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Desperate hero : a study of character and fate in the novels of Graham Greene Easton, Tristan R. 1973

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THE DESPERATE HERO: A STUDY OF CHARACTER AND FATE IN THE NOVELS OF GRAHAM GREENE by TRISTAN R. EASTON B.A., U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1969 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS i n the Department of E n g l i s h We accept t h i s t h e s i s as conforming t o the r e q u i r e d standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA September, 1973 In presenting this thesis i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the Library s h a l l make i t f r e e l y available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of t h i s thesis fo r scholarly purposes may be granted by the Head of my Department or by h i s representatives. It i s understood that copying or publication of t h i s thesis for f i n a n c i a l gain s h a l l not be allowed without my written permission. Department of E n g l i s h The University of B r i t i s h Columbia Vancouver 8, Canada Date September 23, 1973 ABSTRACT The purpose of t h i s t h e s i s w i l l be t o show how Graham Greene's v i s i o n of man's p o s i t i o n i n the modern world changes and deepens as the author matures as a man and a n o v e l i s t . The t h e s i s w i l l be p r i m a r i l y concerned w i t h the r e l a t i o n s h i p of the c e n t r a l c h a r a c t e r s of Greene's novels t o t h e i r environment. I w i l l t r y to show how t h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p , which i n Greene's e a r l y n o v e l s i s o f t e n f a t a l i s t i c and d e t e r m i n i s t i c , changes as Greene becomes more concerned with the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of a s p i r i t u a l and moral 'awakening' w i t h i n h i s heroes which can perhaps counter-balance the f o r c e s of determinism. In order t o e x p l o r e t h i s expansion of Greene's v i s i o n , i t w i l l be necessary t o analyze not o n l y the growth i n complexity and self-awareness t h a t takes p l a c e i n the main c h a r a c t e r s of Greene's n o v e l s , but a l s o t o exp l o r e the moral and p h y s i c a l u n i v e r s e these c h a r a c t e r s i n h a b i t . I t i s the unceasing c o n f l i c t between the o p p r e s s i v e , p a r a l y z i n g environment and the p r o t a g o n i s t ' s desperate search f o r meaning and purpose t h a t c r e a t e s the b a s i c t e n s i o n i n Greene's w r i t i n g s . I hope t o show i n t h i s essay t h a t while the environment remains a more or l e s s h o s t i l e constant i n Greene's f i c t i o n a l world, the scope and v i s i o n of the p r o t a g o n i s t i s widened and enla r g e d t o the i i i e xtent t h a t he becomes an i n d i v i d u a l capable of c h o i c e and a c t i o n r a t h e r than a mere v i c t i m imprisoned by f o r c e s beyond h i s c o n t r o l . T h i s study of the development of the hero i n Greene's f i c t i o n i s composed of f o u r c h a p t e r s , which attempt to d e l i n -eate the changing r e l a t i o n s h i p between the hero and h i s world. Chapter One, "The O u t s i d e r As V i c t i m " , focuses on Greene's e a r l y novels — The Man W i t h i n , I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d , Stamboul  T r a i n and England Made Me — which p o r t r a y a world where the p r o t a g o n i s t s become a prey to themselves and t h e i r environment, unable t o r i s e above t h e i r own impotence as the f a t a l i s t i c world c l o s e s i n around them. Chapter Two, "Studies i n S o c i a l Determinism", d e a l s w i t h two n o v e l s , A Gun f o r Sale and B r i g h t o n Rock, i n which the author develops the c o n f l i c t between determinism and f r e e w i l l . Although both Raven and P i n k i e , the p r o t a g o n i s t s of these two n o v e l s , have o c c a s i o n a l glimpses of the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of l o v e and peace t h a t are denied the e a r l i e r c h a r a c t e r s , they too are denied these p o s s i b i l i t i e s because they have no f r e e w i l l . They cannot choose to l i v e , s i n c e , t o t a l l y c o n d i t i o n e d by con-f u s i o n and h a t r e d , they are d e s t i n e d f o r d e s t r u c t i o n , haunted as they may be by v i s i o n s of 'freedom'. Chapter Three, "The Rise of the I n d i v i d u a l " , attempts t o show how the p r o t a g o n i s t s of The Power and the G l o r y and The  Heart of the Matter emerge as f u l l y rounded i n d i v i d u a l s who are able t o choose and a c t i n s p i t e of the f a t a l i s t i c world i v t h a t t h r e a t e n s t o s t i f l e f r e e w i l l . Greene's i n c r e a s i n g em-pha s i s on God's mercy and grace c r e a t e s an 'opening' i n the d e t e r m i n i s t i c world; the p r o t a g o n i