59 Andrew, and must be counted against her. Warner Berthoff claims that despite her questionable behaviour, when i t comes to an assessment of her character, the ""moral balance s h e e t " 2 2 i s i n her favour because the love she offers others i s r e a l love. This i s not quite true. She does not love others i n I r i s Murdoch's sense, f o r i n Kathleen's words, "she respects no one. She does not see where another person be-gins" (p. 66). This c e r t a i n l y implies a condemnation of her character. M i l l i e ' s plumpness and aggressive manner intimate her r o l e i n the contingent world, which i s Ireland i t s e l f , t r a -d i t i o n a l l y "green," as opposed to England with i t s "red" m i l i t a r y power. The contingent world i s seen i n the landscape by the p i e r , s p e c i f i c a l l y the rocks which form the landscape; The blows and caresses of the sea had made no impression upon the shape of the rocks or even upon t h e i r colour. They remained senselessly jagged and yellow, a random p i l e of unalterable, many-surfaced s o l i d s . Here and there a huge stone, balanced between two neighbours, would t i l t to and fro at the touch of the waves. In other places the rocks seemed more cl o s e l y fused as i f some sem i - i n t e l l i g e n t hand had wedged them together. But mostly they lay l i k e things tossed down, one i d l y r e s t i n g upon another. And between them were great holes and crevasses, ugly s l i t s and i r r e g u l a r gashes, within which the sea would roar or come suddenly surging upward to b o i l over the i n -d i f f e r e n t surfaces (p. 108). 60 Within this d e s c r i p t i v e passage there are several words that epitomize I r i s Murdoch's idea of contingency*- "senselessly," "random," "unalterable," and " i n d i f f e r e n t . " Not s u r p r i s i n g l y , Barney fears these rocks, f o r he, l i k e Randall, desires form i n his l i f e : He feared the deep crevasses down which a man might s l i d e into some awful sea cavern. More perhaps he feared the huge weight, the app a l l i n g hardness, the senselessness of them. They were l i k e the great weighty stupid world which had r o l l e d o ff the lap of God. They were the mean-ingless things that he knew, as meaningless as death (p. 108) For those enclosed i n t h e i r fantasy world, r e a l i t y In the form of 'contingency, i s , l i k e the landscape, fri g h t e n i n g . M i l l i e , i n her plumpness and aggressiveness, i s the symbol of Ireland, r i c h i n s p i r i t , poor i n economic resources, the v i c t i m of opportunists and an enchantress to those who love her. The language used to describe her i s sometimes s i m i l a r to that which often appears i n p o l i t i c a l e d i t o r i a l s : " M i l l i e ' s d i f f i c u l t y would be Christopher's opportunity" (p. 69), "a desperate exposed M i l l i e would be an e n t i r e l y d i f f e r -ent person and one who might well f i n d the strength within herself to prefer her freedom" (p. 118). That M i l l i e i s the symbol of Ireland i s seen i n the men's feel i n g s about her, which are remarkably s i m i l a r to t h e i r f e e l i n g s about Ireland I t s e l f . Christopher, who 61 professes, to be a p o l i t i c a l c y n i c , . f e e l s a strong romantic sympathy with the whole t r a d i t i o n of r e b e l l i o n i n Ireland and with the Sinn Feiners as the present representa-t i v e s of that t r a d i t i o n . He loved the h i s -tory of Ireland as i f i t were a personal possession ... (p. 202). His fe e l i n g s about M i l l i e are s i m i l a r l y governed by a strong sense of possession, and there i s also a s i m i l a r discrepancy between his public view of her and his private behaviour t o -wards her. He f e e l s towards her a mixture of "exasperation, f a s c i n a t i o n , adoration and f e a r " (p. 6 5 ) . She i s "one of the world's more s i g n i f i c a n t objects" (p. 6 7 ) , "a r i c h p r i z e " (p. 1 1 9 ) , a "gorgeous .desirable object" (p. 6 8 ) . The use of "object" and " p r i z e " indicates that Christopher does not r e a l l y love M i l l i e , but wants to possess her as one wishes to possess a valuable objet d'art. Psychologically, he looks to her to compensate f o r a lack within himself 1 There was some coldness, some shivering, shrewd thinness i n Christopher which needed her desperately, which clung to her as to a source of warmth and l i f e (p. 6 8 ) . He f a i l s to possess her, as he f a l l s to express his love f o r Ireland by attempting to penetrate into the Post O f f i c e dur-ing the r e b e l l i o n . 62 Pat's love f o r Ireland i s ' a complicated mixture of emotions, c o n s i s t i n g of fanaticism, indignation at her p o l i t i c a l status, his owh sense of his high destiny, and an underlying sexual neurosis which expresses i t s e l f i n his loathing of the f l e s h and i n his v i o l e n t s e l f - d i s c i p l i n e s 2 3 His patriotism was not of the d i f f u s e and t a l k a t i v e kind, and though i t was c e r t a i n l y romantic i t was with some d i s t i l l e d essence of romanticism, something b i t t e r and dark and pure .... His Ireland was nameless, a pure Ireland of the mind, to be r e l e n t l e s s l y served by a naked sense of j u s t i c e and a naked s e l f -a s s e r t i o n . There was i n his drama only these two characters, Ireland and himself (p. 77). His fee l i n g s f o r M i l l i e are also governed by his sexual neuro-s i s . He thinks of her as "a s l u t , " "vulgar," "depraved" and "trash," whose face i s "a Roman mask, huge-eyed and open-mouthed, strained and p a i n f u l and yet at the same time lewd" (p. 158). At best, she i s to him s i l l y and f r i v o l o u s , but she i s also brave and "capable of a strength of d i s c r e t i o n which Pat somehow connected with her undoubted ph y s i c a l courage" (p. 155). For th i s reason, he entrusts her with the rebel arms and ammunitions, and r e l i e s on her to subdue Andrew during a c r u c i a l moment i n the u p r i s i n g . He goes to her bed, not f o r the obvious reason, but because he f e e l s the need to punish his body: 63 This would be the l a s t triumph of his w i l l over his fa s t i d i o u s mind, and over the f o u l animal of his body, f o r although he now de-si r e d M i l l i e , he. knew that i t was only by pure v o l i t i o n that he could so degrade him-s e l f (p. 212). -His neurosis Is best revealed by the masculine imagery which he uses to describe her. He often thinks of her as resembling a boy or a man; "depraved and f r i v o l o u s , a mixture of pros-t i t u t e and adolescent boy" (p. 88), "a p r i n c i p a l boy i n an operetta" (p. 156), and when he Is coercing himself into going to her bed, she i s a "degraded boy" (p. 212). Later, she i s l i k e a " s c h o o l g i r l acting a man i n a play" (p. 252). This t r a n s v e s t i t e imagery i s not only suggestive of Pat's sexual neurosis, but serves to emphasize further M i l l i e ' s aggressive-ness and independence, q u a l i t i e s which, i n that era, were associated with masculinity. To Andrew, Ireland represents his cousins, p a r t i c u l a r l y Pat. It i s "a mystery, an unsolved problem" (p. 8) and a source of anxiety, which he disguises with an a i r of condes-cension b e f i t t i n g a B r i t i s h s o l d i e r towards an i n f e r i o r , dependent nation. His i n i t i a l manner towards his glamorous aunt M i l l i e i s also one of masculine condescension which i n fact disguises an inherent fear of women. M i l l i e f l a t t e r s him: His charming aunt had f l i r t e d with him. Andrew had never been f l i r t e d with i n quite t h i s way by an older woman. There came 64 with i t , and with M i l l i e h erself, the f a i n t e s t whiff of wickedness which he laughed to f i n d so a t t r a c t i v e . Women were gay and b e a u t i f u l and he was young* and free (p. 144). Later, when he i s rejected by Prances, M i l l i e becomes a con-s o l a t i o n , an " i n t e r p o l a t i o n " l i k e a broken arm, between him-s e l f and the experience of unhappy love (p. 179)• He accepts her i n c r e d i b l e proposition to educate him i n bed, " i n order to have some action, something to f i l l up the void" (p. 24-5). He goes to her f o r an experience and a transformation. The transformation, however, turns out to be of a d i f f e r e n t nature from that he had anti c i p a t e d ; he becomes impotent i n .her bed. The unmanning process does not stop there. Later, intimidated by her, he becomes impotent to act i n his capacity as a B r i t i s h s o l d i e r . Symbolically t h i s implies perhaps that England i s ultimately defeated by Ireland, i n s p i r i t i f not i n f a c t . For Barney, Ireland i s "a dark place, slow, d i g n i f i e d , and mystical" (p. 92). It i s "holy," Its mystic beauty r e -sides i n the Catholic Church. His love f o r Ireland i s inex-t r i c a b l y mixed with r e l i g i o u s emotions. His love f o r M i l l i e i s also s i m i l a r l y mixed with r e l i g i o u s emotions. She Is the instrument with which he assuages his r e l i g i o u s g u i l t . Having f a i l e d the priesthood because of her, he punishes himself for the f a i l u r e by seeking humiliation at her hands. 65 He assumes the p o s i t i o n of "lackey, or serviceable buffoon" (p. 75) i n her household. He thinks of himself as her "spaniel" (p. 128), "her ass and she should drive him i n harness" (p. 99). M i l l i e accepts his "crawling homage" (p« 75)» c a l l s him "a dear old sheepdog" (p. 126), and r e -gards him as a "pet to fondle and caress"(p. 93)• When angered, she kicks him, upon which he hunches up, "shrinking into himself l i k e a disturbed spider" (p. 89) and then f l e e s "not out of the house but towards the back quarters as i f to take refuge, dog-like i n the kitchen" (p. 89). At his approach to her house, she whistles s h r i l l y f o r him as one does for a dog, c a l l i n g "Come, boy, come boy! ... Good boy, good boy, come, cornel" (p. 75)-M i l l i e ' s treatment of Barney suggests that she plays another a l l e g o r i c a l r o l e i n the novel, that of Circe i n thi s epic history of Ireland. As Christopher sees i t , there i s "an epic splendour always latent i n the tragedy of Ireland" (p. 203)• In t h i s epic, the Easter u p r i s i n g i s the f o c a l point of heroic e x p l o i t s , evoking the exploits of Homeric heroes. Ulysses and his men encounter antagonists who i n -clude b e a u t i f u l women such as Calypso and Circe as well as monsters and cannibals. The test of t h e i r heroism i s no less demanding when challenged by enchantresses as by Cyclops. In t h i s I r i s h epic", the men f i n d that, on the eye of the 66 u p r i s i n g , they must f i r s t test t h e i r strength against the enchantress M i l l i e . It i s because she i s a Circe f i g u r e that only her r e l a t i o n s h i p s with the men and not with the women, are explored i n f u l l . M i l l i e ' s dwelling places suggest Circe's islan d Aeaea, the i s l a n d of Dawn where Ulysses' a r r i v a l i s heralded by a lovely dawn. S i m i l a r l y , M i l l i e ' s house i n Upper Mount Street i s bathed i n the colours of dawn as Andrew sees i t : In the watery sunlight the brick; faqades of Upper Mount Street glowed a rusty pink and yellow, only M i l l i e ' s house, together with one or two others, had been washed over with a powdery red preparation .... The sagging steps up to the door were immaculately reddened to match. Beneath i t s m a g isterial f a n l i g h t the door was a radiant newly painted, rose pink ... (pp. 57-58). Circe's house, b u i l t of dressed stone, stands i n the midst of a c l e a r i n g of f o r e s t , surrounded by oak scrub and trees. M i l l i e ' s estate Rathblane, "b u t t r e s s - l i k e at one end, and smooth and balustraded at the other" (p. 163), also l i e s i n the midst of trees. As Andrew cycles towards i t , he sees innumerable v a r i e t i e s of trees, many of them rare ones, so that boughs of gingko and catalpa and liquidamar, grown into a dense matrix, now concealed the house i n a web of c l o s e l y woven quietness ... (p. 163). The image of the web evokes Penelope, but i s also an a l l u -sion to Circe's loom, on which she i s weaving when Ulysses a r r i v e s . In Circe's i s l a n d , animals, once men, roam, In Rathblane, numerous sheep wander, and i n both of M i l l i e ' s houses, Barney, her "spaniel," lurks. Just as Circe changes men into animals, M i l l i e trans-forms the men who come into her l i f e . Barney's enchantment with her i s " l i k e c e r t a i n kinds of conditioning i n animals" (p. 9 7 ) , which deprives him of human d i g n i t y . Andrew goes to her f o r consolation, and wonders what sort of new person she might make of him, but "whether she might not l i k e Circe change him into a brute i t did not occur to him to wonder" (p. 245). Pat i s seen i n an image of c a p t i v i t y when i n the h a l l of M i l l i e ' s house, he looks up through the "dim cage" (p. 155) of the s t a i r s to fi n d M i l l i e watching him. The imagery used to describe Emma and M i l l i e serves the same function as phys i c a l settings do i n The Sandcastle and The Nice and the Good i n revealing.the enchanter's r o l e s . In The Sandcastle. Bledyard's r o l e as Comus i s not dis c e r n -i b l e when he i s at the school, and Ducane Is not seen as Faust when he i s at Trescombe. Emma and M i l l i e however, are almost always seen i n t h e i r dual roles simultaneously. This technique occurs also In Under the Net. which I s h a l l d i s -cuss i n the next section, i n which Hugo the man i s always 68 seen simultaneously as an a l l e g o r i c a l figure i n Jake's en-chanted eyes. 69 I I I . The Abbess and Hugo Belfounder Like Dorset i n The Nice and the Good, Imber Court i n The B e l l represents an i d e a l balance between the world of form and the contingent world. Its architecture i s P a l l a -dlan, f o r the house was b u i l t by a p u p i l of Inigo Jones. I t i s set i n an estate that i s enclosed by a wall, and at i t s entrance are "two immense globe-surmounted p i l l a r s and t a l l i r o n gates."26 ^ T h e n o u s e i s large, and very pale grey i n colour: With a colourless sky of evening l i g h t behind i t , i t had the washed b r i l l i a n c e of a p r i n t . In the centre of the facade a high pediment supported by four p i l l a r s rose over the l i n e of the roof. A green copper dome curved above. At the f i r s t f l o o r l e v e l the p i l l a r s ended at a balustrade, and from there a p a i r of stone staircases swept i n two great curves to the ground (pp. 27-28). P a l l a d i a n architecture, with i t s combination of C l a s s i c a l and Gothic features, suggests a harmonious mixture of form ( C l a s s i c a l ) and contingency (Gothic). In function, Imber Court i s also intended by the Abbess to represent, a balance, to serve as "a buffer state" (p. 81) between the contempla-t i v e l i f e and the active l i f e of society. As she t e l l s Michael, there are many people who can l i v e neither i n the world nor out of i t , who cannot adjust to the demands of society, but who lack the strength to withdraw from i t ?o completely. The aim of the Imber community is to provide these people with the opportunity to l i v e a successful h a l f -contemplative l i f e , but at the same time enable them, i n other ways, to contribute to society. The vegetable garden at Imber Court i s an example of the l a t t e r . Unfortunately, the inhabitants at Imber Court make the community into a form of consolation. Unable to cope with the muddles of r e a l i t y , they re t r e a t from i t , and at Imber, attempt to organize l i f e into a neat, manageable pattern. Like Kate and Octavian, they create, i n the midst of a har-moniously balanced world, a r i g i d world of form. The many rules they impose on t h e i r day to day l i f e reveal t h e i r earnestness i n s t r i v i n g for a pattern i n t h e i r l i v e s . Rooms are kept bare, work schedules s t r i c t , r i t u a l s of worship austere. Entertainment i s organized'and i t s nature i s seen i n the Bach r e c i t a l during which the Imberites are l i k e people "under a s p e l l " (p. 193) • Their cho'lce of Bach r e -f l e c t s t h e i r desire f o r form. Bach's music belongs to the Baroque school, and i s e s s e n t i a l l y harmonic i n structure. One of i t s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s i s that melodies do not consist of simple phrases, but tend to be more "a pattern of rhythmic f i g u r a t i o n which w i l l continue throughout an entire piece with l i t t l e contrast i n motion." 2? Dora at f i r s t thinks of i t as "hard patterns of sound" (p. 193)- Later, when she 71 learns to accept form, she learns to appreciate t h i s music. Pattern, thus, characterizes Bach's music as i t does l i f e at Imber Court. To the people of Imber Court, the Abbess i s a power-f u l figure whose word Is law. She provides the guidelines by which they l i v e . Her seclusion,.and her rare interviews with people outside enhance her p o s i t i o n as an enchanter, fo r her i n a c c e s s i b i l i t y causes others to fantasize about her. When Michael i s summoned to her, James and Margaret, who have never seen her, "looked at him enviously" (p. 230). Michael considers himself p r i v i l e g e d , f o r he i s the only one at Imber to have met her. From his point of view, she i s "a t a l l f i g u r e " (p. 231)i Her bright, gentle, a u t h o r i t a t i v e , exceedingly i n t e l l i g e n t face, Its long dry wrinkles as i f marked with a f i n e t o o l , the ivory l i g h t from her wimple r e f l e c t e d upon i t , reminiscent of some Dutch painting, reminded him of his mother, so long ago dead (p. 231). Perhaps because of t h i s l a s t f a c t , he f e e l s towards her a "profound a f f e c t i o n ... mingled with respect and awe" (p. 231). For Michael, "who recognized s p i r i t u a l authority when he saw i t " (p. 82), knows that i n the Abbess resides the combination of paradoxical q u a l i t i e s , goodness and power. She i s the head of that "great storehouse of s p i r i t u a l energy across the lake" (p. 112), the Abbey. For him, "the 72 wish of the Abbess was law" (p. 1 1 0 ) . Thus he accepts f i r s t Catherine, then Nick into the community because the Abbess has suggested i t , i n spite of his own misgivings about Nick. He thinks her omniscient, f o r though a recluse, she appears to have thorough knowledge of everything, such as his former r e l a t i o n s h i p with Nick. When i n i t i a l l y , he wishes to confess about t h i s , she does not allow him, though he knows that she " c e r t a i n l y knew his desire to t e l l as well as she doubtless knew a l l that he had to t e l l , and more" .' (p. 8 2 ) . Later, when summoned by her, he i s a f r a i d that what she wishes to t e l l him concerns Toby i He f e l t c e r t a i n that the Abbess must know a l l about Toby. It was i r r a t i o n a l to think t h i s . How could she possibly have found out? Yet i t was astonishing what she knew .... He had not expected t h i s summons. He f e l t as i f he were about to undergo some sort of s p i r i t u a l violence (p. 2 3 0 ) . The Abbess* concern, as i t turns out, i s f o r Nick, a concern which l a t e r events prove to be j u s t i f i e d . The contingent world i s symbolized by the Abbey which i s regarded by the Imberltes as "the powerhouse across the water" (p.. 1 1 7 ) - . It l i e s across the lake from Imber Court, hidden from view by trees, secluded behind "a very high wall b u i l t of small square stones, granite and ironstone" (p. 1 7 5 ) . The Abbey tower i s 73 a square Norman tower. It was an i n s p i r i n g thing, without pinnacles or c r e n e l l a t i o n s , squarely b u i l t of grey and yellowish stone, and decorated on each face by two pairs of round-topped windows, placed one above the other, edged with zigzag carving which at a distance gave a pearly embroidered appearance, and divided by a l i n e of i n t e r l a c i n g arches (p. 63). It i s appropriate that the Abbey should have a Norman tower, for Norman architecture represents a " d r i f t toward the r i c h , the subtle, and the complicated." 2 8 These adjectives describe I r i s Murdoch's view of contingency as well. One d i s t i n c t i v e feature of Norman architecture i s the "thick w a l l " technique, which characterized the o r i g i n a l b u i l d e r s , the invading Northmen, with t h e i r q u a l i t i e s of "ruthlessness, energy, massivenesS, directness and t o t a l organization. " 2 9 Thick walls suggest massive strength, and this_describes the nuns at the Abbey, p a r t i c u l a r l y the Abbess, whose strength i s translated into energy and power, with which she governs the Abbey and the community beside i t . The e f f i c i e n c y and d i r -ectness as well as " t o t a l organization" of the nuns are dem-onstrated i n t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p s with the people at Imber Court. Catherine's attempted suicide i s e f f i c i e n t l y f o i l e d by a nun. The Abbess hers e l f , when the community d i s i n t e g r a t e s , makes the quick d e c i s i o n to disband i t . Imber Court eventually becomes a part o f the Abbey, i n d i c a t i n g perhaps that the strength of the contingent world p r e v a i l s over the world of 74 form. In the contingent world, the Abbess i s an exceptional person i n that she possesses goodness, power, wisdom and knowledge of human nature, and i s able to use these q u a l i t i e s f o r the benefit of other people. Her goodness i s demonstrated i n her compassion f o r the people at Imber. She i s powerful, not only to the Imberites, but within the Abbey, fo r a l l f i n a l decisions rest with her. She i s wise i n her under-standing of man's "various capacities f o r the s p i r i t u a l l i f e . I n order to make the most of one's resources, she says, "we must make use of divine cunning. 'As wise as ser-pents, as harmless as doves'" (p. 81). She i s i n favour of spontaneous demonstration of joy i n the inaugauration of the b e l l , while the Imberites c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a l l y make plans f o r a solemn and no doubt formal and d u l l ceremony. The Abbess' wisdom i s most c l e a r l y shown In her r e l a t i o n s h i p with Michael. In the early stages of the formation of the Imber community, Michael has the overwhelming desire to confess to her his past » It would have eased his heart to have t o l d her everything himself. Yet out of some inscrutable wisdom the Abbess did not ask .for the confession he was so anxious to make, and a f t e r a while Michael'wryly accepted his enforced silence as something to be offered quietly and as a s a c r i -f i c e . .. (p. 82). His wish to confess i s a consolation, an attempt to purge himself of his muddled past so that he may create f o r him-s e l f a better pattern for his future. The abbess knows t h i s as she knows also that such a confession at that par-t i c u l a r time would not help Michael. Consequently, she does not allow him to confess. Later, a f t e r his excursion Into town with Toby, which brings unfortunate r e s u l t s , con-fe s s i o n would have helped ease his emotional turmoil. The Abbess i s apparently aware of t h i s , f o r she says to him, i n an attempt to draw from him a confessionx •I f e e l worried and I'm not quite sure why. I f e e l worried about him (Nick) and I f e e l worried about you. I wonder i f there's anything you'd l i k e to t e l l me?* (p. 23L). Michael, who thinks that the Abbess a c t u a l l y knows a l l about himself and Nick, perversely does not respond, and i s thus unable to benefit from the Abbess' wisdom. As with many of the perceptive enchanters, the Abbess speaks f o r I r i s Murdoch. Her speech to Michael on love Is probably the best expression of I r i s Murdoch's own view of love i 'Often we do not achieve f o r others the good that we Intend; but we achieve something, something that goes on"from our e f f o r t . Good i s an overflow. Where we generously and s i n c e r e l y Intend i t , we are engaged i n a work of creation which may be mysterious 76 even to ourselves -- and because It Is mysterious we may be a f r a i d of i t . But t h i s should not make us draw back. God can a l -ways show us, i f . we w i l l , a higher and a better way; and we can only learn to love by loving. Remember that a l l our f a i l u r e s are ultimately f a i l u r e s i n love. Imperfect love must not be condemned and rejected, but made perfect. The way i s always forward, never back' (p. 235)• The Abbess, the only enchanter who l i v e s i n seclusion, i s paradoxically the most knowledgeable of the ways of the world. "There are some parts of London," Jake says, "which are necessary and others which are contingent."31 The Bounty Belfounder Studio belongs with the l a t t e r kind. It i s " s i t -uated i n a suburb of Southern London where contingency reaches the point of nausea" (p. 139)' The studio i s located between a railway l i n e and a main road, and consists of "a l a b y r i n t h o f b u i l d i n g s " (p. 141). On the s i t e of t h i s contingent world, within the studio, an a r t i f i c i a l c i t y , representing Ancient Rome, i s erected and s i g n i f i c a n t l y collapses l a t e r i n chaos. In t h i s contingent world, which, as I have mentioned e a r l i e r , i s normal r e a l i t y i n t h i s novel, Hugo i s a success-f u l entrepreneur with exotic o r i g i n s . Belfounder i s not his r e a l name, but one which he inherited i n a most bi z a r r e manner. His father had come across i t on a tombstone i n the Cotswolds and had taken I t f o r his own. Some of Hugo's actions are as unusual as the legacy of his name; he 77 habitually attends a cold-cure centre when he f e e l s i n need of a holiday, instead of taking a conventional vacation, he sets a detonator to the f i l m set i n his own studio i n order to escape during a p o l i t i c a l r i o t , he attends another p o l i t -i c a l meeting and has a b r i c k thrown at him. This r e s u l t s i n his h o s p i t a l i z a t i o n . He subsequently leaves the h o s p i t a l by s t e a l i n g away, crawling on a l l fours along the c o r r i d o r , carrying his boots by t h e i r tongues i n his mouth. These strange acts make f o r much comedy as well as contributing to the p o r t r a i t of Hugo as an exotic enchanter f i g u r e . Hugo i s sympathetically portrayed as a confused though i n t e l l i g e n t man whose l i f e seems to be beset by irony. F i r s t he i n h e r i t s an armaments factory at a time when he i s an ardent p a c i f i s t . He turns the factory into one which pro-duces l i g h t s and rockets and himself works as a craftsman i n the making of set pieces. He excels i n t h i s and enjoys the pieces because they are impermanent; they provide an ephem-e r a l spurt of beauty and a momentary pleasure. This, to him, i s the i d e a l of a r t ; pattern and order that dissolve as soon as they are created, into contingency. "No one t a l k s cant about fireworks" (p. 54), he says. He i s i r o n -i c a l l y wrong, fo r his set pieces become popular and greatly i n demand. Furthermore, to his disgust, they are c l a s s i f i e d into s t y l e s . Consequently, he abandons them and turns to 78 film-making. Almost i n spite of himself, he becomes success-f u l and r i c h . This i s i t s e l f i r o n i c f or one who professes* "I don't r e a l l y believe i n private enterprise" (p. 2 2 3 ) . Not only that, his aim i n l i f e , he says, i s "to t r a v e l l i g h t . Otherwise one can never understand anything" (p. 2 2 3 ) ' For t h i s reason, he proceeds to give away a l l he owns. Though Jake regards him as a sage, a "t h e o r e t i c i a n " (p. 59)» Hugo thinks that he'has been "cowardly and muddled" (p. 2 2 3 ) , and that i s why his l i f e has been "a ghastly mess" (p. 2 2 3 ) , "a perfect chaos" (p. 2 2 6 ) . Jake thinks that Anna i s "the sort of g i r l whom Hugo would l i k e l y to love" (p. 8 3 ) , f o r he prefers the "quiet housekeeping types" (p. 6 8 ) . I r o n i c a l l y , Hugo loves Sadie because she i s more I n t e l l i g e n t . Most i r o n i c of a l l , Hugo does not recognize his own ideas i n Jake's written account of t h e i r conversations. S i m i l a r l y , he does not understand that the mime theatre i s Anna's attempt to translate his theory into a r t . The irony that seems to pursue Hugo makes him an appeal-ing character. Like a l o t of people, he too, i s a v i c t i m of fat e . His lack of greed, malice or acquisitiveness,, q u a l i t i e s associated with corrupted man, makes him an innocent. He i s , i n f a c t , l i k e a c h i l d i n his ingenuous at t i t u d e towards the world. To him, "each thing was astonishing, d e l i g h t f u l , com-p l i c a t e d and mysterious" (p. 5 8 ) . In his presence, Jake 79 begins "to see the whole world anew" (p. 5 8 ) . Hugo's ingenuousness i s not unlike Bledyard's, f o r both are unconcerned with self-image or the Impression they make on others. They even resemble each other i n f a c i a l features. Hugo was extremely large, both stout and t a l l , with very wide shoulders and enormous hands. His -huge head was usually sunk low between his shoulders, while his brooding gaze traced around the room or across the countryside a l i n e which lay i n his f i e l d of v i s i o n . He had dark rather matted hair and a b i g shapeless mouth which opened every now and then, emitting a semi-a r t i c u l a t e sound (p. 5 6 ) . . , Bledyard too, has "a great head of dark h a i r " and a mouth that i s "formless and sometimes hung open" (The Sandcastle. p. 71). They are both bachelors who l i v e i n simple and bare bedrooms; Hugo's contains only "an iron bed, rush-bottomed chairs, a chest of drawers and a t i n trunk with a glass of water on top of i t " (p. 92). I t also has neither colour nor pictures,. Hugo and Bledyard are a l i k e i n a t t i t u d e , f o r both believe i n "an objective that does not c l a s s i f y , i n a v i s i o n from which one's desires and needs and patternings are purged. "32 N o t s u r p r i s i n g l y , Wolfe considers Hugo a f a i l u r e as a humanbeing„ as he does Bledyard. He says that though g i f t e d with p h y s i c a l and I n t e l l e c t u a l power, Hugo 80 r a r e l y accomplishes anything aside from d i -vesting himself of his money and his property. At the conclusion of the novel he has only • personal s u f f e r i n g to show for his obje c t i v i t y . 3 3 This i s not an e n t i r e l y f a i r or sensible opinion, f o r Hugo i s successful i n his various endeavours, including his aim "to t r a v e l l i g h t . " At the conclusion of the novel, he recog-nizes that "God i s a task. God i s d e t a i l . I t a l l l i e s close to your hand" (p. 229)• His dec i s i o n to be a watchmaker i s part of t h i s acceptance of l i f e , and i t indicates a p o s i t i v e a t t i t u d e , not "personal s u f f e r i n g . " A most s i g n i f i c a n t s i m i l a r i t y between Hugo and Bled-yard i s that both speak f o r I r i s Murdoch. Hugo has I r i s Murdoch's "nostalgia f o r the p a r t i c u l a r . " Everything to him i s "unutterably p a r t i c u l a r " (p. 80). He notices only d e t a i l s , and never attempts to c l a s s i f y things he seesi It was as i f his v i s i o n were sharpened to the point where even c l a s s i f i c a t i o n was impossible, fo r each thing was seen as absolutely unique. I had the f e e l i n g that I was meeting for the f i r s t time an almost completely t r u t h f u l man. (p. 61). Hugo has no desire to make l i f e into a pattern. He i s w i l l i n g to accept the contingent elements of l i f e . He t e l l s Jake« •Some situations can't be unravelled ... they just have to be dropped. The trouble with you Jake, i s that you want to understand everything 81 sympathetically. It can't be done. One must just blunder on. Truth l i e s i n blunder-ing on' (p. 228). His recognition of contingency i s seen also i n his understand-ing of the unpredictable nature of love. He t e l l s Jake, who cannot understand why he prefers Sadie to Anna: "Jake, you're a f o o l . You know anyone can love anyone, or prefer anyone to anyone" (p. 226). That t h i s i s I r i s Murdoch's view i s evident i n a l l her novels. The world of form i s symbolized not only by a physical s e t t i n g , but by the fantasy world i n which Jake has enclosed himself, which i s revealed as he t e l l s his story, and also by the p h i l o s o p h i c a l concept which Is the cen t r a l metaphor of the novel. P h y s i c a l s e t t i n g i s represented by the mime theatre which i s located i n a brooding self-absorbed sort of house, fronted by a small ragged garden and a wall shoulder high. The house was square, with rows of t a l l windows, and had preserved a remnant of elegance (p. 34). I t s squareness suggests a neat pattern, and i t s self-absorp-t i o n indicates that i t i s a part of a fantasy world. Within l i e s a c h i l d ' s fantasy land, a "vast toy shop" (p. 38)» In my f i r s t glance I noticed a French horn, a rocking-horse, a set of red-striped t i n trum-pets, some Chinese s i l k robes, a couple of r i f l e s , Paisley shawls, teddy bears, glass b a l l s , tangles of necklaces and other jewellery, 82 a convex mirror, a stuffed snake, countless toy animals, and a number of t i n trunks out of which multi-coloured costumes t r a i l e d . Exquisite and expensive playthings lay en-laced with the gimcrack contents of Christmas crackers. I sat down on the nearest seat, which happened to be the back of the rocking-horse, and surveyed the scene (p. 38). In t h i s fantasy world, Jake, l i k e a c h i l d , goes to sleep, secured i n a bear-skin, "I thrust my hands and feet into the bear's paws and l e t the great s n a r l i n g snout f a l l over my forehead. It made a snug sl e e p i n g - s u i t " (p. 47). This c h i l d ' s fantasy world corresponds to Jake's own immaturity as r e f l e c t e d i n his attitude towards l i f e . Unable to perceive r e a l i t y , Jake, to use I r i s Murdoch's words quoted i n Chapter One, sees the world through "a cloud of more or less fantas-t i c r e v e r i e . " Jake has the solipsism of a c h i l d ; he sees himself as the centre of the universe, arid others only In r e l a t i o n to himself. This i s seen i n his view of Flnn» "I count Finn as an inhabitant of my universe, and cannot con-ceive that he has one containing me" (p. 9)- Predictably, Jake wants his l i f e to have form, "I hate contingency. I want everything i n my l i f e to have a s u f f i c i e n t reason" (p. 24). This hatred of contingency indicates that he l i v e s i n a world of form. His point of view i s thus a representation of that world. The t h i r d symbol of the world of form i s that of "under 83 the net." The t i t l e i s taken from Wittgenstein's Tractatus  Logico-Phllosophlcus, a t r e a t i s e on l i n g u i s t i c analysis which i s the p h i l o s o p h i c a l concept that informs the novel. Wittgen s t e i n uses the image of the net to r e f e r to the ideas, con-cepts and language -- the "mechanics," which reveal man's in t e r e s t i n d e f i n i n g himself and his world: Let us imagine a white surface with i r r e g u l a r black spots on i t . We then say that whatever kind of picture these make, I can always approx-imate as c l o s e l y as I wish to the d e s c r i p t i o n of i t by covering the surface with a s u f f i c i e n t f i n e square mesh,' and then saying of every square whether i t i s black or white. In t h i s way I s h a l l have im-posed a u n i f i e d form on the d e s c r i p t i o n of the sur-face. The form i s optional, since I could have achieved the same r e s u l t by using a net with a t r i a n g u l a r or hexagonal mesh. Possibly the use of a t r i a n g u l a r mesh would have made the des c r i p -t i o n simpler: that i s to say, i t might be that • we could describe the surface more accurately with a coarse t r i a n g u l a r mesh than with a f i n e square mesh (or conversely), and so on. The d i f f e r e n t nets correspond to d i f f e r e n t .systems f o r describing the world. Mechanic determines one form of d e s c r i p t i o n of the world by saying that a l l propositions used i n the d e s c r i p t i o n of the world must be obtained i n a given way from a given set of propositions — the axioms of mechanics. I t thus supplies the bricks f o r b u i l d i n g the e d i f i c e of science, and i t says, 'Any b u i l d i n g that you want to erect, whatever i t may be, must somehow be constructed with these b r i c k s , and with these alone.'34 The net thus represents "the picture of r e a l i t y we construct to describe the world."35 i t suggests l i m i t a t i o n , confine-ment, and i s thus an appropriate symbol of the world of form. It i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of Jake that when he sees Hugo at the mime theatre behind a mask, he does not recognize him, n o t i c i n g only a vaguely f a m i l i a r "hulking form" (p. .63) that seems to be that of a "burly simpleton" (p. 36). Jake does not see Hugo, nor anyone else f o r that matter, In I r i s Murdoch's sense, u n t i l the end of the novel. His solipsism i s l i k e that of a c h i l d ' s (he i s s i g n i f i c a n t l y small i n stature), thus i t i s not s u r p r i s i n g that he em-ploys a great deal of f a i r y t a l e imagery i n his story. In his f a i r y - t a l e fantasy, there i s a princess (Anna) who i s described, as f a i r y t a l e princesses generally are, as golden. There i s a witch (Sadie) who i s "a b e a u t i f u l snake" (p. 53)» and whose face has the look of " i n t e l l i g e n t venom" (p. 53)' Seeing her i n the hairdressing establishment, Jake says» The curious fantasy came to me that i f J were to look under the d r i e r at the r e a l face and not at the r e f l e c t i o n I should see there some t e r r i b l e old witch (p. 53 )• There i s n a t u r a l l y , In t h i s f a i r y t a l e , an enchanter, who i s of course Hugo. Jake's enchantment with Hugo began at the cold cure centre where they met. Jake r e a l i z e s , shortly a f t e r they became roommates that he "was closeted with a person of the utmost f a s c i n a t i o n " (p. 57)• Soon afterwards, Jake says»"I was completely under Hugo's s p e l l " (p. 6 l ) . A long period of separation follows, but Jake remains 85 enchanted, f o r the mere mention of Hugo's name "was i t s e l f quite enough to upset me considerably" (p. 68). When he hears Hugo's voice on ttfe telephone, he goes into a complete frenzy. I shouted into the phone and hurled i t down. I tore my hair and cursed at the top of my voice. I stamped up and down the room sc a t t e r i n g the rugs to r i g h t and l e f t . I t took me a good ten minutes to calm down and s t a r t wondering what i t was exactly that I was so upset about. I f e l t that now I must see Hugo at once, i n s t a n t l y , at any cost, within the hour, i f possible. U n t i l I had seen Hugo the world would stand s t i l l . I was not i n the least c l e a r about what I wanted to see Hugo f o r . It was just e s s e n t i a l , that was a l l , and I would be i n anguish u n t i l i t was done (p. 84). Jake a t t r i b u t e s to Hugo a superior i n t e l l e c t u a l power. He thinks that as Hugo i n the past has taught him much, he might now "have a great deal more to teach me" (p. 89). Because Hugo possesses superior power, Jake f e e l s that there i s "a strong tendency i n myself to obey him" (p. 230), and that "I would do whatever he wished. I had to" (p. 231). His enchantment with Hugo, to him, i s beyond his c o n t r o l . A f t e r t h e i r long separation, Jake acknowledges "some fate which I would not r e a d i l y deny was leading me back to Hugo" (p. 69). Hugo, he reasons, "was my destiny" (p. 90), "a sign, a portent, a miracle" (p. 238). The enchanter i n a c h i l d ' s f a i r y t a l e i s often large, . f o r s i z e , i n a c h i l d ' s eyes, i s synonymous with power. Thus, 86 the enchanter i s often the powerful giant. In Jake's story, Hugo's siz e i s frequently emphasized. Jake's f i r s t impression of him was that of "an enormous shaggy personage" (p. 55) who was large, "both stout and t a l l , with very wide shoulders^and enormous hands" (p. 5 6 ) . In Jake's mind, Hugo towers " l i k e a monolith" (p. 238). He imagines Hugo brood-ing over him " l i k e a great b i r d " (p. 2 1 5 ) . Other images of animals are used when Jake thinks of Hugo, fo r Jake has the ch i l d ' s f a s c i n a t i o n f o r animals, p a r t i c u l a r l y large ones. When the set at his f i l m studio collapses, Hugo emerges from the debris " r i s i n g l i k e a surfacing whale" (p. 150). He then makes o f f i n the d i r e c t i o n of the railway, "leaping across the l i n e s l i k e a stampeding b u f f a l o " (p. 50). When Jake f i r s t catches sight of him at Bounty Belfounder Studio, he looks "more than ever l i k e a bear" (p. 148).. Later he makes a noise " l i k e a bear, a mixture of grunting and lum-bering" (p. 2 3 3 ) . The bear image suggests that Hugo possesses great p h y s i c a l and i n t e l l e c t u a l power. The emphasis on Hugo's i n t e l l e c t u a l power is relevant to his other a l l e g o r i c a l r o l e as philosopher, s p e c i f i c a l l y , as the figur e of Wittgenstein i n the world of form symbolized by l i n g u i s t i c a n a l y s i s . Hugo's biography i s remarkably s i m i l a r to that of Wittgenstein. 3'' He has a German ancestry, i s descended from a wealthy family of munitions manufacturers, 8? and i s a bachelor. His preoccupation with language, which evolves into a "philosophy of s i l e n c e , " r e f l e c t s Wittgen-stein's concern with language as the d e f i n i t i o n of r e a l i t y ("the l i m i t s of my language mean the l i m i t s of my world") For Hugo, absolute truth can only be attained i n s i l e n c e , f o r the "whole language i s a machinery f o r making falsehoods" (p. 6 0 ) . He says to Jake: "The language just won't l e t you present i t as i t r e a l l y was" (p. 6 9 ) . Thus, during t h e i r discussions, he i s constantly asking Jake: "What do you mean?" (p. 5 8 ) : What do you mean when you say that you think the meaning In French? I f you see a picture i n your mind how do you know i t ' s a French picture? Or i s i t that you say the French word to yourself? What do you see when you see that the t r a n s l a t i o n Is exactly r i g h t ? Are you imagining what someone else would think, seeing i t f o r the f i r s t . t i m e ? Or i s i t a kind of feeling? What kind of feeling? Can't you describe i t more closely? (p. 5 8 ) . As Annandlne i n Jake's dialogue, Hugo even uses Wittgenstein's image, of the net: A l l t h e o rizing i s f l i g h t . . We must be ruled by the s i t u a t i o n i t s e l f and th i s i s unutterably p a r t i c u l a r . Indeed i t i s something to which we can never get close enough, however hard we may try as i t were to crawl under the net (pp. 8 0 - 8 1 ) . In other words, i t i s d i f f i c u l t to escape the confinement of 88 the net, to free oneself from the "mechanics" — concepts, ideas and language -- which man has constructed to define r e a l i t y , and assess each s i t u a t i o n i n i t s p a r t i c u l a r i t y . Thus Hugo i s reduced to s i l e n c e . A philosophy of s i l e n c e , however, i s obviously impracticable: Hugo i s caught i n a dilemma he cannot resolve. He i s , as I r i s Murdoch c a l l s him, "a sort of non-philosophical metaphysician who i s supposed to be p a r a l y z e d " 3 9 by t h i s kind of c o n f l i c t . The B e l l and Under the Net, though quite d i f f e r e n t i n organization, have i n common an exotic enchanter f i g u r e , who, unlike the enchanters described i n previous sections, Is not seen i n a v a r i e t y of r e l a t i o n s h i p s with several other characters. Though t h i s v i s i o n the reader has of them i s thus l i m i t e d , the roles of the Abbess and Hugo as figures of power are not diminished. For the Abbess 1 actual power and the imagery of power used to describe Hugo quite emphat-i c a l l y set them apart from other characters. 89 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER TWO The Nice and the Good (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1969)> P• 47. A l l subsequent references are to this e d i t i o n . p "Allusions i n the Early Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, 1 969 ) , 368. 3"The Sublime and the Beautiful R e v i s i t e d , " 257. ^ I b i d . , 268 . Cf E l i o t : "The progress of an a r t i s t i s a continual s e l f - s a c r i f i c e , a continual e x t i n c t i o n of person-a l i t y , " and Joyce: "The a r t i s t , l i k e the God of creation,. remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, i n v i s i b l e , refined out of existence, i n d i f f e r e n t , paring his f i n g e r n a i l s . " 5 I b i d . , 270 . 6 I b l d . , 270 . ?De grees of Freedom, p. 107* -8The D i s c i p l i n e d Heart: I r i s Murdoch and Her Novels (Columbia, Missouri: University of Missouri Press, 1 9 66 ) , p. 104. ^Frazer, The Golden Bough. Chapter One, pp. 1-11. l ^ I n Gertrude Jobes* Dictionary of Mythology. Folklore  and Symbols (New York: The Scarecrow Press Inc., 1962), I I , pp. 9 80 - 981 . " L e f t " i s described as the i n f e r i o r or unlucky side, symbolizing age, decay and weakness. It i s also the, s i n i s t e r side, and the side of sev e r i t y . ^ J o s eph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces (New York; Meridian Books, 1956), p. 90 . : ' 1 2 I b i d . , p. 90 . 1 3"The Sovereignty of Good Over Other Concepts," p. 93. Rubin Rabinovltz, I r i s Murdoch (Columbia Essays on Modern Writers, No. 34, New York; Columbia University Press, 1968), p. 4 3 . 90 Frederick J . Hoffman, "The Miracle of Contingency'» The Novels of I r i s Murdoch." Shenandoah. 17, no. 1 (1965), 49 . ^ J o h n P. Sedgewick J r . , Art Appreciation Made Simple (New York: Doubleday and Co. Inc., 1 9 59 ) , P« 8 5 . See also Arnold Hauser, The S o c i a l History of Art (London: Routledge. and Kegan Paul, 1962), I I , p. 90 , who says of mannerism: "It i s impossible to understand mannerism If one does not grasp the fa c t that i t s im i t a t i o n of c l a s s i c a l models i s an escape from the threatening chaos, and that the subjective overstraining of i t s forms i s the expression of the fear that form might f a i l i n the struggle with l i f e and a r t fade Into soulless beauty." 1?The D i s c i p l i n e d Heart, PP. 1 70 -172 . l 8Graves, The Greek Myths, I, p. 178. Dickens uses s i m i l a r images, though evoking a much more s i n i s t e r p icture, to describe Uriah Heep i n David Coooerfield: Uriah's fing e r i s " l i k e a s n a i l , " he writhes with "snaky twistings," his hand i s . " l i k e a f r o g , " and he and his mother are " l i k e two great bats." " 1 9 I b l d . , I, p. 66 . 2 0 I b l d . . I, p. 66 and I, p. 124. 2 1The Red and the Green (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., I 9 6 7), P• 7• A l l subsequent references are to th i s e d i t i o n . ^Warner Berthoff, "Fortunes of the Novel: Muriel Spark and I r i s Murdoch." Massachusetts Review. 8 (Spring, 1 9 67 ) , 325, 2 3 P e t e r Kemp, "The Fight Against Fantasy: I r i s Murdoch's Rec ), 24r The d and the Green." Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, 1 9 6 9  406 . " ~ ~ : ~ ~ : ••Graves, The Greek Myths. I I , p. 358, and Homer, The  Odyssey. trans. E.V. Rieu (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1969), P. 159 . . 25Homer, The Odyssey, p. 159 . 2 6The B e l l (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1 9 62 ) , p. 27 . A l l subsequent references are to t h i s e d i t i o n . 91 ^Douglas Moore, A Guide to Musical Styles (rev. ed., New York: W.W. Norton and Co. Inc., 1962), p. 43. 28P.e'ter Kidson and Peter Murray, A History of English  Architecture (London: George Harrap and Co.Ltd., 1962), P. 57. 29 S edgewick, Art Appreciation Made Simple, p. 39. 30sharon Kaehele and Howard German, "The Discovery of Rea l i t y i n I r i s Murdoch's The B e l l . " P M L A. 82 (Dec, 1967), 562. plunder the Net (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., i960), p. 24. A l l subsequent references are to t h i s e d i t i o n . 3 2Byatt, Degrees of Freedom, p. 66. 33The D i s c i p l i n e d Heart, p. 49. 34;Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Phllosophicus, trans. D.F. Pears and.B.F. McGuiness (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, ,196!), 6.341, pp. .137, . 139. 35Rabinovitz, I r i s Murdoch, p. 11. 3^Wolfe, The D i s c i p l i n e d Heart, p. 49. According to Joseph Campbell i n The Masks of God: P r i m i t i v e Mythology (New York: Viking Press, 1972), pp. 334-336, i n Ainu-myth-ology, the bear i s a divine v i s i t o r . Thus, Jake's f e e l i n g of security when tucked into the bearskin (Under the Net, p. 47), i s that of being i n the protection of divine power. 37German, "Allusions i n the Early Novels of I r i s Murdoch, 362. 3 8Tratatus Loglco-Philosophlcus. 5, 6, p. 115• 39Kermode, "The House of F i c t i o n , " 62. CHAPTER THREE THE ENCHANTER FIGURE IN "CLOSED" NOVELS I. Maggie. Hannah Crean-Smlth and Carel Fisher. In the "open" novels discussed i n the previous chapter, society at large appears i n the background. There i s a sense of ordinary, everyday l i f e e x i s t i n g outside of the worlds of the novels. In The Sandcastle. this Is seen i n the p o l i t i c a l lecture that Mor gives to the townspeople, a reminder that there i s a larger society outside St. Bride's School and the wood. In The Nice and the Good, there are descriptions of London streets and suburban houses. In An U n o f f i c i a l Rose, there are scenes i n I t a l y , talks of travels to India and Turkey, London g a l l e r i e s . The National Gallery plays an im-portant r o l e i n The B e l l , which also has descriptions of London st r e e t s , and a tavern i n the neighbouring town of Imber. Scenes of pub-crawling i n London,'swimming i n the Thames, a hairdressing establishment and suspicious neigh-bours indicate that the world of Under the Net, as b e f i t t i n g that of a picaresque novel, is very much a part of London l i f e . The Easter r e b e l l i o n i s the c e n t r a l event of The Red  and the Green. As t h i s i s a r e a l h i s t o r i c a l novel i n which act u a l people and occurrences are described, society at 92 93 large i s ever present. This sense of belonging to a society at large i s not present i n a l l of the ''closed.** novels. In the three novels discussed i n thi s section, ordinary l i f e i s hardly discern-i b l e . The worlds of these novels appear i s o l a t e d ; l i f e out-side i s , at the most, only hinted at. The s e t t i n g of The I t a l i a n G i r l i s Northern England, but i t could have been the north of anywhere, since the s i g -n i f i c a n c e of Its lo c a t i o n i s symbolic rather than a c t u a l . "North" i s used to suggest coldness and remoteness from l i f e , a condition that r e f l e c t s Edmund's a t t i t u d e . L i f e outside the Narraway estate i s not described. I t i s mentioned vaguely that there i s an I t a l i a n community i n the town i n which Maggie dispenses charitable acts, and there are t a l k s , between Maggie and Edmund, of I t a l i a n c i t i e s . These are the only reminders that the world of The I t a l i a n G i r l i s hot t o t a l l y i s o l a t e d . The world of form i n this novel i s represented by Ed-mund's point of view, as I t i s by Jake's i n Under the Net. Edmund, l i k e Jake, has created f o r himself a patterned world of form In order to protect himself against contingency, which he fears. He says: "I have always been a f r a i d of the dark and of things that happen i n the dark."l Later, he speaks of the "foxy darkness" (p. 13) of the h a l l . Darkness i s , of course, a symbol of contingency, f o r i t suggests mystery. 94 Edmund has created a l i f e of form for himself, "simple, s o l i t a r y 1 ' (p. 2 3 ) . His profession expresses his desire for form. He i s a wood-engraver, p r a c t i t i o n e r of an a r t which "may be deep but i t i s narrow" (p. 23). It i s with delight that he "transferred to the precious small surface of the wooden block many scenes, f i g u r e s , objects that I saw or imagined" (pp. 23-24). This indicates his desire to organize l i f e into the confined spaces represented by l i t t l e blocks. In Edmund's world of form, Maggie i s a mother figure whom he takes for granted. On his homecoming, he confuses her with a l l the other I t a l i a n g i r l s who have served his family. She seems to be, not an i n d i v i d u a l , but the person-i f i c a t i o n of "a series of G u i l i a s and Gemmas and V i t t o r i a s and Car i o t t a s " (p. 18). In appearance she i s nondescript. Dressed always i n an "anonymous black dress" (p. 70), — — u n t i l she becomes an heiress she i s a "small dark f i g u r e " (p. 19) with a "pale framed face" (p. 19) and a "long bun of black hair t r a i l i n g back l i k e a waxen p i g t a i l " (p. 1 9 ) . She i s even without a voice, "the et e r n a l l y s i l e n t , superior servant" (p. 116), u n t i l halfway through the novel. She i s unassuming i n behaviours the "true house-serf" (p. 95) who performs a l l the menial tasks for the family, cooking, washing, sewing, serving. An i n d i c a t i o n of her near-anonymity Is Edmund's de s c r i p t i o n of those present at his mother's funeral. They 95 are Otto, Isabel, Flora and Levkin, and "that comdeted our \ . , • • party, except f o r Maggie, of course" (p. 23) • Maggie i s a mere afterthought, not an i n d i v i d u a l s i g n i f i c a n t enough to be reckoned as a person. Maggie's i n i t i a l anonymity i s consistent with her r o l e as mother figure i n the Narraway household. To young children mother i s not a separate person, but simply someone there to f u l f i l l t h e i r needs. Maggie Is regarded thus by members of the family. Otto remembers, though erroneously, being pushed i n his pram by her. Edmund says: "I had always had, as i t were, two mothers, my own. mother and the I t a l i a n g i r l " (p. 18). Though she i s taken for granted by a l l , they assume nevertheless that she loves them, an assumption Edmund l a t e r r e a l i z e s may be u n j u s t i f i e d : Yet at the same time I could not stop assum-ing that Maggie - well, that Maggie loved us. It struck me now that I t was a rather large assumption and also somewhat unclear (p. 132). At his stage of.his development he i s able to question this assumption for he i s beginning to see her as a separate person Maggie i s the mother figure who provides maternal com-f o r t f o r Edmund i n his unfortunate brushes with experience. When emotionally disturbed by Isabel and F l o r a , he seeks refuge i n the kitchen, Maggie's domain, where she i s washing Otto's underwear; 96 I sat. down to watch, f e e l i n g with a mixture of shyness and f a m i l i a r i t y included i n the scene, comfortably Included i n her con-sciousness although she ... had scarcely looked i n my d i r e c t i o n (p. 113). To be included i n mother's consciousness i s of prime impor-tance to a c h i l d . As a mother f i g u r e , Maggie i s put on a pedestal by Edmund. She i s to him "a chaste f i g u r e , now more l i k e a pri e s t e s s than a nun, a keen severe l i t t l e p r i e s t e s s " (p. 118), and "a dark, s l i g h t tutelary goddess" (p. 133). Signs of an Oedipus complex are Obviously present here. As he matures emotionally, Edmund gradually becomes aware of Maggie as an i n d i v i d u a l . The f i r s t sign of recognition occurs when he sees her thus: Her pale bony face had a rather damp denuded look and her. large dark severe eyes wer.e a l i t t l e dewy from the onion (she i s cooking). A strong arabesque at the n o s t r i l s was echoed i n the curve of the long t h i n mouth. I t was a f i e r c e , i n t e l l i g e n t yet unprotected face. Her copious hair, pulled harshly back, f e l l In the long looped bun, black as onyx, shiny as lacquer. She wore no makeup (p. 95). Later, when she acquires an inheritance, "she was no longer i n v i s i b l e " (p. 133). She has also acquired "an e x t e r i o r " (p. 133)» Edmund sees a young woman entered, wearing a red dress. The short black hair had been expertly clipped, the serious dark eyes stared from a lean and youthful face (p. 133). • 97 S t i l l l a t e r , when Edmund r e a l i z e s that he i s i n love with her her features assume the beauty of a r t : The beam of l i g h t f e l l across her breast and above i t I saw the pale bony large-eyed face and the cap of glossy black hair. It was an old face, a new face, a boy by T i t i a n , the maid of my childhood (p. 166). She becomes then "Maria," an i n d i v i d u a l , a unique, separate person, no longer Maggie, the embodiment of a l l the other I t a l i a n g i r l s . Maggie i s "Maria," second Eve, mother of mankind i n the contingent world of the novel. On t h i s l e v e l of r e a l i t y , the contingent world i s represented by the Narraway estate i n which the story of Adam and Eve i s symbolically re-enacted The estate, l i k e the Garden of Eden, i s a place of "extreme beauty" (p. 4-7), consisting of a profusion of vegetation, a large v a r i e t y of birches, bamboos, camellas, "a r i o t of wild flowers and grasses" (p. 4-7). There i s , i n the immense garden, a l i t t l e mountalny stream of cl e a r brown water s p i l t over the f a r boundary i n a long cascade, obedient to the w i l l of some long-dead land-scape gardener. The stream meandered for nearly a quarter of a mile between high slopes of cam-e l l a s and dense thickets of bamboos before i t ' b r i e f l y touched the lawn and turned away to flow under the i r o n bridges into the town. The camelia bushes, indeed most of them were by now trees, unkept and running wild, had grown into an almost impenetrable tangle of implicated vegetation. The course of the stream was marked by the greener l i n e of bamboo, while high up above a .birch grove led away into the open country. For us childr e n i t had formed a vast region of romance (p. 2 9 ) . Further along the course of the stream the birches and conifers had receded here to-ward the top of the h i l l and t h e i r place was taken by the bamboo which fringed the water and the shrubby tangle of the camelias which clothed the slopes. The bamboos had Invaded the stream now, t h e i r s t r a i g h t strong stems grouped i n the w a t e r • i t s e l f , while the stream, more choked than ever with i t s debris of round gray stones, meandered a b l a c k i s h brown under the sun-tinged arches. The w a t e r f a l l d i s t a n t l y murmured. A r i o t of wild flowers and grasses had covered the bank and made the path i n v i s i b l e and a l l but impassable. The jumble of campion and ragged robin gave place to b r i a r s and ground elder ... (p. 4?). These descriptions convey the impression of nature l e f t .-to grow unchecked. In t h i s Eden, Edmund learns to accept contin gency. When he leaves i t , he i s , l i k e Adam i n Paradise Lost, equipped with knowledge to face l i f e outside. It i s Maggie, the Eve of t h i s Eden, who leads Edmund to knowledge. His recognition of her as a separate being evokes the creation of Eve i n Book Eight of Paradise Lost* I rubbed my eyes. I d i d not want to have, yet, so many thoughts .... I saw her now, a g i r l , a stranger, and yet the most f a m i l i a r person i n the world» my I t a l i a n g i r l , and yet the 99 f i r s t woman, as strange as Eve to the dazed awakening Adam. She was there, sep-arat e l y and a u t h o r i t a t i v e l y there (r»p. 170-171). She represents l i g h t to Edmund, as Eve does to Adam. Her room i s l i k e "a dazzling sun" (p. 115) where she stands, by the window, " l o s t i n the sunlight" (p. 165). There i s present, as an obvious reference to the Adam and Eve story, a d i s h of apples from which Edmund, a vegetarian, helps himself. He sees her for a moment, but only f o r a moment, as a temptress. Then, "I took the apple from my pocket and began to eat i t " (p. 17D» thus committing himself to l i f e . He leaves Eden with Maggie, l i k e Adam and Eve with "the World before them," towards the south, where there i s warmth and l i f e . As mother figure and Eve, Maggie, It would seem, i s meant to be a sympathetic character. Wolfe, i n f a c t , con-slders her the essence of goodness. She has for years given herself to serving others, performing menial chores with humility. Her humility i s underlined by Edmund's image of h e n "With her l i t t l e black feet, she seemed l i k e a l i t t l e donkey" (p. 28). The emphasis on " l i t t l e " suggests that she i s unassuming i n her good works. She also lends money to Flo r a f o r an abortion, presumably because Flora begs her. F l o r a reacts ungratefully, by attacking Maggie with a p a i r 100 of s c i s s o r s and c u t t i n g o f f her hair. During this hyster-i c a l act, Flora accuses her of having had "a h o r r i b l e , h o r r i b l e thing with Lydia. I t was beastly and i t made the whole house horrible'' (p. 123). Maggie's "severed h a i r " (p. 123) unravels on the table, where i t i s dropped by F l o r a , "into a black snake" (p. 123). The imagery here evokes another enchanter, Honor K l e i n (A Severed Head). This a l l u s i o n i s further underlined by Edmund's descriptions I t must have seemed a strange scenes Fl o r a now l i f t i n g the severed hair with an almost r i t u a l gesture, Maggie metamorphosed into some quite other being, hiding her face as i f from the gaze of the Medusa ... (pp. 123-124). The Medusa i s the predominant image In the d e s c r i p t i o n of Honor, as I s h a l l discuss i n the next section. This f e a r f u l f i g u r e does not suggest the essence of goodness, and Maggie's asso c i a t i o n with i t Implies an element of ambiguity In her character, i n spite of her mother-figure r o l e . The s e t t i n g of The Unicorn i s an Isolated and indeter-minate l o c a t i o n , remote from c i v i l i z a t i o n . Though accessible by t r a i n and car, i t s geographical r e l a t i o n s h i p to London, where Marian and Effingham o r i g i n a t e , i s unclear. This vagueness of l o c a t i o n emphasizes i t s nearly complete i s o -l a t i o n from society. The only hints that there Is a larger world outside l i e i n the l e t t e r s Marian and Effingham receive, 101 the occasional airplane that f l i e s by, and the rumour that Hannah's husband Peter l i v e s i n New York. The normal l e v e l of r e a l i t y i n t h i s novel i s the con-tingent world, which i s symbolized by the foreboding land-scape which Marian terms "extreme," and "sublime rather than b e a u t i f u l " (p. 84), consisting of great c l i f f s of black sandstone. In the hazy l i g h t they seemed brownish now, receding i n a series of huge buttresses as f a r as eye could see, s t r i a t e d , perpendicular, immensely l o f t y , descending sheer into a b o i l i n g white surge (p. 11). I t i s an i n t r a c t a b l e landscape, having i n i t a bog In which Effingham nearly drowns and a geological wonder, the dolmen. Seeing i t f o r the f i r s t time, Marian i s overcome by an appalling c r i p p l i n g panic .... She feared the rocks and the c l i f f s and the grotesque dolmen and the ancient secret things (p. 1 5 ) . The sea i n t h i s landscape i n s t i l l s her with the same sense of panic. On her way to swim i n i t , she finds that "her heart was beating very hard" (p. 3 1 ) , and that the black wall of the c l i f f rose sheer beside her, g l i s t e n i n g a l i t t l e and seeming to over-hang. The sun beat d i r e c t l y upon i t but i t s darkness hung l i k e a shadow overhead. The beach too was black, with g r i t t y sand at the base of the c l i f f , and black pebbles at the water's edge. Marian had never been a f r a i d 102 of the sea. She did not know what was the matter with her now .... She found i t suddenly hard to breathe, and had to stop and take deep regular breaths (p. 32). Marian i s not alone i n her fear of this contingent world, Hannah refuses to venture into i t . Her fear of th i s world, together with her strange pattern of behaviour, suggest that she i s a neurotic. B e a u t i f u l and r i c h and su f f e r i n g from g u i l t for having attempted to murder her husband seven years previously, she l i v e s i n self-imprisonment, surrounded by a group of companions who are' enchanted with her condition. Her home i s Gaze Castle, which symbolizes the world of form. Like the mime theatre i n Under the Net. Gaze Castle i s a "big self-absorbed house" (p. 30), a big grey forbidding house with a cren- , a l l a t e d facjade and t a l l thin windows which . g l i t t e r e d now with l i g h t from the sea. The house had been b u i l t of the l o c a l limestone and reared i t s e l f out of the landscape, rather l i k e the dolmen, belonging and yet not belong-ing (p. 15). I t i s a world of fantasy, l i k e that of a story. The word "story" indeed, i s i n s i s t e d upon i n the des c r i p t i o n of l i f e within: Pip i s "the dupe of the story" (p. 224), Hannah her-s e l f i s "a story" (p. 91), a " s p i r i t u a l adventure story" (p. 99) for Effingham, one that he does not wish to end. When to l d of Hannah's imprisonment Marian wonders: 103 'Why have I come?* ... Her own place i n the story occurred to her f o r the f i r s t time. The ghastly tale had become a r e a l i t y a l l about her, i t was s t i l l going on. And i t was a t a l e i n which nothing happened at random (pp. 65-66). Elsewhere, l i f e at Gaze i s c a l l e d "a tragedy" (p. 268), "the play" (p. 253), "a comedy by Shakespeare" (p. 209). The inhabitants at Gaze are the "dramatis personae" (p. 105). The metaphor, of the stage, In f a c t , closes the novel. As Effingham leaves Gaze, he thinks of himself as the angel who drew the curtain upon the mystery, remaining himself outside i n the great l i g h t e d auditorium, where the c l a t t e r of departure and the sound of ordinary talk was coming now to be heard (p. 270). On this symbolic l e v e l of r e a l i t y , i n which l i f e at Gaze i s a story, the "story" has a medieval s e t t i n g . Hence the enchanter i n i t resembles a heroine from medieval romances The medieval atmosphere of th i s story i s emphasized when Marian says t "We're not l i v i n g i n the Middle Ages" (p. 60), only to be contradicted by Denis, who sayst "We are here" (p. 60). In her appearance, Hannah i s "golden," the colour of medieval heroines. Her hair i s "reddish gold" (p. 23), her face a "golden-eyed face" (p. 53)» and she even wears a gold chain around her neck. Like medieval l a d i e s , she l i v e s i n a c a s t l e , has an absent husband/lord, and a number of 104 r e t a i n e r s , c h i e f l y male. Her att i t u d e towards them i s med-i e v a l . She regards Denis as her "page" and looks on with o "feudal i n d i f f e r e n c e " (p. 41) as he cuts her hair. This p a r t i c u l a r scene has a r e l i g i o u s Implication. I t suggests that Hannah i s " p r i e s t l y - r u l e r " and Denis the p r i e s t , who alone i s allowed to cut her hair, since only he can stand the contact with the taboo. J Hannah r e c a l l s another heroine of a story with a med-i e v a l s e t t i n g , the Lady of Shalott, who, s i g n i f i c a n t l y , symbolizes the world of fantasy. Like Tennyson's i l l - f a t e d heroine, Hannah i s under a curses she believes that she w i l l die i f she ventures outside her c a s t l e , a b e l i e f that even-t u a l l y becomes a r e a l i t y . She i s also, l i k e the Lady, "much given to looking at herself In mirrors" (p. 43). This suggests a preference f o r the image of r e a l i t y rather than r e a l i t y i t s e l f , and also for narcissism. Like her " s e l f -absorbed house," she is. self-absorbed. Self-absorption i s an enemy of love, i n I r i s Murdoch's ethic s , and thus i t i s an enemy of freedom. Hannah's self-imprisonment symbolizes an imprisonment by fantasy; her l i f e i s thus a "story." As a medieval heroine i n thi s story, Hannah i s appro-p r i a t e l y the object of Courtly Love. The "questing knight," however, i s the Improbable Effingham Cooper to whom she i s "the c a s t l e p e r i l o u s " (p. 71), his Beatrice" (p. 172), "an 105 image of God" (p. 2 6 5 ) , and who i s "shut up, reserved and sequestered" (p. 73), "a chaste mother goddess, the v i r g i n mother" (p. 233) - the Oedipus complex looms l a r g e l y here. To him, Hannah i s not a r e a l person, but an object i n his fantasy, a s u i t a b l e heroine i n his "adventure story" (p. 99). S t o r i e s , however, are not r e a l , and the most unreal s t o r i e s are f a i r y tales i n which improbable things happen . and are accepted by the characters i n them as p e r f e c t l y natural occurrences. L i f e at Gaze In t h i s sense i s " l i k e a f a i r y t a l e " (p. 214). The s t e r i l e d a i l y routine, the ex-cessive drinking and sleeping, f u r t i v e conversations and sexual perversions, are not a c t i v i t i e s of a normal household, but they are accepted by Marian, the newcomer, with l i t t l e wonder. Furthermore, th i s l i f e has gone on for seven years, e a f a i r y t a l e number, as Marian herself remarks (p. 64). In t h i s f a i r y t a l e , Hannah i s the b e a u t i f u l princess of the en-chanted c a s t l e who i s under the domination of the beast (Gerald). Hannah's habitual expression i s "dreamy," as though she i s i n a semi-conscious state. This evokes the Sleeping Beauty, who i s under the s p e l l of the bad f a i r y . There are many references to her Sleeping Beauty r o l e . Effingham sees the bees and birds around Gaze as "creatures 106 round the castle of the sleeping beauty" (p. 104). Marian, while waiting for Effingham to kidnap Hannah, thinks that i t i s the " l a s t drowsy moment for the sleeping beauty" (p. 144). Later, Pip says to Hannah that he Is "waiting f o r you to wake up .. . . Come, move, act, before you f a l l asleep again" (p. 223). References to waking and sleeping occur with s i g n i f i -cant frequency, r e i n f o r c i n g the idea that l i f e at Gaze i s a fantasy, l i k e a dream as well as a story. The preamble to dreaming i s sleeping, a much-favoured a c t i v i t y at Gaze Castle. The i n c r e d i b l e amount of sleeping, as well as the poem of Alcman about sleep that Max quotes to Effingham, suggest that l i f e at Gaze i s indeed "a s i n i s t e r enchanted s i e s t a " (p. 103). The "story" then, i s also a dream, and Hannah, the enchanter, i s the "provoker of dreams" (p. 136), the " d i s -penser of dreams'" (p. 266), whose "many shadows f e l l round her i n the fantasies of others" (p. 136). The people around Hannah seem to be a l l part of a dream Hannah's dream. After having given herself to Gerald, she t e l l s Marians Ah, Marian, i t i s possible to go on and on and to s u f f e r , to pray and to meditate, to impose on oneself a d i s c i p l i n e of the greatest a u s t e r i t y , and f o r a l l t h i s to be nothing, to be a dream (p. 218). 107 Dreams sooner or l a t e r disappear; r e a l i t y asserts i t s e l f upon ai\Takenlng. When f i r s t t o l d of Hannah's story, Marian asks:"Oughtn't she be wakened up?" (p. 65). Not r e c e i v i n g cooperation from the people at Gaze, she formulates a plan herself, with the reluctant help of Effingham. She r e a l i z e s , however, that the plan could r e s u l t i n violence which w i l l produce the "vanishing of the dream" (p. 141), and thus "the end of the legend" (p. 141). Central to t h i s idea of sleep-ing, dreading and awakening i s the song Denis sings at the musical evening, a song consisting of the r e f r a i n , "awaken, my blackbird, awaken, awaken" (p. 138). Like dreams, f a i r y tales and romances, legends are a source of f a s c i n a t i o n . In another r o l e as the unicorn of the medieval allegory, Hannah i s thus a source of f a s c i n a t i o n fo r others. The unicorn i s the symbol of purity, "the image of C h r i s t " (p. 98). I t i s thus that Denis views her. To him, she i s a r e l i g i o u s person who has f a i t h , l i k e the holy nuns i n convents. He therefore discourages Marian from d i s -turbing her "calm," b e l i e v i n g that her way of l i f e ( s e l f -imprisonment) i s a sign of her obedience to God. She sym-bolizes for him the C h r i s t i a n experience of g u i l t and pain. His enchantment with.her arises from his own r e l i g i o u s tem-perament . The unicorn, however, i s an ambiguous symbol, for i t 108 i s also regarded, i n some sources, as wild and untameable, and i s thus the symbol of profane love.**' This i n t e r p r e t a t i o n explains V i o l e t Evercreech's view of Hannah. To V i o l e t , she i s not a r e l i g i o u s person, but "a woman i n f i n i t e l y capable of crimes" (p. 223), an adulteress and a murderer. The unicorn as a vulnerable, harmless and s p i r i t u a l f i g u r e i s Marian's view of Hannah. She sees Hannah as a romantic f i g u r e , a fey, b e a u t i f u l young woman who i s psycho-l o g i c a l l y paralyzed and who must be rescued. At the same time, Marion Is under the enchanter's s p e l l . When Hannah says that she i s thinking of sending them a l l away, Marian i s a f f e c t e d : The enchantment i s beginning again. The f i r s t words of the s p e l l were being hoarsely murmured; and i t was the more t e r r i f y i n g since Marian r e a l i z e d obscurely but at once that this was a f a r stranger and dangerous s p e l l than the old one. This was a s p e l l which had absorbed the old one; i t was a higher, more majestic, more t e r r i b l e s p e l l . She almost wanted, l i k e someone i n the presence of a moving, whispering enchanter, to freeze Hannah to stone before her own wits should be stolen away (p. 218). Symbolically, Marian plays the r o l e of the v i r g i n on whose lap the unicorn lays i t s head. But the v i r g i n leads I t to the hunters who then k i l l l t . ~ * Marian, whom Hannah t r u s t s , does i n fa c t lead Hannah to her death. Each of the enchanted sees Hannah as an enchanter 109 according to his or her own temperament, and the c l a s s i c a l scholar Max i s no exception. She represents to him the Platonic concept of Ate. He explains Ate thus i •Ate i s the name of almost automatic transfer of s u f f e r i n g from one being to another. Power i s a form of Ate. The victims of power, and any power has i t s victims, are themselves i n -fected. They have then to pass i t on, to use power on others .... And i t i s i n the good that Ate i s f i n a l l y quenched, when i t encounters a pure being who only suffers and does not attempt to pass the s u f f e r i n g on' (pp. 98-99)• Hannah, he says, i s t h e i r Ate, t h e i r scapegoats "She i s our image of the si g n i f i c a n c e of s u f f e r i n g " (p. 98). Ate, however, i s the goddess of inf a t u a t i o n , who blinds men to the conse-quences of t h e i r actions.^ Infatuation i s a form of fantasy i n I r i s Murdoch's world, for l i k e romantic and courtly love, i t prevents one from perceiving r e a l i t y . " Hannah, as the goddess of inf a t u a t i o n , blinds others to r e a l i t y . Her passiveness and moral i n e r t i a serve as encouragement to others to fantasize about her. Her name, a palindrome, 7 suggests d u p l i c i t y or ambiguity. Max, who has never met her, recognizes his own enchantment, for he r e a l i z e s that she Is also an "ordinary g u i l t y person" (p. 98). To Effingham he. says i •I may be s u f f e r i n g from my own form of what you c a l l romanticism. The tru t h about her 110 may be quite other. She may be just a sort of enchantress, a Circe, a s p i r i t u a l Penelope keeping her suitors spellbound and enslaved' (p. 9 9 ) . As an enchanter, Hannah i s c e r t a i n l y the most danger-ous kind, "a dispenser of dreams" who does not d i s p e l others' fantasy, but fosters i t . Wolfe c a l l s her "a demoralizing Q force" because she prevents the formation of d i r e c t r e -lationships among the others. Too passive to be considered an e v i l person, she i s merely morally ambiguous. The gold Imagery surrounding her emphasizes her ambivalence. Thus, she i s , i n the f i n a l pages of the novel, "a b e a u t i f u l pale vampire f l u t t e r i n g at his (Effingham's) night window"(p. 268), "a L i l i t h " (p. 268), both ambiguous f i g u r e s . The s e t t i n g of The Time of the Angels, though i n London, i s as remote and i s o l a t e d as that of The Unicorn. L i t t l e i s * seen of l i f e i n London, except i n rare glimpses of Norah Shadox-Brown's warm and cheerful room, and even that cannot be considered representative of society at large. Normal r e a l i t y i n t h i s novel i s also the contingent world, symbol-ized by the r i v e r near the rectory; Here the fog seemed l i g h t e r i n colour and s l i g h t l y less dense as i f i t dreamed that somewhere the sun shone. Muriel could see f i f t e e n to twenty yards of swift flowing water, a dark luminous amber, which was whisking along with i t a strewing of wood fragments and long weeds resembling h a i r . Again very near a fog horn sounded and I l l Muriel f e l t the same emotion of which she could not say whether i t was fear or love.° Like Hannah, Carel refuses to venture out into t h i s world, p r e f e r r i n g to shut himself up i n his rectory. On the l e v e l of this r e a l i t y , Carel i s also a neurotic, a man on the verge of insanity, i f not already insane. He i s a minister who has l o s t his f a i t h and his hold on r e a l i t y , and has completely withdrawn into his own world. He shows many symptoms of mental i n s t a b i l i t y ; he i s a n t i - s o c i a l , he refuses a l l v i s i -tors and does not leave his house, he suffers from h a l l u -cinations, frequently seeing non-existent animals, p a r t i c u -l a r l y of the black, darting v a r i e t y . He throws paper darts at P a t t i e from the top of the s t a i r s and dances alone i n his dark room to music by Tschalkovsky, notably "Swan Lake" and "The Nutcracker Suite," both of which he'plays incessantly. His fondness f o r Tschalkovsky•s music i s important. Tschai-kovsky's music i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a l l y emotional, expressing his own state of mind, for he belongs to the romantic school of music. 1 0 This subjective form.of a r t i s t i c creation i s one that I r i s Murdoch has c a l l e d an " i n t r u s i o n of fantasy, the assertion of s e l f , the dimming of any r e f l e c t i o n of the r e a l w o r l d . " 1 1 Carel's fondness for Tschalkovsky's music, therefore, indicates that he prefers fantasy to r e a l i t y . I t i s with some j u s t i f i c a t i o n that Norah, who possesses a r 11 "dreadfully robust common sense" (p. 99) considers him an eccentric, a "neurotic" (p. 99), a "crackpot" (p. 142), "both mad and wicked" (p*. 91) • For Norah's view i s repre-sensative of that of normal r e a l i t y . In the world of form, Carel's wickedness suggests that he i s a L u c i f e r , but a s p e c i a l kind of L u c i f e r . The world of form i s symbolized by Carel's rectory which belong to a parish that i s i n r e a l i t y v i r t u a l l y non-existent. I t i s permanently shrouded by fog. Seen from Pattie's point of view i The fog had enclosed them, and she s t i l l had very l i t t l e conception of the exte r i o r of the Rectory. I t seemed rather to have no exterior and, l i k e the unimaginable c i r c u l a r universes which she read about i n the Sunday newspapers, to have absorbed a l l other space into i t s sub-stance. Venturing out on the second day she had, to her surprise, been unable to discover any other b u i l d i n g i n the v i c i n i t y . The fog hummed in t e r m i t t e n t l y with mysterious sounds, but there was nothing to see except the small c i r c l e of pavement on which she stood and the red brick facade of the Rectory, furred with f r o s t . The side wall of the Rectory was of concrete, where i t had been s l i c e d o f f from another building during the war. Pa t t i e ' s gloved hand touched the corner where the con-crete met the bri c k , and she saw a shape to her r i g h t which she knew must be the tower b u i l t by Christopher Wren. She could just see a gaping door and a window i n the dark yellow haze. Walking along a l i t t l e farther she found herself i n a wasteland. There were no houses, only a completely f l a t surface of frozen mud, U3 through which the roadway passed .... F r i g h t -ened of the solitude and a f r a i d of l o s i n g her way she trotted h a s t i l y back to the shelter of the Rectory. 'She passed nobody on the road (pp. 21-22). This d e s c r i p t i o n of the desolate, i s o l a t e d wasteland of the rectory evokes the e x i s t e n t i a l i s t p i c t u r e of the universe i n which there i s nothing. Man i n t h i s nothingness i s an an-, guished, lonely i n d i v i d u a l , as ,Carel i s . The landscape indeed mirrors the desolation of Carel's state of mind. In t h i s "dark unvisited cavernlike environment" (pp. 40-41), Carel i s " t o t a l i t a r i a n man," s o l i t a r y , neurotic. In a p h i l o s o p h i c a l essay, "On 'God' and 'Good,' I r i s Murdoch poses the questionI"What happens to morality i f there i s no God?" 1 2 In the present s i t u a t i o n of moral philosophy, she says, the a l t e r n a t i v e s to a morality based on the. e x i s -tence of God seem to be either l i n g u i s t i c philosophy, which has already begun to j o i n hands with s c i e n t i f i c a l l y - m i n d e d empiricism, or else e x i s t e n t i a l i s m . Of the l a t t e r , most of i t i s either "optimistic romancing" or else " p o s i t i v e l y L u c i f e r i a n . " J. The "optimistic romancing" strand i s pre-sumably represented by Sartre, whereas the other, " L u c l f e r -i a n " e x i s t e n t i a l i s m , i s derived from Heidegger, who i s , i n 14 her view, possibly "Lucifer i n person." The e t h i c a l positions presented i n The Time of the Angels are these two, a weak " a t h e i s t i c humanism"1^ ("optimistic romancing"), 114 represented "by Marcus Fisher, and Satanism ( L u c i f e r i a n exis-tentialism) p e r s o n i f i e d by Carel. That I r i s Murdoch considers Heidegger's e x i s t e n t i a l i s m a n o n - v i t a l , non-dynamic force i s evident i n the manner i n which Carel i s presented. His fog-enclosed rectory i s seen as a wasteland, a dead world, a tomb. Carel's room, always dark, cold and s t u f f y , i s thus the c o f f i n within t h i s tomb. Carel, the inhabitant of thi s c o f f i n bears c e r t a i n p h y s i c a l resemblances to a corpse. His face appears to his daughter Muriel as "a t r i f l e glazed and s t i f f e n e d " (p. 35), s t i f f e n e d as though i t had undergone r i g o r mortis. Marcus sees that s t i f f n e s s as gleaming " l i k e enamel, l i k e porcelain ... with m e t a l l i c features" (pp. 168, 176). Like an enbalmed corpse, i n the very bright l i g h t the smooth surface of his face seemed decomposed a l i t t l e , white and powdery. Only the eyes g l i s t e n i n g l i k e damp blue stones and the lank hair gleamed as i f i t were wet (p. 182). When he i s a c t u a l l y i n the process of dying, he looks as i f he were already reposing i n a c o f f i n i The enamel skin which had glowed with whiteness was l i k e grey wax now, the colour of trodden snow which had l o s t i t s g l i t t e r . The features seemed to be sinking into the bone. Even Carel's hair, spread a l i t t l e upon the cushion, has l o s t i t s glossiness and looked l i k e a r e l i c , some scarcely recognizable s t u f f found i n a tomb or a casket (p. 219)• 115 This tomb-like rectory i s symbolically a h e l l , an appropriate dwelling place for Carel, "Lucifer i n person." Carel i s surrounded by darkness as God i s by l i g h t . His room i s h a b i t u a l l y dark, he dresses i n a black cassock, his voice and the sounds of his movements are always coming from the dark. P a t t i e senses "somewhere up above a head and shoulders moved i n the dark" (p. 85), sees him as " t a l l and dense i n his black cassock as a tower of darkness" (p. 34). His presence subjugates her whole being with a "dark swoop" (p. 155). Marcus thinks of C a r e l 1 s "dark f i g u r e " (p. 121) looming beside him. Appropriately, Marcus's f i r s t entry into Carel's house i s v i a a coal bin, at a time.when the e l e c t r i c a l power f a i l u r e causes the house to be i n t o t a l darkness. His meeting and conversation with Carel take place e n t i r e l y i n the dark a meeting i n h e l l . Like Satan i n t h i s h e l l , Carel has his "dark angel" (p. 157), P a t t i e , whom he c a l l s his "counter-virgin" (p. 157), his "anti-Maria" (p. 157). His seduction of her suggests an inversion of a sacred r i t e , with "macabre unrobings" (p. 29), and a r e c i -t a t i o n of an inverted version of " H a i l Mary, f u l l of grace" (p. 159), P a t t i e * s enslavement by the enchanter began when, starved for a f f e c t i o n , she entered Carel*s house as a dom-e s t i c and received signs of love from him. She thinks of 116 that entry Into his presence "as into the presence of God" (p. 2 7 ) . From then on,. he becomes for her "the Lord God and she was the i n e r t and s i l e n t earth which moves i n per-fe c t obedience" (p. 208). She fears him, for he appears to be not of this world, but "a perceptible inhabitant of some other dimension" (p. 82). Her surrender to him brings not the joy as to one who surrenders herself to God, instead, i t destroys her f i t n e s s for a world of innocence* "She f e l t that she was irrevocably s o i l e d and broken and u n f i t t e d now for ordinary l i f e " (p. 3 1 ) . she i s enslaved by the d e v i l : "A darkness entered her l i k e a swarm of bees" (p. 2 8 ) , and P a t t i e i s doomed. His daughter Muriel regards Carel as the " t r o l l king" (p. 3 5 ) who may, at any moment, be c a r r i e d into h e l l by the d e v i l i n person. She fears his e v i l power but Is unable to r e s i s t i t . In his presence she i s mesmerized: She had always f e l t g u i l t y before him .... Muriel f e l t her father's eyes upon her l i k e a steady pressure upon her face .... Muriel f e l t a point of sleepiness i n her mind l i k e a l i t t l e cloud. I t buzzes. More l i k e a swarm of bees perhaps coming nearer, nearer (p. 1 3 0 ) . She thinks him omnipotent, or would not be surprised to d i s -cover that he were. When Eugene's icon unexpectedly appears on his desk (brought there by Marcus, unknown to her), she 117 thinks f o r a moment that he has performed a miracle, and has restored i t to Eugene. She thinks him also omniscient, and that he i s able to read her thoughts. Her fear of him i s .. not a fear of God, but she was frightened of disobeying Carel. But she was even more frightened of something else, of an i s o l a t i o n , a par a l y s i s of the w i l l , the metamorphosis of the world into something small • and sleepy and enclosed, the I n t e r i o r of an egg. She f e l t as i f Carel had t r i e d to r e c r u i t her for some d i a b o l i c a l p l o t , or rather to hypnotize her into a sense of i t s i n e v i t a b i l -i t y (p. 138). Like P a t t i e , she sees i n him an a l i e n , i n the sense of non-human, q u a l i t y : He had never quite, for her, belonged to the ordinary human scene, and although he was quite a stranger and the strangest thing that she knew, he was so intimately a part of her own • consciousness that she was almost surprised that he was v i s i b l e to other people (p. 179) • In the end, the choice between his l i f e and death rests with her. She chooses the l a t t e r , but his death does not release her from enchantment. Like P a t t i e , she has become l o s t to the world of innocence. Because of his d i a b o l i c a l acts, she i s bound to Elizabeth and must, for the r e s t of her l i f e be • condemned to be divided forever from the world of simple innocent things, thoughtless a f f e c -tions and free happy laughter and dogs passing by i n the stre e t .... There would be no parting 118 from Elizabeth now. Carel had r i v e t e d them together, each to be the damnation of the other u n t i l the end of the world (p. 222). • Carel has always been "a source of power" (p. 14) and "a man of power" (p. 225) to his younger brother Marcus who both loves and fears him. Marcus refuses to accept the commonsense v e r d i c t that Carel i s an insane man, choosing instead to i n t e r p r e t his a n t i - s o c i a l behaviour as a r i s i n g from a cosmic despair, the r e s u l t of his knowledge of truth. Marcus thinks that Carel has i n s i g h t into.something he him-s e l f cannot possibly understands "He had never even sighted that s p i r i t u a l ocean upon which his brother Was seemingly s u f f e r i n g shipwreck" (p. 195). In his knowledge of cosmic truth, Carel becomes "Godlike" to Marcus, a highly i r o n i c conclusion as Marcus professes not to believe i n the e x i s -tence of God. His meeting with Carel has a r e l i g i o u s i m p l i -cation, i t i s a "mystical experience" (p. 19). Thus, C a r e l 1 s parting blow to him i s "an enlightenment" (p. 191), "a mark of love" (p. 191). In his enchantment with his brother, Marcus thinks that whatever Carel*s f a i l i n g s , they are not those of a mundane, human nature, but something c o l o s s a l , of cosmic proportion. Carel*s despair reinforces his r o l e as L u c i f e r f i g u r e . For fear, or dread (angst) i s the fundamental mood of 119 Heidegger's philosophy. Heidegger believes that at the very core of the human personality l i e s grave g u i l t , anxiety and fear. Man i s l o s t i n utter loneliness, he i s t o t a l l y 17 i s o l a t e d . ' P a t t l e senses that Carel possesses a great fear, a fear which a f f l i c t e d her with ter r o r and with a kind of nausea. I t seemed to her now that, fo r a l l his curious s o l i t a r y gaiety, she had always seen him as a soul i n h e l l . Carel was becoming very frightened and he c a r r i e s fear about him as a p h y s i c a l environment .... P a t t i e knew that what frightened Carel did not belong to the material world even i n the sense i n which pink elephants did (p. 32). Carel's fear i s of nothingness. He conceives of no God, no good, "only power and the marvel of power., there i s only chance and the t e r r o r of chance" (p. 1 7 2 ) . The universe i s a void; goodness i s not possible for man, for he i s made "too low i n the order of things" (p. 174*). Therefore, he t e l l s Marcus: "The single good of the philosophers i s an i l l u s i o n and a fake" (p. 1 7 2 ) . This i s , of course, contrary to I r i s Murdoch's view. For goodness, she says, can e x i s t 1 ft i n a world without God. I t requires, however, i n d i v i d u a l s e l f - d i s c i p l i n e , a focussing of one's attention outwards, away from s e l f . I t i s by no means an easy task, but i t i s a possible one. Thus Carel, In her view, suffers not from a grandiose malady such as cosmic despair, but from s o l i p -sism, leading to "personal fantasy: the tissue of s e l f -aggrandlzation and consoling wishes and dreams which 1 2 0 prevents one from seeing what i s outside one.nXy As an example of " t o t a l i t a r i a n man," Carel i s indeed "a neurotic who seeks to cure himself by unfolding a myth about himself." Because the settings of The I t a l i a n G i r l , The Unicorn and The Time of the Angels are i s o l a t e d , the enchanter f i g -ures are only seen i n one l o c a t i o n , Maggie i n the symbolic Garden of Eden of the Narraway estate, Hannah and Carel i n the fantasy worlds they have created within Gaze Castle and the rectory. I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g that these three enchanters are the only ones who are r e s t r i c t e d i n movement i n t h i s manner. This i s an i n d i c a t i o n that i n I r i s Murdoch's novels, s e t t i n g plays a large part i n determining the functions of characters, p a r t i c u l a r l y of the enchanter f i g u r e s . 1 2 1 I I . Mischa Fox and Honor K l e i n The atmosphere of remoteness that i s present i n The  I t a l i a n G i r l . The Unicorn and The Time of the Angels i s les s evident i n The F l i g h t from the Enchanter and A Severed  Head. In both of these novels, there are frequent reminders of ordinary l i f e i n a larger society. The working world of London i s depicted i n The F l i g h t from the Enchanter i n the d e s c r i p t i o n of c i t y s t r e e t s , a factory, and a tenement bui l d i n g , among other scenes. In A Severed Head. Martin's travels from one London address to another, his v i s i t to a t r a i n s t a t i o n , his walk along the Thames, as well as his excursions to Oxford and Cambridge, suggest that the world of the novel i s part of a larger society. As I have mentioned i n Chapter One, normal r e a l i t y i n The F l i g h t from the Enchanter i s the contingent world. I t Is symbolized by the sea which makes a "deafening" and "strange roaring sound," 2 1 and i s , to Annette, a frightening phenomenoni Annette was completely dazed. She came down to stand beside Mischa, picking her way care-f u l l y across a l i n e of crackling s h e l l s and y i e l d i n g seaweed. I t was a beach of large f l a t stones which crunched awkwardly under-foot. Annette f e l t suddenly i n danger. The mist hemmed them i n .... She looked towards the sea. . She could just see as f a r as the place where the waves appeared out of the 122 grey wall, already beginning to c u r l over and f a l l . They crashed v i o l e n t l y upon the stones, came foaming forward i n a great sheet of water, and then withdrew, drawing the beach a f t e r them with a r a t t l i n g g r i nd-ing sound. The endless rythmical noise covered Annette and held her for a while motionless and appalled (p. 201). Her emotion when confronted with the sea r e c a l l s 'Marian*s panic, i n The Unicorn, on her way to the sea to bathe. On the l e v e l of t h i s r e a l i t y , Mischa Fox i s an exotic enchanter and a romantic f i g u r e . He i s a famous man, fabu-lously wealthy, with obscure o r i g i n s , a factor that c o n t r i -butes greatly to his exotic mystique. Vaguely European and of indeterminate age, he i s a man of mystery. As Rainborough says': 'No one knows Mischa's age. One can hardly .•" even make a guess. I t ' s uncanny. He could be t h i r t y , he could be f i f t y - f i v e . Have you ever met.anyone who knew?.... No one knows his age. No one knows where he came from eit h e r . Where was he born? What blood i s i n his veins? No one knows' (p. 35)-Though not famous fo r anything i n p a r t i c u l a r , he i s , as he t e l l s Annette, simply famous. As the owner of a chain of newspapers, he i s i n f l u e n t i a l as well as Immensely r i c h . Not s u r p r i s i n g l y , he i s a legendary fi g u r e , the object of much speculation, gossip and s t o r i e s . He i s reported to have at his disposal dozens of enslaved beings of a l l kinds 123 whom he controls at w i l l . He i s heard of frequently "jump-ing on a plane to New York" (p. 144). Even his dwelling places are sources of f a n t a s t i c conjecture. His v i l l a i n I t a l y i s the source of "various fables" (p. 268), and his house In London i s "fabulous and much-discussed" (p. 142). As with many of the exotic enchanters, Mischa has a s t r i k i n g appearance. He has one blue eye and one brown eyes The blue one was not brownish,, nor was the brown one b l u i s h . Each one was i t s own cle a r ' unflecked colour. There was a brown p r o f i l e and a blue p r o f i l e , giving the impression of two faces superimposed (p. 79). This double p r o f i l e suggests a paradox or ambiguity, which indeed i s the operative word i n the de s c r i p t i o n of his char-acter. He supposedly c r i e s over what he reads i n the news-papers and i s moved to tears when r e c a l l i n g how chicks were given as prizes i n f a i r s i n the v i l l a g e of his childhood, and then subsequently died. He expresses sorrow at seeing a one-footed sparrow and worries that i t would not survive a storm. He t e l l s Rainboroughs "I love a l l creatures," (p. 135)» and proves i t by his gentle treatment of the moth that lands on his hand and of the l i z a r d that Rosa picks up i n his v i l l a . Animals, he says, are "so poor and defence-l e s s " (p. 208) that they f i l l him with "an i n t o l e r a b l e com-passion, a sort of nausea" (p. 208). To save them, he k i l l s 124 them, as he did a k i t t e n he was"once given. This kind of ambiguous compassion i s a neurosis, as anyone with an i n k l i n g of modern psychology would hazard to guess. Wolfe, i n f a c t , attempts a psychoanalysis of Mischa's character. He says : The motive force behind a l l his conscious acts i s a t e r r i f i e d p i t y for the f i n i t e world. Mischa unconsciously transforms his obsessive compassion fo r the f r a g i l i t y and evanescence of contingent l i f e into a s a d i s t i c c r u e l t y . His own outward disp l a y of mildness and affe c t i o n a t e charity i s a ruse for his frankly morbid psychic impulses This "obsessive compassion" for helpless things extends to the inanimate. He wishes to own the Artemis, an unprofitable p e r i o d i c a l , suffragette i n o r i g i n , because, as Rosa puts, i t * •The Artemis i s - a l i t t l e independent thing ... i t ' s very small, but i t goes around on. i t s own. There aren* t many completely independent per-i o d i c a l s these days. Perhaps the sight of a l i t t l e independent thing annoys Mischa. I t ' s l i k e the i n s t i n c t to catch f i s h or b u t t e r f l i e s . To f e e l the thing struggling i n your grasp' (p. 33). Mischa's ambiguous motives are the r e s u l t s of a f a i l u r e of love. A.S. Byatt puts i t thus i "Mischa's r e l a t i o n s to other i n d i v -iduals are either those of p i t y or those of destruction; he cannot meet them i n love." 23 This f a i l u r e leads to his own enchantment. Himself an object of fantasy, he i s imprisoned 125 by his own fantasy. Thus, he enslaves Rosa by having i n his possession a photograph of her with the Lusciewicz brothers, but i s himself entrapped by memories of his c h i l d -hood symbolized by the photographs of his v i l l a g e s to these he turns for consolation. Mischa's enigmatic behaviour reaffirms the ambiguity i n his character. The intense emotion he displays by the sea i s an example of this strange behaviour. Annette sees that his l i p s were parted and his eyes seemed to s t a r t from his head. He was staring at the waves l i k e a man cornered by a. strange -animal. Terror and f a s c i n a t i o n were upon his brow. When Annette saw him she was yet more a f r a i d . He was breathing hard and every now and then his mouth moved as i f he were saying something the sound of which was l o s t •in the roar of the sea. Already the water was covering his shoes. Then he.bent down, plunged his hand into the foam at his feet, and put his fingers to his l i p s . He l i c k e d his l i p s , t a s t i n g the brine (p. 201). Oblivious to her frightened cry, "he shook himself and moved away from her, his l i p s s t i l l moving, without turning his head" (p. 202). When Annette breaks his communion with the sea by plunging into i t herself, Mischa becomes transformed: "Mischa leaned over her with the face of a demon. He pulled o her to her feet and dragged her to the car" (p. 202). His enigmatic behaviour and s o c i a l p o s i t i o n make Mischa a most suitable object of fantasy f o r others. Rosa thinks 126 him "the very figure of e v i l 1 ' (p. 103). She recognizes In him the q u a l i t y of the outlaw, "a s p i r i t which came out of the same region beyond the d o c i l i t y of the s o c i a l world" (p. 235) as that of Stefan. Consequently, only he can get r i d of Stefan. Though i t was she who had terminated t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p ten years before, her enchantment with him has not ceased. She finds herself " s t i l l , however p a r t i a l l y and however obscurely, fascinated by the idea of Mischa" (p. 102). On her way to his v i l l a i n I t a l y , she i s i n "a frenzied state of mind" (p. 267). To Calvin she says: "It's odd ... i n the past I always f e l t that whether I went towards him or away from him I was only doing his w i l l " (p. 281). Nina's enchantment with Mischa began as love and i s gradually transformed into ."a strange emotion which had i n i t more of t e r r o r and f a s c i n a t i o n than tenderness" (p. 143). e She i s completely dependent on him for her existence and i s Isolated because of this dependency. She l i v e s alone i n misery i n an a r t i f i c i a l world that he has created for her, and her release from his s p e l l i s attained only through her s u i c i d e . To Peter, Mischa i s "a problem which, he f e l t , he would never solve and t h i s although he had got perhaps more data for i t s s o l u t i o n than any other l i v i n g being" (p. 206). Mischa appears to him to be "the very s p i r i t of the Orient, 12? that Orient which lay beyond the Greeks, barbarous and f e r a l , Egypt, Assyria, Babylon" (p. 209). Mischa seems almost prophetic at times, to the extent, that Peter thinks he understands the hieroglyph that has b a f f l e d Peter for a long time. Strangely, Mischa's offhand p r e d i c t i o n of the imminent discovery of a b i l i n g u a l stone turns out l a t e r to be true. Annette, the "unicorn g i r l , " puts herself under the enchanter's s p e l l with the mistaken impression that she can l i b e r a t e his tortuous soul ( a l l famous men, to the romantic, have tortuous s o u l s ) . Unlike Nina, however, Annette escapes from her enchantment without a scar, just as p h y s i c a l l y she i s s c a r l e s s , despite vaccinations and an accident. Her scar-less condition suggests that she i s untouched by experience, l i k e the maiden i n Keats' "Ode to a Grecian Urn." Like that maiden, Annette, as well as her parents, represents the world Oh, of romanticism, without the muddles of r e a l i t y . Like Annette, Ralnborough i s also a romantic adoles-cent, though an overaged one. Mischa's fame appeals to Ralnborough, who, as Wolfe suggests, has the t y p i c a l middle-class a s p i r a t i o n to s o c i a l p r e s t i g e . 2 5 To be associated with a glamorous figure i s an attainment of this a s p i r a t i o n . His emotions regarding Mischa are mixed fear and d i s -taste with l i t t l e fondness. He declares that Mischa i s "a 128 man capable of enormous c r u e l t y " (p. 31)» and expresses disgust at Mischa's manipulation of people. He professes cynicism at Mischa's fame, declaring that "the heavens don't turn red when Mischa lands; comets don't burn the sky" (p.'30)'. Yet he i s g r a t i f i e d when considered by others to be Mischa's intimate f r i e n d . He cherishes Mischa's good opinion of him, and i s anxious f o r the continuance of t h e i r f r i e n d s h i p . Thus he i s jealous, when at Mischa's party, i t i s Peter who i s the r e c i p i e n t of the host's at t e n t i o n . In the world of form, Mischa i s a figure from mythol-ogy, fables and f a i r y t a l e s . His double p r o f i l e suggests that he Is Janus, the Roman double-headed god of beginnings, protector of arches and doorways. According to legend, the gates of Janus are opened i n times of war. Appropriately, the gates of Mischa's house open for a party that disintegrates into a brawl between Rosa and Annette. Janus i s also reputed by some sources to be the f i r s t of the gods; th i s p a r a l l e l s Mischa's undisputed s o c i a l p o s i t i o n , and s i m i l a r l y , the con t r o v e r s i a l f a c t that Janus Is rela t e d to Diana explains a l l e g o r l c a l l y Mischa's f a n a t i c a l compulsion to own the A r t e m i s , 2 7 Mischa's "fabulous and much-discussed residence" (p. 142) i n London i s composed of four houses on two adjoining blocks, Joined together back to back. Within, there are 129 numerous rooms, and according to rumour, there are no c o r r i -dors or continuous stairways. The centre construction has few windows, promoting wild speculations that i t houses a laboratory, that chamber of horrors In supernatural tales i n which weird creatures are produced. This, and the maze of rooms, suggest the l a b y r i n t h i n which dwells the monster Minotaur. "Labrys," according to Graves, means double-headed axe. The shape of Minos's palace, l i k e a waxing and waning moon joined together back to b a c k 2 9 resembles t h i s . As does Mischa's palace with i t s houses on two blocks joined together back to back. Mischa himself i s the Minotaur of his la b y r i n t h . This i s hinted at i n the f i r s t pages of the novel when Annette sympathizes with the Minotaur In the Inferno» "Why should the poor Minotaur be s u f f e r i n g i n hell? ... I t was not the Minotaur's f a u l t that I t had been born a-monster" (p. 7). Later, she i s attrac t e d to Mischa, whom she sees as a lonely misunderstood creature, l i k e the Minotaur. Mischa's l a s t name suggests the world of fables which i s evoked i n the room i n his house i n which the party i s held. Three sides of the walls are covered with tapestries, depict-ing "an extraordinary v a r i e t y of animals, birds and in s e c t s " (p. 1 8 7 ) i n various acts o f movement — - running, f l y i n g , crawling, f l e e i n g , pursuing or I d l i n g . In the middle of the room stands a large round bowl containing t r o p i c a l f i s h . 130 Mischa himself belongs with t h i s myriad of animals, for he 30 i s the "animal or nature god."^ His l a s t name i s an a l l u s i o n to the animal often depicted i n fables. In appear-ance he resembles a fox, with his "long tenderly curving mouth" (p. 79) > and long black: hair covering his shoulders and chest which, when drenched, c l i n g to his body i n damp streaks; suggesting a wet animal. His movements are a g i l e and spry, l i k e those of a fox. He often appears lazy and relaxed, l i k e an animal i n repose. At other times, his eyes are "wide and serene, l i k e those of a happy animal" (p. 190). He i s accustomed to s i t t i n g on f l o o r s , and on the occasion of his party, Rainborough notices the relaxed grace of his posture and the extra- . ordinary f l e x i b i l i t y of his feet and ankles. The human foot, which i s usually a s t i f f and jointed object, quite unlike the smoothly bend-ing limbs of an animal, appeared i n Mispha to have l o s t i t s r i g i d i t y (p. 190). Foxes are regarded as predators: i n his r e l a t i o n s h i p with Rosa, imagery of pursuit and c a p t i v i t y i s often used, suggest-ing that Mischa i s the predator. When they embrace, Rosa fe e l s "her eyelids f l u t t e r e d under his mouth l i k e a b i r d " (p. 240), more s p e c i f i c a l l y , a b i r d that i s caught. She imagines being pursued by him when he i s blocking a l l her routes of escape (p. 258). She wonders i f he wants to put her and Peter together i n a cage (p. 258). As foxes are 131 also victims of foxhunts, they are thus ambiguously both predators and prey. This ambiguity reinforces Mischa's own ambiguity. The world of f a i r y tales i s symbolized by Nina's dress shop which i s located In a t a l l house i n Chelsea* The door opened into a forest of clothes. The room was crisscrossed with a number of s t e e l rods, f i x e d near the c e i l i n g , from which hung garments i n various stages of completion. As Annette entered, the draught made a r u s t l e of s i l k s and a murmur of velvets that swept l i k e a sigh along the hanging rows of garments to-wards the mirror, which was fixed to the wall at the f a r end. The mirror was very t a l l and luminous, and i n the l i g h t that f e l l from i t were grouped the white f u l l - b r e a s t e d dummies, some clothed and some unclothed, between whom Annette, her eyes b i g with a n t i c i p a t i o n , now as she entered saw her own r e f l e c t i o n (pp. 76-77). The mirror, the dummies, and Nina herself, "a small a r t i f -i c i a l animal" (p. 76), with her dyed hair, suggest an unreal fantasy world, l i k e that i n a f a i r y t a l e . In t h i s f a i r y t a l e world, Mischa the enchanter makes his f i r s t appearance "at the. f a r end of the lane of clothes" (p. 79), and l a t e r steps back into the shadow of the hanging clothes, and stands there " l i k e a man on the edge of the f o r e s t " (p. 80). The reference to a f o r e s t suggests the common s e t t i n g of f a i r y t a l e s . This i s emphasized l a t e r when Rosa t e l l s him that she i s l o s t i n a f o r e s t . He r e p l i e s i 132 •Just go on a l i t t l e way ... and soon y o u ' l l hear that clop-clop of the axe. Then go a l i t t l e farther and y o u ' l l come to the wood-cutter's cottage.* 'No,' she said, 'to the enchanter's house' (p. 240). Woodcutters, cottages i n the f o r e s t and enchanters are a l l common features of f a i r y t a l e s . The world of f a i r y tales i s not evoked i n A Severed  Head, but that of mythology very much so, p a r t i c u l a r l y i n the d e s c r i p t i o n of Honor K l e i n . Not as ambiguous as Mischa, she i s an equally powerful figure whose power l i e s , not i n material possessions, but i n an acute perception of r e a l i t y . The world of form i n t h i s novel i s symbolized by Rembers, Martin's family home i n Oxford, and by his and Antonia's 31 house i n Hereford Square. Rembers i s "a s o l i t a r y place, "-v When i n i t , Martin f e e l s "enclosed" (p. 39), and "shuttered as i n a tomb" (p. 45). In his mind, Rembers i s "perpetually clouded over with a.romantic, almost a medieval, haze" (p. 32) a fantasy place, as the words "romantic," "medieval" and "haze" suggest. The house i n Hereford Square i s , to him, a " r i c h and highly Integrated mosaic ..." (p. 8). I t i s f i l l e d with a r t p r i n t s and knick-knacks, c a r e f u l l y arranged, a bright multi-coloured s h e l l ... where s i l k and s i l v e r and rosewood, dark mahogany and muted g i l t blended sweetly together against a back-ground of B e l l i n i green (p. 21). 133 The i n t e r i o r of the house r e f l e c t s i t s owners' desire for beauty of form. I t i s also a symbol of t h e i r marriage, so that when the l a t t e r d i s i n t e g r a t e s , the house becomes "grey and d e r e l i c t , a f t e r having been h a l f - s l a u g h t e r e d " ( p . 1 5 1 ) . In t h i s world of form, Honor Is an exotic figure whose German-Jewish heritage i s constantly emphasized'. When Martin thinks of her, he r e c a l l s a "generalized image of a middle-aged Germanic spinster" (p. 5*0. At the t r a i n s t a t i o n , she i s hugging numerous small parcels l i k e a mid-European "hausfrau" (p. 55)- On one occasion she even speaks i n "a slow,way which seemed ... i n i t s very laboriousness, a l i t t l e Germanic" (p. 58). More than her German ancestry, her Jewish-ness i s underlined; her face i s "heavy, perceptibly Jewish and dour" (p.* 55), a "pale, rather waxen Jewish face" (p. 63), l i k e a "sallow Jewish mask" (p. 125), "but also solemn, "the face of a Hebrew angel" (p. 182). Her "cuVving Jewish mouth" suggests to Martin "a Jewish strength, a possible Jewish refinement" (pp. 95-96). Like other exotic enchanters, Honor often behaves strangely. She does unusual things such as conducting a d r i l l with a Samurai sword which climaxes i n the s l i c i n g of a paper napkin i n two, and engages i n a wrestling match with Martin i n the c e l l a r of her brother's house. This l a t t e r incident i s made more bizarre by her manner throughout. Not 134 only i s she not surprised when attacked by Martin, but she does not cry out, though she fi g h t s " l i k e a maniac" (p. 111). When the scramble i s over, she gets up without haste and walks away nonchalantly. 32 Honor, one c r i t i c says, i s "the goddess of Reality,"-^ f o r she has a keen i n s i g h t that enables her to see through the pretences others have b u i l t around s i t u a t i o n s . She recog-nizes the violence and force of the unconscious i n the nature of man. 3 3 Thus she sees the " c i v i l i z e d " r e l a t i o n s h i p between Martin, Palmer and Antonia as one that requires the suppression of v i o l e n t emotions, and of the contingent and i r r a t i o n a l e l e -ments of the human personality. Of the "golden p a i r , " Palmer and Antonia, she says: "They are both persons with a great capacity f o r self-deception. They have enchanted themselves into a b e l i e f i n th i s match. But they are both crammed with misgivings" (p. .64). As to Martin's own r o l e i n the r e l a t i o n -ship, she t e l l s him that he cannot "cheat the dark gods" (p. 64), that i s , the powerful subconscious forces that reside i n him. However much he t r i e s , he cannot overcome his animal i n s t i n c t s , "lynch" the "gibbon" i n himself, that i s , suppress his anger towards the golden p a i r . She p r e d i c t s : "Sooner or l a t e r you w i l l have to become a centaur and kick your way out" (p. 65)• The use of "centaur" i s apt, for a centaur, l i k e man himself, Is h a l f - c i v i l i z e d and h a l f - b e s t i a l , and 135 therefore i r r a t i o n a l as well as r a t i o n a l . R e a l i t y does not l i e i n suppressing the animal but i n accepting i t and thus coming to terms with i t . Martin's repressed violence predictably finds o u t l e t s , f i r s t symbolically, when he s p i l l s wine on Palmer's rug, then a c t u a l l y , when he attacks Honor i n the c e l l a r . The locations of these acts are s i g -n i f i c a n t . The symbolic violence takes place u p s t a i r s , i n the higher region, while the actual violence occurs i n the subterranean region. The higher region represents man's c i v i l i z e d s o c i a l behaviour while i n the lower region lodges his subconscious, p r i m i t i v e motives. Honor i s also r e -sponsible f o r breaking up the enchanted r e l a t i o n s h i p between Georgie and Martin by informing the others of Georgie's ex-istence.' Furthermore, she introduces Georgie to Alexander, who, acting habitually, takes Georgie away. Others recognize Honor's power though they do not under-stand that i t l i e s i n her r e a l i s t i c v i s i o n . Georgie, who does not l i k e her, t e l l s Martin that Honor "could i n s p i r e awe .... There's something p r i m i t i v e about her" (p. 7). She finds i t impossible to l i e to Honor because "she c a r r i e s too many guns" (p. 83). Antonia also fears her and f e e l s "rather nervous" (p. 51) about meeting her. She confesses to Martini "She gives me the creeps" (p. 142). She seems to Antonia to be omnipresent, l i k e a "sort of black cloud" (p. 141). 136 Palmer's feelings about his h a l f - s i s t e r are not stated, but Martin thinks that he fears her and that she i s t h e l n s t l -gator of th e i r incestuous r e l a t i o n s h i p , and he merely the vi c t i m . Martin also recognizes "the power i n her" (p. 179). At her f i r s t confrontation with Palmer and Antonia, he notices that she stands i n the doorway, her gaze fix e d upon the golden p a i r by the f i r e , her head thrown back, her face exceed-ingly pale; and she appeared to me for a second l i k e some insolent.and powerful cap-t a i n , returning booted and spurred from a f i e l d of triumph, the dust of ba t t l e yet upon him, confronting the sovereign powers whom he was now ready i f need be to bend to his w i l l (p. 58). The Imagery describing her i n thi s passage i s that of a v i c t o r a figure of power. Martin senses i n s t i n c t i v e l y that he must be on guard against her, and-"must be very c a r e f u l what I said to Honor K l e i n " (p. 63). Her unexpected a r r i v a l at his house causes him dismay, and he feels "a c e r t a i n deep unreasoning fear. I f e l t her as dangerous" (p. 73)- His fears, as i t turns out, are j u s t i f i e d , f o r Honor discloses Georgie's e x i s -tence to the others. When sent by Antonia to Palmer's house, he i s anxious about meeting Honor there: When i t came to i t I was scared s t i f f . I t was not just that I was p o s i t i v e l y frightened at 137 the idea of perhaps seeing Honor again, and that when I picture being i n the same room with her my whole body became cold and r i g i d (p. 156). She i s an ambiguous power which he f e e l s , i s hovering over him l i k e "the spread wings of Satan" (p. 124). Martin's fear of Honor i s more than merely his fear of her as a person, but also the symbol of his fear of con-tingency. For Honor represents contingency, the very oppos-i t e of the kind of " c i v i l i z e d " world of form that Antonia, Martin and Palmer attempt to create. Thus, the contingent world of the novel i s wherever Honor happens to be, and the dominant image of t h i s world i s that of fog. I t i s an appro-p r i a t e image from Martin's point of view, for Martin's v i s i o n i s fogged by fantasy; he i s unable to perceive the contingent elements of l i f e . Honor's f i r s t appearance i s at Liverpool Street t r a i n s t a t i o n , where Martin i s sent to meet her. It i s a foggy afternoon and the s t a t i o n i s "an image of h e l l " (p. 54), "the Inferno indeed" (p. 55)• I t smells, Martin r e c a l l s , of sulphur and brimstone. Thick fog f i l l e d i t and the great c a s t - i r o n dome was i n v i s i b l e . The platform l i g h t s were dulled, powerless to cast any radiance out into the r e l e n t l e s s haze, so that the darkness seemed to have got inside one's head. Excited, strangely exhilarated by the fog, obscure figures peered and hurried past. One moved about Within a small dimly l i g h t e d sphere, surrounded by an opaque yet 138 luminous yellow night out of which with s t a r t -l i n g suddenness people and things materialized (p. 53). Palmer's c e l l a r i n his house i n Pelham Crescent, i s s i m i l a r l y another image of h e l l i An e l e c t r i c l i g h t , unshaded but dim, showed the bleak musty cavern that was Palmer's c e l l a r . The place seemed darker than usual and a sulphurous odour of fog mingled with the smells of r o t t i n g wood and cold damp stone (p. 109). With the smell of fog, Honor appears again, only to be attacked by Martin. A f t e r the skirmish, she walks o f f into the fog, "yellow, opaque, i n f e r n a l " (p. 112). Palmer's dining room, when Honor i s there, was beginning to seem abnormally dark. Perhaps some of the fog had d r i f t e d i n from the outside. One of the candles began to f l i c k e r , and i t s flame foundered s i z z l i n g i n a sea of melted wax. As I saw' i t go I f e l t frightened and then won-dered i f I had r i g h t l y i d e n t i f i e d the thing which clutched at my heart (p. 95). Martin's fear of darkness resembles Edmund's i n The I t a l i a n G i r l ; i t i s an i n d i c a t i o n of his I n a b i l i t y to accept contin-gency. In t h i s dark, foggy contingent world, Honor appears as the awful figu r e of the Medusa, and as a pagan i d o l of prim-i t i v e cultures. The image of the Medusa i s not merely evoked 139 i n one scene, as i n the case of Maggie i n The I t a l i a n G i r l , but dominates the characterization of Honor as i t does the narrative pattern of the novel. The t i t l e i t s e l f r e f e r s to the decapitated Medusa with whom Honor i s d i r e c t l y compared a f t e r Martin has f a l l e n i n love with hen "I could ... l i v e with ... the image of Honor: an image which might however become fo r me at any moment altogether a Medusa" (p. 156). She says to Martin:. 'I am a severed head such as p r i m i t i v e tribes and old alchemists used to use, anointing i t with o i l and putting a morsel of gold upon i t s tongue to make i t u t t e r prophecies. And who knows but that long acquaintance with a severed head might not lead to strange know-ledge" (p. 182). She has the appearance of having been decapitated as she s i t s i n Martin's car with her head outside the window, peering in t o the fog. Her body seems to him l i k e a "headless sack" (p. 57). She also performs a symbolic act of decapitation when she s l i c e s a paper napkin i n two with a Samurai sword. Even her profession l i n k s her with decapitation; as an anthro p o l o g i s t she i s presumably knowledgeable i n the customs of head hunters. The image of the severed head, as well as a l l u d i n g to the Medusa, also reinforces her prophetic q u a l i t y f o r i n C e l t i c b e l i e f , the head severed from the body has pro-3 4 phetic powers. 140 Appropriately f o r her r o l e as the decapitated Medusa, images of the head hover over Honor i n droves. Descriptions of her frequently stress the appearance and angle of the head; her head i s "lowered" (p. 167), "bowed" (p. 175), "thrown back" (p. 58), "drooping" (p. 202), or she "shook her head" (p. 179), and "jerked her head" (p. 183). The Medusa i s described as having g l a r i n g eyes, serpents f o r hair, huge teeth, protruding tongue, and altogether so ugly a face that a l l who gaze at i t are p e t r i f i e d with f r i g h t . 3 Honor too, i s ugly. Martin t e l l s Georgie that Honor looks l i k e a "haystack" (p. 7)• She has a harsh melancholy p r o f i l e and narrow eyes that -are l i k e "two black chips" (p. 63). Like the Medusa, she glares. Her hair suggests serpents; "black gleaming hair, o i l y , s t r a i g h t " (p. 95) s i t s l i k e a "cropped wig" (p. 63) about her face. She i s usually hatless, so that when drops of foggy moisture f a l l on her hair, they give the impression of shiny snakes. Martin r e c a l l s her o i l y hair r o l l i n g i n the dust as they wrestle i n the c e l l a r , suggesting snakes wriggling on the ground. After her h i s t r i o n i c d i s p l a y of swordsmanship, she leans her head on the blade of the sword, which, aptly, has a snakeskin casing. There are also d i r e c t references to snakes i n a s s o c i a t i o n with her. She r e -ceives Martin's o f f e r of love by s t a r i n g at him,"the snake i n her looking c o l d l y out through her eyes" (p. 180). Later, 141 a f t e r having discovered her i n bed with Palmer, he wonders at his own naivete for assuming her virginity» "Caught i n the c o i l s of such s t u p i d i t y I could not yet begin to touch with my imagination the notion that she should have had her br.other as a lover" (p. 129). " C o i l s " evoke serpents, which, besides r e f e r r i n g to the Medusa's hair, allude to, as they do i n the d e s c r i p t i o n of. Emma Sands i n An U n o f f i c i a l Rose, Honor's prophetic q u a l i t y . The severed head represents a castration fear i n Freud; to Sartre i t i s a sense of fear of being observed. I t i s described i n The Golden Bough, which Martin i s appropriately reading, a f t e r he f a l l s In love with Honor, as a taboo object i n p r i m i t i v e s o c i e t i e s , s a n c t i f i e d because i t contains the 37 s p i r i t of i t s possessor. I t i s an object of fear i n any case. Thus, Martin's fear of her i s j u s t i f i e d . As her profession indicates, Honor i s associated with the p r i m i t i v e . Her mannerisms, expressions and poses are evocative of those of pagan i d o l s , l i k e those worshipped by the u n c i v i l i z e d tribes she studies. Her very person suggests figures i n pri m i t i v e cultures. Not s u r p r i s i n g l y , Martin f r e -quently sees her as "a f i g u r e . " When she arriv e s unexpectedly at his house, he says i "The appearance, so unexpectedly, of th i s absolutely immobile figure had something of the uncanny, and she had for a moment the snapshot presence of a ghost 142 (pp. 72-73)- In the c e l l a r , he notices that "a figur e had appeared on the c e l l a r steps" (p. 109). Over Georgie's un-conscious body, he sees "a figure enter" (p. 174). In bed with Palmer, she i s "as tawny and as naked as a ship's figurehead" (p. 128). Her face on thi s occasion i s " s t i f f and expressionless as carved wood" (p. 128). "Carved wood" suggests wooden i d o l s . She even has "a f a i n t s t i f f smile" (p. 202) l i k e that of "an archaic statue" (p. 178). In posture, she i s l i k e wood fig u r e s . When Martin declares his love, she stands with her feet apart, "and hands behind her back, s t a r i n g " (p. 182) at him. The p o s i -tion, of her hands i s important, f o r i t i s frequently stressed i n her d e s c r i p t i o n . Sometimes they hang loosely at her sides, or they are i n her pockets, so that she resembles statues i n which the hands are carved so c l o s e l y to the body that they appear to be at one with the body. There i s an a r t i f -i c i a l q u a l i t y i n these poses that i s comparable to those of carved wood f i g u r e s . A pagan i d o l compels worship, as Martin i s compelled to love her. He believes that i n f a l l i n g i n love with her, he i s merely obeying the force of fate* "The force that drew me towards Honor imposed i t s e l f with the authority of a cataclysm" (p. 124). The same fate also prepares him f o r s a c r i f i c e as the pagans prepare t h e i r victims as offerings 143 to t h e i r godsJ "I was, i t seemed, to be deprived of con-s o l a t i o n . I was to be stripped, shaved, and prepared as a destined v i c t i m ; and I awaited Honor as one awaits, without hope, the searing presence of a god" (p. 164) . Approaching her i n Palmer's dining room, Martin f e e l s that he i s a r r i v i n g a t the shrine of "some remote and self-absorbed d e i t y " (p. 93) • As a votary pays homage to his god, Martin " f e l l on my knees and prostrated myself f u l l length with my head on the f l o o r " (p. 182). A pagan deity i s also taboo; thus Martin thinks of her as something "black and untouchable" (o. 64). After wrestling with her i n the cellar., he i s awed by the f a c t that he has had bodily contact with her* I kept returning with wonderment to the thought that I had touched hert "touched" was putting i t mildly, given what had happened. But> i t seemed, perhaps f o r that very reason, almost implausible i n retrospect ... I could not a l -together r e c a l l any sense of the contact of my f l e s h with hers. I t was as i f the extreme untoucliability, which with a kind of repulsion I had e a r l i e r f e l t her to possess, had cast, on t h i s s a c r i l e g i o u s occasion, a black cloak about her. I t was as i f I had not r e a l l y touched her (pp. 121-122). Martin's presence i n the c e l l a r , l i k e Ducane's excursion to the cave, suggests the entrance to the b e l l y of the whale a f t e r which the hero i s reborn. After t h i s adventure, Martin i s a new person i n that he begins to recognize the existence 144 of contingency. He r e a l i z e s that he loves Honor though he does not understand her, as he does not understand contin-gency. His change i s symbolized by his change of reading 38 material, from m i l i t a r y history to The Golden Bough. Obssessed with her taboo q u a l i t i e s , Martin goes to Cambridge to see her: "I preserved, the i l l u s i o n of never having touched her. I had knocked her down but I had never held her hand; and at the idea of holding her hand I prac-t i c a l l y f e l t f a i n t " (p. 126). He finds her i n bed with Palmer, and a l l at once she becomes to him "aloof, frightening, sacred, and ... taboo" (p. 153)- Later, when he sees her at the h o s p i t a l , he can no more have touched her than i f she were the "Ark of the Covenant" (p. 182). Presumably, when he truly.'apprehends her existence, the taboo w i l l be broken, and he w i l l be able to overcome his fear.' Though both Mischa and Honor are obvious power f i g u r e s , t h e i r power i s seen i n d i f f e r e n t ways. Mischa has a l l the actual trappings of power (wealth, s o c i a l p o s i t i o n e t c . ) , while Honor i s described with a more impressive set of imagery that evokes figures of power. These two enchanters are also probably the most unusual i n appearance, one having eyes of d i f f e r e n t colours which give him two d i f f e r e n t p r o f i l e s , and the other being extremely ugly. 145 I I I . Nigel Boas and J u l i u s King Society at large i s even more evident i n Bruno's Dream and A F a i r l y Honourable Defeat than i t i s i n The F l i g h t from  the Enchanter and A Severed Head. The s e t t i n g of these two novels i s also London, and there are not only numerous and d e t a i l e d descriptions of London streets and landmarks, but these are a c t u a l l y important to the action of the novels. The r i v e r Thames, fo r example, plays a c r u c i a l r o l e i n the events i n Bruno's Dream, as do the embankment along the Thames, the c i t y streets at night and even inside Harrod's, i n which an event occured that transformed Bruno's l i f e . The Tate Gallery and the Prince Regent Museum are important to the p l o t of A F a i r l y Honourable Defeat, f o r in. both J u l i u s ' d i a -b o l i c a l plan i s hatched. In t h i s novel too, there are de-s c r i p t i o n s of London f l a t s , an o f f i c e i n Whitehall, a Chinese restaurant, private houses and country roads, a l l serving to emphasize that a larger society i s i n existence. The world of form i n Bruno's Dream i s symbolized by Miles' and Diana's house. I t i s a l i t t l e house "where every-thing looked formidably neat and c l e a n , " 3 9 and where there are always f r e s h flowers and "never a p e t a l out of place" (p. 6 l ) . I t represents Diana's attempt to recreate "an eighteenth-century country house l i f e of peaceful ennui and formal tedium and lengthy leis u r e d v i s i t i n g " (p. 6 l ) . The 146 reference to the Eighteenth century again suggests the desire f o r pattern and order. Diana has succeeded i n making t h i s world of form "a "beautiful and elegant burrow" (p. 87), i n which she and Miles l i v e a r a b b i t - l i k e existence. Daily routine, l i k e that at Imber Court, i s regimented 1 Meals were punctual and meticulously served .... Diana had her own s t r i c t routine, her own i n -vented personal f o r m a l i t i e s . E n t i r e l y without other occupation, she f i l l e d her time with house-hold tasks and enjoyments. There was her hour fo r working i n the garden, her hour for doing the flowers, her hour for doing embroidery, her hour f o r s i t t i n g i n the drawing room and reading a leather-bound book, her hour for playing on the gramaphone old-fashioned popular music ... (p. 61). There i s no room i n t h i s world of form for contingent elements. Thus, Diana, u n t i l her enlightenment, l i v e s an unreal e x i s -tence1 Making the house had taken her years and within i t she had.occupied years i n posing. She posed i n a s i l k afternoon dress i n the drawing room, i n a nylon negligee i n the bedroom. While doing the flowers she posed as a lady doing the flowers (p. 86). Diana, i n other words, substitutes, posing for actual l i v i n g . In terms of t h i s normal l e v e l of r e a l i t y , the p o r t r a i t of Nigel has a convincing psychological realism i n view of today's hippie and drug c u l t . N i g e l i s a hippie i n appearance, with his long hair and his habit of going barefooted. He i s 147 also, very probably, addicted to drugs, which causes his face to become pale and lopsided, and re s u l t s In his often trancelike condition. Others think him mystical f o r thi s reason. Danby says to Bruno that Nigel i s " i n touch with the transcendental" (p. 2$). Adelaide thinks that he l i v e s i n another world and i s therefore frightened of him. Many of his actions are possible r e s u l t s of drug " t r i p s , " as when he prowls the London streets at night. At such times he fancies himself outside the material world. He i s then "un-personned N i g e l " (p. 81) who st r i d e s among the people i n the streets "with long s i l e n t feet and the prayer r i s e about him hissing f a i n t l y , l i k e steam" (p. 81). He acts as though driven by a r e l i g i o u s compulsion: Nigel s t r i d e s n o i s e l e s s l y , crossing the roadways at a step, his bare feet not touching ground, a looker-on at inward scenes. He has reached the sacred r i v e r . I t r o l l s at his feet black and f u l l , a r i v e r of tears bearing away the corpses of men. There i s weeping but he i s not the weeper. The wide r i v e r flows onward, immense and black beneath the old cracked voices of the temple b e l l s which f l i t l i k e bats throughout the lu r i d , black a i r * The r i v e r i s thick, ribbed, • curled, convex, heaped up above i t s banks. Nigel makes o f f e r i n g s . Flowers. Where was the night garden where he gathered them? He throws the flowers down upon the humped r i v e r , then throws a f t e r them a l l the objects which he finds i n his pockets, a knife, a handkerchief, a handful of money. The r i v e r takes and sighs and the flowers and the white handkerchief s l i d e slowly away into the tunnel of the night. Nigel, a god, a slave, stands erect, a s u f f e r e r i n his body f o r the sins of the s i c k c i t y (pp. 81-82). 148 During these nocturnal excursions, he commits deplorable acts he becomes a peeping torn, l i f t i n g himself over window s i l l s and p r o s t r a t i n g himself on the ground i n order to observe with his "telescopic eye" (p. 82), the goings-on inside other people's rooms. At other times he i s a mis-chief-maker, a t a t t l e - t a l e , and p r a c t i c a l joker whose "joke" almost becomes f a t a l f o r Danby and W i l l during t h e i r f a r c i c a l duel with r e a l b u l l e t s . Though a despicable character i n his mischief-making, Nigel i s i n f i n i t e l y gentle and kind towards Bruno. Danby say of him* "He's t e r r i b l y good with Bruno. It's almost uncanny (p. 21), a statement that Adelaide unconsciously echoes l a t e r on. In Bruno's room, N i g e l i s many-handed, gentle, as he t i d i e s Bruno up f o r supper-time ... a pajama button i s done up, a • f i r m support between the shoulder blades while a p i l l o w i s plumped, the lamp and telephone moved a l i t t l e farther o f f , Soviet Spiders closed and put away. The back of Nigel's hand brushes Bruno's cheek. The tenderness i s i n -credible (p. 74). Nigel's gentleness extends to others as wel l . He pre-vents Diana from taking her own l i f e by embracing her, and by his p r a t t l e of love, which she at f i r s t takes f o r nonsense but l a t e r repeats to herself without r e a l i z i n g that she Is echoing him. He says to her enigmatically that he i s Gods 149 ••I am God. Maybe thi s i s how God appears now i n the world, a l i t t l e unregarded crazy per-son whom everyone pushes aside and knocks down and steps upon. Or i t can be that I am the f a l s e god, or one of the m i l l i o n m i l l i o n f a l s e gods there are. I t matters very l i t t l e . The f a l s e god i s the true god. Up any r e l i g i o n a man may climb' (p. 224). In his conversation with her, Nigel; reveals that he Is an exponent of his creator's philosophy* 'A human being hardly ever thinks about other people. He contemplates fantasms which r e -semble them and which he has decked out f o r his own purposes' (p. 226). This i s . a paraphrase of I r i s Murdoch's statement which I quoted i n Chapter One* We are completely enclosed i n a fantasy world of our own into which we try to draw things, from outside, not grasping t h e i r ' r e a l i t y and independence, making them into dream objects of our own.40 Nigel also gives Diana advice concerning Miles and L i s a * "Relax. Let them walk on you. Love Miles, love Danby, love L i s a , love Bruno, love N i g e l " (p. 226). This e f f a c i n g p h i l -osophy bears a s t r i k i n g s i m i l a r i t y to I r i s Murdoch's ethics of love, as I have outlined them i n Chapter One. S i m i l a r l y , i n his l e t t e r to Danby, Nigel puts "Into words her ideas of the nature of love as evident i n her novels * 150 Love i s a strange thing ... anyone i s permltted to love anyone and i n any way he pleases. A cat may look at a king, the worthless can love the good, the good the worthless, the worthless the worthless and the good the good .... Love knows no conventions. Anything can happen, so that i n a way, a t e r r i b l e t e r r i b l e way, there are no i m p o s s i b i l i t i e s (p. 269). This r e c a l l s Hugo's statement to Jake i n Under the Net» "You know anyone can love anyone, or prefer anyone to anyone" (p. 226). Nigel thus, i s ambiguously a trouble-maker and a true p r a c t i t i o n e r as well as exponent of I r i s Murdoch's ethics of love. Equally ambiguous i s his sexual nature. His l e t t e r to "Danby reveals that he harbours a homosexual love f o r Danby. W i l l , Nigel's twin brother who i s straightforward i n a l l his urges, including his sexual one, c a l l s Nigel a "crazy pervert" (p. 198). Danby hints to Adelaide that Nigel may have some unusual taste i n sexual matters. This suggestion of sex i n various forms i n association with Nigel i s relevant to his a l l e g o r i c a l r o l e , as I s h a l l discuss l a t e r . The dark, contingent world i s symbolized by the Thames, Nigel's "sacred r i v e r " i n his n i g h t l y prowls. Seen on the , morning of the duel 1 The expanse of shore, some twenty feet from the base of the wall to the water, was quite c l e a r l y l i t now by a l i g h t s t i l l f a i n t but rather l u r i d which seemed to emanate from the curtain of 151 mist which hung now at the centre of the r i v e r and arched over the shore, enclosing i t i n a capsule of bright haze. A quietness, which seemed also to be coming out of the mist, held the scene poised .... The tide had not yet turned and the r i v e r was s t i l l running s t e a d i l y downstream. A sleek l i n e of .mud was r e f l e c t i n g the yellowish l i g h t . Above i t , the surface was more i r r e g u l a r , lumpy, stony, strewn with p l a s t i c bags and old motor tyres and bottles of green and c l e a r glass and very pale smooth clean pieces of driftwood which the Thames had long had for;'.her own. The clear glowing l i g h t made the l i t t e r e d scene seem over-precise, purposive, as i f one had wandered suddenly into the very middle of a work of a r t (pp. 234-235)• This contingent world, with i t s r i s i n g water, looms over the world of form, threatening always to ov.erwhelm i t . Even-t u a l l y i t does intrude v i o l e n t l y into the world of form through a flood that sweeps away Bruno's pr i z e possession, his stamp c o l l e c t i o n . In this contingent world, Nigel i s an angel, the fig u r e of the Greek deity Hermes, the fig u r e of Shiva and the Bodhisattva i n the Buddha legend. As a nurse, Nigel i s a ministering angel. Bruno thinks of his strong hands with t h e i r "angel f i n g e r s " (p. 2) massag-ing away his rheumatism. Nigel himself says to W i l l , his a l t e r ego« "You need me as the brute needs the angel" (p. 199). In his apprehension over the imminent duel, Danby thinks of Nigel as "a h o s t i l e presence, a thin sardonic judging angel" (p. 230). During the duel, Nigel f a l l s to 152 the ground, turning a "swooning b e a t i f i c face" (p. 2 3 9 ) to Danby. This, as well as his frequent dreamy, b l i s s f u l ex-pression, suggests the faces of angels i n r e l i g i o u s paint-ings. Nigel has an unusual walk that suggests angels f l y i n g He habitually " g l i d e s . " On his nocturnal wanderings, he "strides n o i s e l e s s l y , crossing the roadways at a step, his bare feet not touching ground" (p. 81). He also appears to have wings, for i n Bruno's room, he " f l u t t e r s l i k e a moth, f i l l i n g the room with a s o f t powdery susurrous of great wings" (p. 7 5 ) . The suggestion of wings and f l y i n g i s relevant to Nigel's r o l e as Hermes, the herald and spy of Zeus and Hades Hermes i s commonly represented as standing on tiptoes and 4 1 wearing winged sandals to speed him on his f l i g h t . Nigel's above-ground motions evoke t h i s pose. Hermes i s also an Olympian spy, thus Nigel, the symbolic Hermes, i s a peeping torn. Hermes i s commonly regarded as a supernatural helper 42 i n heroic quests, a r o l e Nigel f u l f i l l s by helping Diana f i n d her way towards enlightenment. F i n a l l y Hermes i s a p h a l l i c god,"*3 thus the suggestion of d i f f e r e n t forms of sexual a c t i v i t y surrounding Nigel explains t h i s r o l e . He i s also, possibly, a hermaphrodite, a condition that owes part of i t s d e f i n i t i o n to Hermes. The other myth that permeates the novel, serving i n 153 f a c t as "master reference,""^ i s the Buddha myth. In terms of t h i s legend, Nigel's appearance, with his t h i n face and long dark hair, evokes that of the dancing Shiva, Lord of the Universe, whose "wildly streaming locks represent the long-untended hair of the Indian Yogi, now f l y i n g i n the dance of l i f e . " ^ ^ Nigel's. dance i n his bare room underlines his r o l e as Shiva: N i g e l i n black s h i r t , black t i g h t s , rotates with outstretched arms. The f u r n i t u r e against the wall i s sleek and f l a t . The brown walls f o l d away into receding arcs above the glimmer-ing sphere where Nigel turns and turns, thin as a needle, thin as a s t r a i g h t l i n e , narrow as a s l i t l e t through which a steely b l i n d i n g l i g h t attempts to issue f o r t h into the fuzzy world .... Nigel has f a l l e n upon his knees. Kneeling upright he sways to i t s noiseless rhythm song. In the beginning was Om, Ompha-l o s , Om Phallos, black undivided round devoid of consciousness or s e l f . Out of the dream-less womb time creeps i n the moment which i s no beginning at the end which i s no end.(p. 24). This dance evokes Shiva's creation dance, Omphalos being the 46 world navel. Nigel's r o l e as the Bodhlsattva i s the more important one i n terms of t h i s myth. The. Bodhlsattva i s described as "the sublimely gentle ... person ... whose being or essence 47 i s enlightenment." ' He i s a person on the point of Buddhahood ... a adept who w i l l become a Buddha i n a sub-sequent reincarnation ... a type of world 154 savlour, representing p a r t i c u l a r l y the u n i -v e r s a l p r i n c i p l e of compassion.48 This d e s c r i p t i o n f i t s N igel, whose gentleness i s seen i n his treatment of Bruno and Diana and whose enlightenment i s evident i n his expression, his "smile of i n e f f a b l e b l i s s . " ^ 9 The Bodhisattva i s also described as androgynous and i n the Buddha legends of China and Japan, i t i s represented i n female as well as male form.-'0 This explains a l l e g o r i c a l l y Nigel's hermaphrodite condition. The importance of the Buddha myth i n this novel has been explained elsewhere.^ 1 Because i t i s the c e n t r a l r e f e r -ence, Nigel's r o l e i s a s i g n i f i c a n t one. Far from, being one of I r i s Murdoch's "rebarbative running characters,"52 o r a minor character put i n for good measure, or a symbol with "no convincing psychological Identity and i s intended to have none,"53 Nigel i s i n f a c t the l i n k between the two worlds of the novel; the f i r s t of the exotic enchanter figur e i n a "closed" novel to be seen as e x i s t i n g on two le v e l s of r e a l i t y simultaneously. The next i s J u l i u s King. As i n Bruno's Dream, the world of form i n A F a i r l y  Honourable Defeat i s symbolized by a pr i v a t e residence, here P r i o r y Grove, the Fosters* luxurious home which has i n i t s garden a diminutive swimming pool which made a square of f l a s h i n g shimmering blue i n the middle of the courtyard garden. The garden 155 was enclosed by an old redbrick wall which was surmounted by a t r e l l i s bearing an enlaceraent of Albertine and L i t t l e White Pet, a l l now i n outrageous flower.54 I t i s an ordered, formal world, and the inhabitants them-selves, as Morgan says, provide "order, order, order" (p. 78). P r i o r y Grove also symbolizes the Fosters' marriage. Thus, when Hilda sees her marriage on the verge of d i s i n -tegration, the garden becomes "menacing" and the house " f e l t hollow and meaningless and sad, l i k e an empty house" (p. 314). This r e c a l l s the Lynch-Gibbons• house i n A Severed  Head which also symbolizes t h e i r marriage and which becomes "grey and d e r e l i c t , a f t e r having been half-slaughtered" (A Severed Head, p..151), when t h e i r marriage crumbles. In terms of thi s world, J u l i u s King, as his name im-p l i e s , i s an extremely powerful f i g u r e . He has a l l the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of an exotic enchanter f i g u r e . Like Mischa Fox, he has vague European o r i g i n s , i s famous, r i c h and successful i n his profession as a biochemist. He i s also considered handsome, " t e r r i b l y good-looking ... with that weird f a i r Jewishness" (p. 16), according to Hilda. Seen from Simon's point of viewi His curiously colourless hair, not exactly f a i r , seemed l i k e a pale wig upon a dark man. The hair was f a i r l y curly and f a i r l y short, bring-. ing into prominence the b i g long rather heavy 156 face, bronzed by the sun and now a l i t t l e flushed .... The eyes, of a dark: colour hard to determine, a sort of p u r p l i s h brown perhaps, were rimmed by heavy l i d s much i n c l i n e d to twinkle. At this moment, between two radiant candle flames, they appeared to be v i o l e t , but that must be an i l l u s i o n . The nose was very s l i g h t l y hooked and the mouth, which imparted a c e r t a i n sweetness and sadness to the ex-pression, long and f i n e l y shaped. I t was a face that was not noticeably Jewish except perhaps i n a watchful heaviness about the eyes. J u l i u s spoke with a f a i n t c e n t r a l European accent and a f a i n t stammer (p. 66).. He has, further, a smile that i s often described as "coy, and a.mouth that i s "extremely long and c u r l y " (p.. .260), evoking Mischa Fox with his "long, tenderly curving mouth" (The F l i g h t from the Enchanter, p. 79). Like Mischa, J u l i u s makes things happen. He i s endowed with "spare energy," i s e a s i l y bored and constantly needs the stimulation of new ventures, including destructive ones. His mischief-making almost r e s u l t s i n breaking up the a l l i a n c e between Axel and Simon, and the actual destruction of Rupert's and Hilda's marriage. He aggravates the already tenuous r e -l a t i o n s h i p between Rupert and his son Peter, so that Peter commits an act of violence against his father by tearing to pieces Rupert's ph i l o s o p h i c a l work. J u l i u s suffers no r e -morse from his v i c i o u s acts, which r e s u l t In Rupert's death, but goes on to Paris to continue to pursue his i n t e r e s t i n food and music. At the conclusion of the novel, he r e f l e c t s 157 that l i f e i s good. J u l i u s ' destructive behaviour indicates that he lacks compassion f o r others. "Morgan perceives "an immense c o l d -ness from which she had r e c o i l e d shuddering and i t was to save herself from the i c y contact that she had at l a s t f l e d ..." (p. 132). For J u l i u s has a hatred for mankind which he expresses to Rupert: "I have no general respect f o r the human race. They are a loathsome crew and don't deserve to survive" (p. 194). Furthermore, he says: "The human race i s incurably stupid" (p. 203). Human beings, to him, are not f r e e , separate beings to be respected and loved, but puppets to be manipulated by those more powerful. He ex-presses this to Morgan: " A l l human beings have' staggeringly great f a u l t s which can e a s i l y be exploited by a clever ob-server" (o. 208). His hatred f o r humanity has a possible psychological explanation. He was a prisoner at Belsen during World War I I , and the horror he experienced there has quite probably destroyed his capacity f o r love and kind-ness, and has warped his personality. The d i s t o r t i o n i n his personality i s seen i n his i n -verted moral sense. He t e l l s Rupert that good i s d u l l and e v i l e x c i t i n g . Thus he prefers to experience what i s e v i l . In the Chinese restaurant, when he encounters e v i l i n the form of aggression, his eyes become "gleaming with pleasure, 158 his moist l i p s s l i g h t l y parted" (p. 214). He says of the f i g h t afterwards: "I was looking forward to thi s evening. I didn't know i t would be quite so gl o r i o u s " (p. 215)• In the fantasy of others, J u l i u s plays many r o l e s . To Morgan, he represents form, which she craves a f t e r a muddled, l i f e with her husband T a l l i s . With J u l i u s , she says, "every-thing i s a r i t u a l " (p. 79). He expects her to be "predictable To be gay at the r i g h t times, quiet at the r i g h t times. To l i v e to his timetable" (p. 79). While T a l l i s "has no myth" (p. 48), J u l i u s i s " a l l myth" (p. 48). She says to Hilda: •Julius i s so open and so cl e a r , and yet he's mysterious and ex c i t i n g too. I wonder i f you see what I mean? J u l i u s turned me into an angel. J u l i u s i s a l l soul, a l l inner l i f e , a l l being, and he f i l l e d me with being and made me s o l i d and compact and r e a l ' (p. 48). F a l l i n g i n love with him has the i n t e n s i t y of a "cosmic ex-pl o s i o n " (p. 133). Their r e l a t i o n s h i p , i n her mind, assumes epic proportions: "Julius and I l i v e d l i k e gods" (p. 48). As she explains to Hilda: 'Everything with J u l i u s was so high - i t was higher than anything l i k e marriage. I t was a heroic world. I t was l i k e l i v i n g i n ancient Greece or something. The l i g h t was so cle a r and everything was larger than l i f e ' (p. 46). With him, she fe e l s herself " i n the hands of the gods" (p. 159 163). J u l i u s , i n f a c t , i s her God. "Oh J u l i u s , " she says on one occasion, "You r e a l l y are a god" (p. 151). As a god, he has the a b i l i t y to show her things; he i s "a great world-revealer" (p. 163). Consequently, t h e i r a f f a i r becomes for her a mystic experience, an epiphany during which she thinks she has seen "a. deep truth. I t had been l i k e a mystical v i s i o n into the heart of r e a l i t y " (p. 131), the secret of the universe. From such f a n t a s t i c heights, the f a l l Is ex-pectedly severe. J u l i u s becomes bored, the a f f a i r i s ended, and the secret of the universe becomes "a few smouldering chicken bones l y i n g i n a dark corner covered with dust and f i l t h " (p. 132). Though rejected by him, he remains "large and omnipresent i n her consciousness" (p. 279), and an acci d e n t a l meeting with him causes an intense emotion i n her» "The sheer p h y s i c a l authority of his presence almost r e f t her of breath" (p. 86). Her enchantment with him con-tinues u n t i l she becomes involved i n another i l l u s o r y r e -l a t i o n s h i p , t h i s time with Rupert. To Hilda, J u l i u s i s not an i n d i v i d u a l , but an "exotic foreign object" (p. 7)» "a very i n t e r e s t i n g object" (p. 17). She i s without guile and i s e a s i l y manipulated by J u l i u s into his destructive/ scheme. She succumbs to his s p e l l , and l i k e Muriel i n the presence of her father i n The Time of  the Angels. Hilda i n the presence of J u l i u s i s mesmerized: 160 J u l i u s was studying her and she could not look at him. She looked a t the s u n l i t garden and the sparkling water and the roses and her eyes dazzled. She s h i f t e d her chair and f i l l e d her sight with the s o f t blurred colours of the dim room, the figure of J u l i u s vague and hazy i n her atte n t i o n . She f e l t nervous and yet a t the same time almost sleepy (p. 26l ) . She can no more r e s i s t him than can Muriel her father. Mis-guided into thinking him a worthy confidant, she becomes the tra g i c v i c t i m of his vic i o u s i n t r i g u e . J u l i u s i s i d e a l i z e d by Rupert, a romantic Sunday p h i l -osopher, who I n s i s t s on seeing l i f e i n simple terms. He t e l l s Hilda that J u l i u s "may be clever, but he's also very t r u t h f u l and sort of simple" (p. 1?), but he recognizes that J u l i u s i s "someone who might do anything because he was bored" (p. 5)« He acknowledges that J u l i u s i s "outrageously honest" (p. 220), yet when to l d by J u l i u s that he gave up research on b i o l o g i c a l warfare because he was bored, Rupert refuses to believe him. He prefers to think that J u l i u s had acted on humanitarian p r i n c i p l e s . He allows that J u l i u s Is "a tremendously straightforward person" (p. 17) but when J u l i u s expresses the view that there i s no goodness and that human-i t y i s unredeemable, Rupert thinks that J u l i u s i s merely professing cynicism. He refuses to be disturbed by J u l i u s ' questions on his (Rupert's) p h i l o s o p h i c a l p o s i t i o n , f o r to do so would be to destroy the fantasy, i n the form of a 161 p h i l o s o p h i c a l framework, that he has b u i l t around himself and around J u l i u s . To Axel, J u l i u s i s "morally a t t r a c t i v e " (p. 25) be-cause "he's exceptionally honest .... J u l i u s i s n ' t a com-promiser" (p. 24). -But he has also seen another side of J u l i u s -- the destructive, mischief-making side. However, as he i s engrossed with his own emotional problems, Axel chooses to disregard the p o t e n t i a l damage J u l i u s i s capable of doing to others and thus f a i l s to avert a tragedy. To Simon, J u l i u s i s a father f i g u r e , a sexually a t t r a c t i v e enchanter who can compel him to do things against his w i l l . 0 His i n i t i a l dismay at J u l i u s ' a r r i v a l into his l i f e a r i ses from his i n s e c u r i t y of Axel's love. He sees J u l i u s as a threat to his r e l a t i o n s h i p with Axel: He d i d not se r i o u s l y imagine that Julius' would d e l i b e r a t e l y try to s t e a l Axel. As f a r as he knew, J u l i u s had no in t e r e s t s of that sort at a l l . He did not imagine that J u l i u s would de-l i b e r a t e l y make any sort of trouble f o r him. He simply feared that the proximity of this very i n t e l l i g e n t and high-powered o ld f r i e n d would open Axel's eyes. Axel would suddenly see how flimsy Simon was, how unsophisticated, how lacking i n cleverness and wit, how hope-l e s s l y ignorant about Important things such as Mozart and truth functions and the balance of payments (p. 64). Later, J u l i u s appears i n his dreams as the figur e of his father whose powerful hands grip him about the waist and 162 l i f t him up towards the l e t t e r boxes. He fears J u l i u s , but finds him sexually a t t r a c t i v e , for Simon cannot d i s t i n g u i s h between the two emotions. Drawn by J u l i u s into his p l o t involving Rupert and Morgan, Simon finds himself enslaved. As he explains i t to Axel l a t e r J "I f e e l he's taking me over - I mean just sort of c o n t r o l l i n g me" (p. 3 5 0 ) . In spite of himself, he begins to l i e to Axel, f o r "Ju l i u s had t h i s extraordinary power of making him do things" (p. 330) against his w i l l . F i n a l l y , driven beyond endurance, when J u l i u s prevents him from leaving the swimming pool, Simon r e t a l i a t e s . He pushes J u l i u s into the pool, and curiously gains J u l i u s ' respect from th i s act, as well as his own l i b -e ration. The only character not enchanted with J u l i u s i s T a l l i s , whom nobody respects, except J u l i u s . For T a l l i s represents contingency, and Is the symbol of goodness. His house i s the contingent world. I t Is messy, disorganized, nauseatingly d i r t y . Seen from Hilda's point of view i n Its usual states The f a m i l i a r group of empty beer bottles was growing cobwebs. About twenty more unwashed milk bottles yellow with varying quantities of sour milk. A sagging wickerwork chair and two upright chairs with very slippery grey upholstered seats. The window, which gave onto a brick wall, was spotted with grime .... The sink was p i l e d with leaning towers of d i r t y dishes. The draining board was l i t t e r e d with empty tins and open pots 163 c of jam f u l l of dead or dying wasps. A bin, crammed to overflowing, stood open to reveal , a r o t t i n g coagulated mass of organic material crawling with f l i e s . The dresser was covered i n a layer, about a foot high, of miscellan-eous oddments : books, papers, s t r i n g , l e t t e r s , knives, s c i s s o r s , e l a s t i c bands, blunt pe n c i l s , broken b i r o s , empty ink b o t t l e s , empty ci g a r -ette packages and lumps of old hard stale, cheese. The f l o o r was not only f i l t h y but greasy and s t i c k y and made a sucking sound as Hilda l i f t e d her f e e t (pp. 55-56). The door of the house, s i g n i f i c a n t l y , i s off i t s hinges, symbolizing perhaps, T a l l i s ' receptiveness to the outside world. Morgan says of him: " T a l l i s has got no inner l i f e , no r e a l conception of himself, there's a sort of emptiness" (p. 48). He has no self-image; he merely accepts the muddles of humanity. This, i n I r i s h Murdoch's ethics, indicates that he i s good. He i s also an e p i l e p t i c , whose occasional s e i -zures appear to be mystical experiences. He i s seen during one of his seizures: His body took on a p e c u l i a r q u a l i t y ... a sense of his feet not touching the ground. He knew that t h i s was an i l l u s i o n , but the sensation was very d e f i n i t e and p e r s i s t e n t . If he lay down he seemed to f l o a t . I f he knelt down he seemed to f l y .... In a mechanical and r e p e t i t i o u s way these ex-hausting manifestations were accompanied by the idea of love. The connection was mechanical and puzzling and T a l l i s seemed to know merely by some sort of external association or semi-conscious memory, not by d i r e c t experience, that this concept was somehow involved. He accepted the connection, since he had by now 164 almost e n t i r e l y given up speculation. He f e l t a bond at such moments not with anything personal but with the world, possibly the universe, which became a sort of extension of his being. Occasionally the extension was gentle and warm, l i k e the f e e l i n g of a r i v e r reaching the sea. More often i t was uncom-for t a b l e or even h o r r i b l e as i f he had immense dusty i t c h i n g limbs which he could not scratch. Sometimes he f e l t an awful c r i p p l i n g weight, as i f a steam hammer were very slowly coming down on top of his head. On two extraordinary occasions the steam hammer phenomenon had been immediately combined with the f e e t - o f f - t h e -ground phenomenon and T a l l i s had l o s t con-sciousness (p. 185)' That th i s experience i s associated i n his mind with love i n -dicates that he i s a good persons for i n I r i s Murdoch's world, the acceptance of contingency i s the acceptance of r e a l i t y , and this acceptance i s an i n d i c a t i o n of goodness. Thus, T a l l i s i s good, and J u l i u s i s the only one who recognizes t h i s , and who recognizes the power of goodness, for he con-st a n t l y defers to T a l l i s . He confides i n T a l l i s about his own d i a b o l i c a l p l o t , he bandages T a l l i s ' cut f i n g e r , cleans his kitchen and o f f e r s him money. In t h i s novel, goodness i s seen as a dynamic, e f f e c t i v e force. T a l l i s i s the only person able to act d e c i s i v e l y at c r u c i a l moments to overcome deceit and e v i l . He saves the v i c t i m of violence at the Chinese restaurant by d e l i v e r i n g a blow to the offensive delinquent, and I t i s he who leads J u l i u s to the telephone to confess his scheme to H i l d a . 165 In t h i s contingent w.orld i n which T a l l i s i s at the centre, J u l i u s i s the Nletzschean superman and a magician from Shakespearean plays 1. The suggestion that Nietzsche's philosophy Is a source of reference i n this novel i s seen i n the p h i l o s o p h i c a l discussion between Rupert and J u l i u s when the idea of " l i f e f orce" (p. 199) i s mentioned. This i s an a l l u s i o n to G.B. Shaw, whose Ideas of the l i f e force, and of the superman, are to a large extent influenced by Nietzsche. J u l i u s ' role i n t h i s Nletzschean frame of r e f e r -ences i s revealed when i n discussion with Rupert, he ex-plains his n i h i l i s t i c philosophy, a philosophy that bears a s t r i k i n g resemblance to some of Nietzsche's ideas. Early i n his writings, Nietzsche announced that God i s dead. There i s , not only no God, but no ordering p r i n c i p l e e i t h e r : The t o t a l nature of the world i s ... to a l l e t e r n i t y chaos .... There are only n e c e s s i t i e s : there i s no one to command, no one to obey, no one to trangress .... 55 This i s echoed i n J u l i u s ' speech to Rupert: 'Listen Rupert. If there were a p e r f e c t l y just judge I would kiss his feet and accept his pun-ishments upon my knees. But these are merely words and f e e l i n g s . There i s no such being and even the concept of one i s empty and senseless, I t e l l you Rupert, i t ' s an i l l u s i o n , an i l l u s i o n ' (p. 2 0 1 ) . To Rupert's reply that even i f there were no judge, there 166 i s j u s t i c e , J u l i u s says« "No, no, i f there i s no judge there i s no j u s t i c e , and there i s no one, I t e l l you, no  one" (p. 201). Nietzsche- believed that the primary i n s t i n c t of man i s the w i l l to power: "Where I found a l i v i n g creature, there I found the w i l l to power; and even i n the v i l l i of the ser-vant. I found the w i l l to be master."^6 J u l i u s expresses t h i s idea to Rupert:. •Well, we know what moves people, dear Rupert, Fears, passions of a l l kinds. The desire f o r power f o r instance. Few questions are more important than: who i s the boss?' (p. 200). Later, he says to Simon: "But human beings cannot l i v e with-out power any more than they can l i v e without water" (p. 239). When asked by Axel what he desires most from l i f e , J u l i u s o r e p l i e s : "Not fun. Power perhaps" (p. 69). The w i l l to power i s the q u a l i t y that defines the Nietzschean superman. God i s dead, says Nietzsche, and with his death, man i s r e -leased from the slave morality of C h r i s t i a n teachings. This release w i l l lead to "a transvaluation of a l l values," and to the development of the superman. The superman i s the ultimate expression of the w i l l to power. He has sublimated his i n s t i n c t of pr i m i t i v e aggression into s e l f - c o n t r o l . This i s a task r e q u i r i n g the greatest increase of power and the superman i s thus master of himself. The greatest Increase 167 of power also brings the greatest happiness to one who had experienced i t ; thus the superman i s the happiest man,57 Ju l i u s indeed exhibits a kind of contentment that r e s u l t s from power having been achieved. After having exerted his power over others, he goes^ to P a r i s , and r e f l e c t s that l i f e i s good. — The superman i s committed to a t o t a l affirmation of l i f e , which i s often expressed i n the assertion of power, not only the assertion of power by himself, but also by others. He enjoys being a witness to the expansion of energy, f o r t h i s i s further proof of the force of the w i l l to power. The assertion of power i s often translated into might, and t h i s , the superman believes, i s the ethics of power.58. Thus, J u l i u s ' d e l i g h t at the violence at the restaurant may be interpreted at thi s l e v e l as his joy over the assertion of power i n the form of aggression. His admir-at i o n f o r T a l l i s , on thi s occasion, i s consistent with the b e l i e f that might i s r i g h t , for T a l l i s proves his point by physi c a l violence, a blow i n the face of the attacker. S i m i l a r l y , when Simon asserts his power by pushing J u l i u s i n t o the swimming pool, he expresses approval, for Simon's act conforms to the ethics of power. I t i s apparent that i n Nietzsche's view, the superman i s outside the conventional morality that i s practised by 1 6 8 the majority of people In society. The superman i s "beyond good and e v i l , " a law unto himself.: As for the re s t of humanity, the superman has utter contempt for them; they are the "common herd. " 5 9 J u l i u s holds a s i m i l a r contempt f o r humanity, as evident i n his speeches to Rupert and Morgan discussed e a r l i e r . I r i s Murdoch's view of Nietzsche's superman philosophy i s expressed i n her d e s c r i p t i o n of the r e l a t i o n s h i p between T a l l i s and J u l i u s . That T a l l i s i s the only person J u l i u s appears to respect may indicate that ultimately, i t i s good-ness, not might, that i s the e f f e c t i v e force i n the l i v e s of human beings. On t h i s symbolic l e v e l of r e a l i t y , J u l i u s i s also a magician, a malevolent Prospero, the " s i n i s t e r Oberon" of t h i s midsummer nightmare.^ 0 Not unlike Oberon, J u l i u s sets o f f a chain of events through t r i c k e r y ; he i s , "in f a c t , the i n s t i g a t o r of the whole p l o t . His a b i l i t y to make other people act parts, to do things against t h e i r w i l l s , suggests that he, l i k e Prospero, possesses a magical power. He says to Hilda as he i s confessing his scheme» "I was the magician" (p. 372). On a v i s i t to Hilda, he i s "dressed i n what looked l i k e an evening cape" (p. 286), suggesting the commonly de-picted a t t i r e of a magician. He a r r i v e s at T a l l i s ' house on another occasion carrying a "slim, vigorously r o l l e d 169 umbrella" (p..299) that evokes a magician's wand. The difference between this Oberon figu r e and Shakespeare's Oberon i s that while the l a t t e r ' s t r i c k e r y leads to s i t -uations that resolve i n joy, J u l i u s ' t r i c k e r y leads to tragedy. He 1s "a s i n i s t e r Oberon-fIgure who uses magic of his own to destroy the very model of s t a b i l i t y and harmony . that supports the other characters."^l One i s reminded of the wisdom of Emma Sands' words that one must not attempt to play God i n the l i v e s of other people. J u l i u s as an enchanter i s presented i n the same manner as Nigel, In that both are exotic figures i n "closed" novels who, l i k e Emma Sands and M i l l i e Kinnard i n "open" novels, e x i s t on two le v e l s of r e a l i t y simultaneously. The s t a r t -l i n g d ifference between them i s that Nigel i s not an obvious power f i g u r e , whereas J u l i u s , l i k e Mischa Fox and Honor K l e i n , i s conspicuously so. For Nigel, l i k e T a l l i s , sym-bol i z e s a s e l f - e f f a c i n g philosophy, thus he appears to be i n s i g n i f i c a n t , though he i s , i n e f f e c t , powerful. Because of him, Diana and L i s a are changed. J u l i u s , on the other hand, represents an aggressive philosophy, and i s therefore manifestedly powerful. 170 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER THREE ^The I t a l i a n G i r l (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1 9 6 7 ) , p. 1 3 . A l l subsequent references are to th i s e d i t i o n . 2The D i s c i p l i n e d Heart, p. 2 0 7 . 3Byatt, Degrees of Freedom, p. 1 5 8 . ^Robert Graves, The White Goddess, (London: Faber and Faber Ltd., 1 9 6 1 ) , p. 2 5 6 . 5lbld.. p. 2 5 6 . ^Meyer Reinhold, Classics Greek and Roman (New York: Barron's Educational Series Inc., 1 9 4 9 ) , p. 340. ^Robert Scholes, " I r i s Murdoch's The Unicorn." i n The  Fabulators (New York: Oxford University Press, 1 9 6 7 ) , p. 8The .Disciplined Heart, p. 1 9 . 0 . 9The Time of the Angels (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1 9 6 8 ) , p. 6 3 . A l l subsequent references are to th i s e d i t i o n . ^ A r t h u r Jacobs, A Short History of Music (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1 9 7 2 ) , p. 2 5 4 . ^ I n The Sovereignty of Good (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1970), p. 5 9 . 1 2 I b l d . , pp. 4 6 - 7 6 . 1 3 l b l d .. p. 7 2 . l i +Ib___., P. 72. ^-^Rabinovltz, I r i s Murdoch, p. 3 9 . •""^William Dunphy, History of Western Philosophy (New York:, C o l l i e r Books, 1967), p. 8 5 . 171 17 'Dagobert Runes, P i c t o r i a l History of Philosophy (Paterson, New Jerseys L i t t l e f I e l d , Adams and Co., I963), p. 340. 18 This i s discussed i n "On 'God' and •Good.*" 1 9 I b i d . , p. 59. 2 0"The Sublime and the Be a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , " 254. 2 lThe F l i g h t from the Enchanter (Harmondsworths Penguin Books Ltd., 1962), p. 201. A l l subsequent references are to th i s e d i t i o n . 2 2The D i s c i p l i n e d Heart, p. 79. grees of Freedom, p. 59. 2 2 j T b l d . . p. 56. 2^The D i s c i p l i n e d Heart, p. 79. c Reinhold, Classics Greek and Roman, p. 348. 2 7The D i s c i p l i n e d Heart, p. 87. 2 8The Greek Myths. I, p. 297. 2 9 I b i d . , I, p. 297. 30H eyd, "An Interview with I r i s Murdoch," l 4 l . 31 . J A Severed Head (Harmondsworths Penguin Books Ltd., 1963), p. 32. A l l subsequent references are to this e d i t i o n . 3 2o»Connor, " I r i s Murdochs A Severed Head." 75. 3 3 j a m e s Gindin, "Images of I l l u s i o n i n the Work of I r i s Murdoch," i n Postwar B r i t i s h F i c t i o n (Berkeleys University of C a l i f o r n i a Press, I96I), p. I89. ^ A l i c e P. Kenney, "The Mythic History of A Severed Head." Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, I969), 354. . 35oraves, The Greek Myths. I, pp. 129, 239. 3 6 j r l s Murdoch, Sartre. Romantic R a t i o n a l i s t , p. 90. 172 37 -"Frazer. The Golden Bough, pp. 303-304. 3 8 H a l l , "Bruno's Dream." 429-4-30. 39;Bruno' s Dream (London: Chatto and Windus, I969), p. 70. A l l subsequent references are to this e d i t i o n . ^°"The Sublime and the Good," 52. . 4l -'•Graves, The White Goddess, p. 331. ^ 2Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, p. 72. ^3lbld .. p. 150. 4 ^ H a l l , "Bruno's Dream." 433. ^Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, p. 129, n. 46. ^ 6 I b l d . . p. 81. 48 ^ 7 I b i d . . p. 150, n. 83-I b i d . , p. 150, n. 83. ^ H a l l , "Bruno's Dream." 437. 5°Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, p. 151. 5 1 H a l l , "Bruno's Dream." ^ 2Henry Tube, "Women's Ri t e s , " The Spectator. 222 (Jan. 17, 1969), 80. 53p,w. Thomson, " I r i s Murdoch's Honest Puppetry The Characters of Bruno's: Dream." C r i t i c a l Quarterly, 22 (1969), 279. 54 A F a i r l y Honourable Defeat (London: Chatto and Windus, 1970), p. 3- A l l subsequent references are to this e d i t i o n . ^ F r i e d r i c h Nietzsche, The Gay Science, quoted i n Thus  Scoke Zarathustra. trans. R.J. Hollingdale (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1971), pp. 15-16. ^Thus Spoke Zarathustra. p. 137. 173 -"Thus Spoke Zarathustra. pp. 26-27. • 5 8 S a n a k l a n j Outline-History of Philosophy, p. 230. 59i Pid.. p. 230. 6 0 S e e Robert Hosklns" " I r i s Murdoch's Midsummer Night-mare ," Twentieth Century L i t e r a t u r e . 18, no. 3 (July, 1972), 191-198. 6 l I b i d . . 192. CHAPTER FOUR CONCLUSION In the previous chapters, I have discussed the d i f f e r -ent techniques I r i s Murdoch employs i n presenting the en-chanter figures i n her novels as people i n the world of normal r e a l i t y , and as a l l e g o r i c a l figures i n the world of symbolic r e a l i t y . There i s an inherent c o n f l i c t between her aim to give her characters the freedom to develop as separat Individuals, with "depth and ordinariness, and a c c i d e n t a l -ness,"^ or contingency, and the necessary mythical framework she must impose on t h e i r characterizations i n order to make them appear as a l l e g o r i c a l f i g u r e s . This c o n f l i c t i s appar-ently i r r e c o n c i l i a b l e . I t i s an aff i r m a t i o n of her s k i l l as a n o v e l i s t , however, that she has achieved that f i n e balance the "synthesis between people and myth" 2 "myth" meaning narrative pattern that she has said i s her aim i n her f i c t i o n a l w r i t i n g . Most of the enchanter fig u r e s , p a r t i c -u l a r l y the ordinary ones, appear, on the l e v e l of normal r e a l i t y , to be " r e a l , free characters," as I hope I have shown. At the same time, as a l l e g o r i c a l f i g u r e s , they are very much a part of the "mythical" framework of the novel i n which they appear, 'serving thus to enrich the narrative 17'4 175 patterns as well as explain them. Because the exotic enchanter figures are much more obviously surrounded by mythical references, i t would seem that they, more so than the ordinary enchanters, would be more l i k e l y to appear simply as a l l e g o r i c a l figures than as free characters. In some of the p o r t r a i t s , i t seems that, "myth" ( i n I r i s Murdoch's sense of the word, meaning narra-t i v e pattern), tends to overwhelm freedom of characters. In the opinion of many c r i t i c s , the characterization of Honor 3 K l e i n i s such a case. The c r i t i c i s m i s not e n t i r e l y v a l i d , f o r Honor does emerge quite convincingly as an independent and i n t e l l i g e n t person. The other exotic enchanter figures appear to have more psychological c r e d i b i l i t y . The strange behaviour of Mischa Fox, Hannah Crean-Smith and Carel Fisher i s explicable; they are mentally unbalanced. S i m i l a r l y , J u l i u s King's viciousness can be a t t r i b u t e d to personality disorder as a r e s u l t of his experience i n the concentration camp. In the characterizations of the r e s t of the exotic enchanters, Hugo Belfounder, Maggie, Nigel Boas and the Abbess, as i n those of the ordinary ones, a harmony between "myth" and freedom i s indeed achieved. I t i s necessary, at t h i s point, to include a b r i e f mention of the thematic function of the enchanter figures as i t i s a most .important aspect i n the study of I r i s 176 Murdoch's novels. The idea of enchantment, as I have ex-plained i n Chapter One, i s important to her view of love. In the enchanter figures 0, the process of love, or the lack of i t , can be seen. Those who are able to recognize and accept r e a l i t y are those most able to love others. The best examples are Bledyard and the Abbess. Others begin with only a p a r t i a l understanding of r e a l i t y and gradually improve t h e i r knowledge, and at the same time t h e i r a b i l i t y to love. Examples of this process are Ducane and Hugo. Emma, M i l l i e , Maggie and Honor possess degrees of clear v i s i o n i n proportion to t h e i r a b i l i t y to love others. But for an element of s e l f - i n t e r e s t i n th e i r motives, they too, would belong i n the f i r s t category. Nigel represents love i n i t s most s e l f - e f f a c i n g aspect, the p a s s i v i t y that i s an important tenet of Buddhism, a philosophy i n which I r i s Murdoch appears to be increasingly interested. Hannah, Carel, Mischa and J u l i u s represent the lack of love. For they are themselves enchanted people. Thus, they destroy those with whom they come into contact. Thus, regardless of the d i f f e r e n t aspects of love de-scribed, whether i t i s acceptance of r e a l i t y , passive s e l f -effacement, or the lack of understanding of r e a l i t y , i n which case there i s a lack of love, love Is c e r t a i n l y the subject with which I r i s Murdoch i s the most preoccupied. The 177 function of the enchanter figure i s to explain and empha-size this theme. In the consideration of her novels, one fact emerges quite c l e a r l y , and that Is her a b i l i t y to draw from her abundant and diverse sources of knowledge. This has r e -sulted i n an extremely wide range of references i n her novels. In two of the more recent ones, Bruno's Dream and An Accidental Man, her i n t e r e s t i n and knowledge of Eastern philosophy i s apparent. An Accidental Man i s an "open" novel i n which there i s an exotic enchanter f i g u r e , who, l i k e Nigel Boas, i s a figure from Buddha legends. In her most recent novel, The Black Prince, however, the enchanter figur e i s not a character i n the novel, but the black prince, Shakespeare's Hamlet, who i s also Eros, the god of love. This i s appropriate, for The Black Prince i s her Hamlet, her best novel to date, just as, i n her opinion, Hamlet i s Shakespeare's greatest play. In The Black Prince, her con-cern with the subject of love finds i t s best expression. In t e c h n i c a l execution, i t represents her highest achievement. The importance of the enchanter f i g u r e , both from the point of view of l i t e r a r y technique and theme, Is also c l e a r l y demonstrated here. For Hamlet, the black prince, i s the c e n t r a l metaphor of the novel. Though not necessarily the f o c a l point of the novels 178 in which they appear, as Hamlet i s i n The Black Prince, the enchanter figures nevertheless serve the most important function both t e c h n i c a l l y and thematically. Through them, the marvels of I r i s Murdoch's f i c t i o n a l world are revealed. 179 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER FOUR iRose, " I r i s Murdoch, informally," 65. 2Kermode, "The House of F i c t i o n , " 64. 3Among them Rabinovitz i n I r i s Murdoch, p. 31» who says that Honor plays "too many r o l e s , " Leonard. Kriege.l i n "Every-body through the Looking-Glass," Contemporary B r i t i s h Novel-i s t s , ed. Charles Shapiro (Carbondale, 111.: Southern I l l i n o i s University Press, 1965), p. 72,' who says that the characters i n A Severed Head, including Honor, "are two-dimensional," and Gabriel Pearson i n " I r i s Murdoch and the Romantic Novel."New Left Review. 13-14 (Jan.-April, 1962), 143, who says that Honor i s "seen not as a r e a l person ... but a l i t e r a r y type." BIBLIOGRAPHY I. WORKS BY IRIS MURDOCH A. Books A F a i r l y Honourable Defeat. London: Chatto and Windus, 1970. A Severed Head. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1963. An Accidental Man. London: Chatto and Windus, 1971. An U n o f f i c i a l Rose. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1964. The B e l l . Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1962. The Black Prince. London: Chatto and Windus, 1973. Bruno's Dream. London: Chatto and Windus, I969. The F l i g h t from the Enchanter. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd.., 1962. ' The I t a l i a n G i r l . Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., I967. The Nice and the Good,. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1969. The Red and the Green. Harmondsworth: Penguin'Books Ltd., 196T. The Sandcastle. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., i960. Sartre. Romantic Rationalist.- New Haven: Yale University Press, 1959. The Time of the Angels. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1968. Under the Net. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., i960. The Unicorn. Harmondsworth; Penguin Books Ltd., I966. 180 ^ 181 B. A r t i c l e s "A House of Theory," Partisan Review, 26 (Winter, 1959), 17-31. "Against Dryness," Encounter, 16. no. 88 (January, 1961), 16-20. "The Darkness of P r a c t i c a l Reason." Encounter. 27 (July, 1966), 46-50. "The E x i s t e n t i a l i s t Hero," The Listener. 43 (March 23, 1950), 523-524. "Hegel i n Modern Dress," New Statesman. 53 (May 25, 1957), 675. "The Idea of P e r f e c t i o n , " The Sovereignty of Good. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1970. Pp. 1-45. "Knowing the Void." The Spectator. 197 (November 2, 1956), "Mass, Might and Myth," The Spectator. 209 (September 7, 1962), 337-338. "The Novelist as Metaphysician," The Listener. 43 (March 16 1950), 473-476. . "On 'God' and 'Good,'" The Sovereignty of Good. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1970. Pp. 46-76. "The Sovereignty of Good Over Other^Concepts," The Sover-eignty of Good. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Pp. 77-104. "The Sublime and the B e a u t i f u l R e v i s i t e d , " Yale Review. 49 (Winter, i960), 247-271. "The Sublime and the Good," Chicago Review. 13. no. 3 (Autumn, 1959), 42-55/ 1 8 2 I I . INTERVIEWS Heyd, Ruth Lake. "An Interview with I r i s Murdoch," Univer-s i t y of Windsor Review. 1 (Spring, 1965), 138-143. Kermode, Frank. "The House of F i c t i o n i Interviews with Seven English N o v e l i s t s , " Partisan Review. 30 (Spring, 1963), 61-82. Rose, W..K. " I r i s Murdoch, informally," London Magazine. 8 (June, 1968), 59-73. I I I . CRITICISM OF IRIS MURDOCH'S NOVELS A. Books Byatt, Antonia Susan. Degrees of Freedom: The Novels of  I r i s Murdoch. London: Chatto and Windus, I965. Rabinovitz, Rubin. I r i s Murdoch. Columbia Essays on Modern Writers, no. 34. New York and London: Columbia University Press, 1968. Wolfe, Peter. The D i s c i p l i n e d Heart: I r i s Murdoch and Her  Novels. Columbia, Missouri: University of Missouri Press, 1966. • B. A r t i c l e s A l l e n , Walter. "Anything Goes," New York Times Book Review, September 25, 1966, p. 5. . "The Surface Isn't A l l , " New York Times Book Review. A p r i l 16, 1961, p. 5« A l l s o p , Kenneth. The Angry Decade: A Study of the C u l t u r a l  Revolt of the Nl n e t e e n - F i f t i e s . Birkenhead, England: Willmer Bros. & Haram, Ltd., 1958. Pp. 88-95. Amis, Kingsley. Review of Under the Net. The Spectator. 192 (June 11, 1954), 722. 183 Anonymous. "Characters In Love," Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), January 2.5, 1968, p. 77. . "Enter Someone," Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), September 10, 1964, p. 837. . "Fable Mates," Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), September 6, 1963, p. 669. . "Leisured Philanderings," Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), June 16, 196l, p. 369. . "Perpetual Motion," Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), A p r i l 6, 1956, p. 205. . "Picking Up the Pieces," Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), September 8, 1966, p. 798. _. "Republic and P r i v a t e . " Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), October 14, 1965, p. 912. . "Spiders and F l i e s , " Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), January 16, I969, P« 53• . "Stretching the Net." Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), June 8, 1962, p. 425. "Town and Country," Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), July 9, 1954, p. 437. Baldanza, Frank. " I r i s Murdoch^and the Theory of Person a l i t y , " C r i t i c i s m . 7 (Spring, 1965), 176-189. . "The Nice and the Good." Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, 1969), 417-428. B a r r e t t , William. Review of The I t a l i a n G i r l . A t l a n t i c  Monthly. 214 (November, 1964), 201-202. • "English Opposites," A t l a n t i c Monthly. 211 (June, 1963), 131-132. ' • . "Rose With Thorns," A t l a n t i c Monthly. 209 (June, 196T), 108-109. Berthoff, Warner. "Fortunes of the Novell Muriel Spark and I r i s Murdoch," Massachusetts Review. 8 (Spring, 1967), 301-332. 184 Bowen, Elizabeth. "Sensuality"in a Secluded World," Saturday Review. 4 l (October-25, 1958), 28. Bowen, John. "One Man's Meati The Idea of Individual Re-s p o n s i b i l i t y , " Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London). August 7, 1959. P. x i i i . . "One Must Also S ay Something," New York Times Book Review. November 7, 1965, PP- 4-5. Bradbury, Malcolm. " I r i s Murdoch's Under the Net," C r i t i c a l  Quarterly. 4, no. 1 (Spring, 1962), 47-54. . "The Romantic Miss M," The Spectator. 215 (Sept-ember 3, 1965), 293. . Review of A Severed Head. Punch. July 12, 196l, p. 67. "Under the Symbol," The Spectator. 210 (September 6, 1963), 295. Bryden, Ronald. "Phenomenon," The Spectator. 207 (June 16, 1961), 885. Bultenhuis, Peter. "The Lady i n the Castle," New York Times  Book Review. May 12, 1963, p. 4. Byatt, A.S. "Kiss and Make Up," New Statesman. 75 (January 29, 1968), 113-114. Clayre, Al a s d a l r . "Common Cause* A Garden i n the Clearing," Times L i t e r a r y Supplement (London), August 7, 1959, xxx-XXXI . Cook, Eleanor. "Mythical Beasts," Canadian Forum. 43 (August 1964), 113-114. Cosman, Max. "Prlapean Japes," Commonweal. 74 (June 9, I96I) 286-287. Culley, Ann. "Theory and Practice* . Characterization i n the . Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, 1969), 335-3^9. Dick, Bernard F. "The Novels of I r i s Murdoch* A Formula fo r Enchantment," Bucknell Review. 14, no. 2 (I966), 66-81.. 185 Eimerl, Sarel. "Choreography of Despair," Reporter. 35 (November 3, 1966), 4-5-46. Emerson, Donald. "Violence and Su r v i v a l i n the Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Transactions of the Wisconsin Academy of  Sciences, Arts and Letters . 57 (1969), 21-27. Everett, Barbara. Review of A Severed Head. C r i t i c a l  Quarterly. 3 (Autumn, 1961), 270-271. F a l l e , George. Review of A Severed Head. Canadian Forum. 41 (November, 1961), 187. Felheim, Marvin. "Symbolic Characterization i n the Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Texas Studies i n Language and L i t e r -ature. 2 (Summer, 'i960),. 189-197. ~ Fitzsimmons, Thomas. Review of Under the Net. Sewanee  Review. 63 (Spring, 1955), 328-330. Fraser, G.S. " I r i s Murdoch: The S o l i d i t y of the Normal," International L i t e r a r y Annual. 2, ed. John Wain. London: John Cald-er, 1959* Pp. 37-54. George, Daniel. Review of The Sandcastie. The Spectator. 198 (May 17, 1957), 657. German, Howard. "Allusions i n the Early. Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, 1969), 361-377. Gindin, James. "Images of I l l u s i o n i n the Work of I r i s . Murdoch," Texas Studies In Language and L i t e r a t u r e . 2 (Summer, i960), 180-188. Graver, Lawrence. Review of The Black Prince. New York  Times Book Review. June 3, 1973, pp. 1, 2, lk~. Gray, James. "Lost Enchantment," Saturday Review. 40 (May 18, 1957), 41. Gregor, Ian. "Towards a C h r i s t i a n L i t e r a r y C r i t i c i s m , " The Month. 33 (1965), 239-249. Grigson, Geoffrey. "Entre les Tombes," New Statesman. 46 (September 13, 1963), 321-322. 186 Hallo, Jay L. "A Sense of the Present," Southern Review, n.s. 2 (Autumn, 1966), 952. H a l l , James. The Lunatic Giant In the Drawing Room. Bloom-ingtons Indiana University Press, 1968, pp. 181-212. H a l l , William F. "Bruno's Dream s Technique and Meaning i n the Novels of I r i s Murdoch." Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, 1969), 429-443. • • "The Third Ways The Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Dalhousle Review. 46 (1966-67). 306-318. Hicks, G r a n v i l l e . "Entrance to Enchantment." Saturday- Review. 46 (May 11, 1963), 27-28. • - "Easter Monday Insights," Saturday Review. 48 (October 30, 1965), 41-42. "Love Runs Rampant," Saturday Review. 51 (January 6, 1968), 27-28. ' "The Operations of Love," Saturday Review. 45 TMay 19, 1962), 32. ________ "Rector f o r a Dead God," Saturday Review. 49 (October 29, 1966), 25-26. Review of Bruno's Dream. Saturday Review.. 52 (January 18, 1969), 32. ." Review of A Severed Head. Saturday Review. 44 ( A p r i l 22, 1961), 18. H i l l , William B. Review of Bruno's Dream. Best S e l l e r s . 28, no. 20 (January 15, 1969), 426-427. Hoffman, Frederick J . " I r i s Murdochs The Rea l i t y of Persons." C r i t i q u e . 7 (Spring, 1964), 48-57. • "The Miracle of Contingencys The Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Shenandoah. 17, no.l (1965), 49-56. Holzhauer, Jean. "A Palpable Romantic," Commonweal. 60 (June 4, 1954), 228. 187 Hope, Francis. "The Novels of I r i s Murdoch," London Mag-azine, n.s. 1 (August, 1 9 6 1 ) , 84 - 8 7 . Hoskins, Robert. " I r i s Murdoch's Midsummer Nightmare," Twentieth-Century L i t e r a t u r e . 18, no. 3 (July, 1 9 7 2 ) , pp. 191-198. Howe, Irving. " R e a l i t i e s and F i c t i o n s , " Partisan Review. 2 6 (Winter, 1 9 5 9 ) , 1 3 2 - 1 3 3 . Jacobson, Dan. "Farce, Totem and Taboo," New Statesman. 6 1 (June 1 6 , I 9 6 I ) , 9 5 6 - 9 5 7 . Janeway, Elizabeth. "Everyone i s Involved." New York Times  Book Review. January 14, I 9 6 8 , p. 4 . Jones, Dorothy. "Love and Morality i n I r i s Murdoch's The  B e l l . " Mean.jin Quarterly. 2 6 ( 1 9 6 7 ) , 8 5 - 9 . 0 . Kaehele, Sharon and Howard German. "The Discovery of Re a l i t y In I r i s Murdoch's The B e l l . " Publications of the Modern  Language Association of America. 8 2 (December. 1 9 6 7 ) . 5 5 4 - 5 6 3 . : ! Kalb, Bernard. Review of Under the Net. Saturday Review. 3 8 (May 7 , 1 9 5 5 ) , 2 2 . Karl,. Frederick R. "The Novel As Allegory," A Reader's Guide  to the Contemporary English Novel.. New Yorki The Noon-day Press, 1 9 6 6 . Pp. 2 6 0 - 2 6 5 . Kauffman, R.J. "The Progress of I r i s Murdoch," Nation. 1 8 8 (March 2 1 , 1 9 5 9 ) , 2 5 5 - 2 5 6 . Kaye, Howard. "Delight and Inst r u c t i o n , " New Republic. 1 6 0 (February 8, 1 9 6 9 ) , 1 9 - 2 0 . Kemp, Peter. "The Fight Against Fantasy: I r i s Murdoch's The Red and the Green." Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, 1 9 6 9 ) , 4 0 3 - 4 1 5 . Kenney, A l i c e P. "The Mythic History of A Severed Head." Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 1 5 (Autumn, 1 9 6 9 ) , 387-401. Kermode, Frank. "The Novels of I r i s Murdoch." The Spectator. 2 0 1 (November 7 , 1 9 5 8 ) , 6 1 8 . 188 Kogan, Pauline. "Beyond Solipsism to I r r a t l o n a l i s m i A Study .of I r i s Murdoch's Novels," L i t e r a t u r e and Ideol-ogy. 2 (1969), 47-69. K r l e g e l , Leonard. "Everybody Through the Looking Glass," Contemporary B r i t i s h Novelists, ed. Charles Shapiro. Carbondale, I l l i n o i s : Southern I l l i n o i s University Press, 1965. Pp. 62-80. Kuehl, Linda. "The Novelist as Magician/The Magician as A r t i s t , " Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 15 (Autumn, 1969), 347-360. Lipnack, Linda V. Review of The Time of the Angels. Commonweal. 85 (January 13, 1967), 408. . Maes-Jellnek, Hena. "A House f o r Free Characters." Revue  des Langues Vlvantes. 29 (1963), 45-69. Martin, Graham. " I r i s Murdoch and the Symbolist Novel," B r i t i s h Journal of Aesthetics. 5 (July, 1965), 296-300. McCabe, Bernard. "The Guises of Love," Commonweal. 83 (December 3, 1965), 270-273. Meidner, Olga M. "The Progress of I r i s Murdoch," English  Studies In A f r i c a . 4 (March, 1961), 17-38. . "Reviewer's Bane: The F l i g h t from the Enchanter," Essays i n C r i t i c i s m . 11 (October, 196l), 435-447. Miner, E a r l . " I r i s Murdoch: The Uses of Love," Nation. 194 (June 2, 1962), 498-499. M o r r e l l , Roy. " I r i s Murdoch: The Early Novels," C r i t i c a l  Quarterly. 9, no. 3 (1967), 272-282. Muggerldge, Malcolm. Review of The Time of the Angels. Esquire. 67 (February, 1967), 50. Observer P r o f i l e . " I r i s Murdoch." The Observer. June 17, 1962, p. 23. O'Connor, William Van. " I r i s Murdoch: A Severed Head." C r i t i q u e : Studies i n Modern F i c t i o n . 5 (1962). 74-77. 189 O'Connor, William Van. " I r i s Murdoch: The Formal and the Contingent," The New University Wits. Carbondale, I l l i n o i s : Southern I l l i n o i s University Press, I963. Pp. 54-74. Pagones, Dorrie. "Wanton Waifs and a Roman Woman," Saturday  Review. 47 (September 19, 1964), 48-49. Pearson, Ga b r i e l . " I r i s Murdoch and the Romantic Novel," New Left Review. 1 3 - 1 4 (January-April, 1962), 1 3 7 - 1 4 5 . Pippet, Aileen. "The Women i n the Case," New York Times  Book Review., May 12, 1957, p. 4. Pondrom, Cyrena N. " I r i s Murdoch: An E x i s t e n t i a l i s t ? " Comparative Li t e r a t u r e Studies. 5 (1968), 403-419. . Review of The Unicorn. C r i t i q u e : Studies i n Modern F i c t i o n . 6 (Winter, 1963), 177-180. Porter, Raymond J . "Leitmotiv i n I r i s Murdoch's Under the Net." Modern F i c t i o n Studies. 1 5 (Autumn, I969), 379-385. P r i c e , R.G.G. Review of The Red and the Green. Punch. October 2 7 , 1965, p. 625. Queneau, Raymond. Review of A Severed Head. Time and Tide. July 6, 1961, p. 1119. Quinton, Anthony. "The New Left Novelists: An Enquiry," London Magazine. 5 (November, 1958), 1 3 - 3 1 . Raymond, John. "The C l a s s i f i a b l e Image," New Statesman.. 5 6 (November 1 5 , 1958), 697-698. Richardson, Maurice. Review of The Sandcastle. New States-man and Nation. 5 3 (May 11, 1957), 616. Ricks, Christopher. "A Sort of Mystery Novel." New States-man. 70 (October 22, 1965), 6o4-605« Rolo, Charles. Review of A Severed Head. A t l a n t i c Monthly. 207 (May, 1961), 98-100. Sayre, Nora. Review of An Accidental Man. New York Times  Book Review. January 2 3 , 1972, pp. 7, 10. 190 Scholes, Robert. " I r i s Murdoch's Unicorn." The Fabulators. New York: Oxford University Press, 1967" Pp. 106-132. Souvage, Jacques. "Symbol as Narrative Device: An Inter-pretation of I r i s Murdoch's The B e l l . " English Studies. 4-3 (1962), 81-96. __. "The Unresolved Tension: An Interpretation of I r i s Murdoch's Under the Net," Revue des Langues Vlvantes, 26 (i960), 420-4-30. Stimpson, Catharine, R. "The Early Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Di s s e r t a t i o n Abstract. 28, 5073 A-74A (Columbia), 1968. Taubman, Robert. "Not Caring." The Listener. 79 (February 1, 1968), p. 148. . "Uncles' War." New Statesman. 72 (September 16, ~~ 19^6), 401-402. Taylor, G r i f f i n . "What Doth i t P r o f i t a Man ...?" Sewanee  Review. 66 (January-March, 1958), 137-141. Thomson, P.W. " I r i s Murdoch's Honest Puppetry - The Char-acters of Bruno's Dream." C r i t i c a l Quarterly, 11 (1969), 277-283. Trachtenberg, S. Review of The Red and the Green. Yale  Review. 55 (Spring, 1966), 448-449. ~~ o Tube, Henry. "Women's Rite s , " The Spectator. 222 (January 17, 1969), 79-80. Tucker, Martin. "Love and Freedom: Golden and Hard Words," Commonweal. 78 (June 21, 1963), 357-358. Review of The Red and the Green. New Republic. 154 (February 5, 1966), 26-28. Vince, Thomas L. Review of A F a i r l y Honourable Defeat. Best S e l l e r s . 30, no. 1 ( A p r i l 1, 1970), 12.-13. Wall, Stephen. "The B e l l In The B e l l . " Essays i n C r i t i c i s m . 13 (July, 1963), 265. Warnke, F.J. Review of A Severed Head. Yale Review. 50 (June, 1961), 632-633. 191 Weatherhead, A.K. "Backgrounds with Figures i n I r i s Murdoch," Texas Studies i n Lit e r a t u r e and Language, 10 (Winter, 1969), 635-648. Webster, Harvey C u r t i s . "Grasp of Absurdity," Saturday  Review, 37 (July 3, 1954), 15-• . . Review of The F l i g h t from the Enchanter. Saturday Review, 39 ( A p r i l 21, 1956), 14. Weeks, Edward. Review of The Nice and the Good. A t l a n t i c  Monthly. 221 (February, 1968), 135- ' Review of The Red and the Green. A t l a n t i c Monthly, 216 (December, 1965), 138. . Review of The Time of the Angels. A t l a n t i c Monthly, 218 (October, 1966), 138-139. Whltehorn, Katharine. "Three Women," Encounter, 21 (December, 1963), 78-82. Whiteside, George. "The Novels of I r i s Murdoch," Crit i q u e : Studies' i n Modern F i c t i o n . 7, no. 1 (1964), 27-47. Widman, R.L. " I r i s Murdoch's Under the Net: Theory and Prac t i c e of F i c t i o n , " C r i t i q u e : Studies i n Modern ' F i c t i o n . 10, no. 1 (1967), 5-16. IV. OTHER WORKS CONSULTED Bayley, John. The Character of Love: A Study i n the L i t e r -ature of Personality. New York: C o l l i e r Books, 1963. Campbell, Joseph. The Hero With A Thousand Faces. New York: Meridian Books, 1956. ' . The Masks of God: Pri m i t i v e Mythology. New York: Viking Press, 1972. Dickens, Charles. David Copperfleld. New York: The New American Library Inc., 1962. Dunphy, William. History of Western Philosophy. New York: C o l l i e r Books, 1967. 1 9 2 E l i o t , T.S. "Tradition and the"Individual Talent," The  Sacred Wood. London: Metheun and Co. Ltd., I 9 6 0 . Pp. 4 7 - 5 9 . Frazer, James. The Golden Bough. Abridged e d i t i o n . London: Macmillan Press Ltd., 1 9 7 1 . ' Graves, Robert. The Greek Myths. 2 v o l s . Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1 9 6 6 . . The White Goddess. London: Faber and Faber Ltd;, I 9 6 I . Hauser, Arnold. The S o c i a l History of Art, Vol. I I . London"; Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1 9 6 2 . Homer. The Odyssey, trans. E.V. Rieu. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1 9 6 9 . Jacobs, Arthur. A Short History of Music. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1 9 6 9 . Jobes, Gertrude. Dictionary of Mythology, Folklore and Symbols. I I . New York: The Scarecrow Press Inc., 1 9 6 2 . Joyce, James. A P o r t r a i t of the A r t i s t as a Young Man. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1 9 6 4 . Kidson, Peter, and Peter Murray. A Hisfory of English Architecture. London: George G. Harrap and Co. Ltd., 1 9 6 2 . Moore, Douglas. A Guide to Musical Styles. Revised e d i t i o n . • New York; W.W. Norton and Co. Ltd., 1 9 6 2 . Nietzsche, F r i e d r i c h . Thus Spoke Zarathustra. trans. R.J. Hollingdale. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1 9 7 1 . Reinhold, Meyer. Clas s i c s Greek and Roman. New York; Barron's Educational Series Inc., 1 9 4 9 . Runes, Dagobert D. P i c t o r i a l History of Philosophy. Paterson, New Jersey: L i t t l e f i e l d , Adams and Co., 1 9 6 3 . Sahakian, William S. Outline-History of Philosophy. New York: Barnes and Noble Inc., 1 9 6 9 . Sedgewick, John P. J r . Art Appreciation Made Simple. New York: Doubleday and Go. Inc., 1959. o Wittgenstein, Ludwig. Philos o p h i c a l Investigations, trans. G.E.M. Anscombe. Oxford: B a s i l Blackwell, 1963. . Tractatus Loglco-Phllosophicus. trans. D.F. Pears and B.F. McGuinness. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, I 9 6 I . 

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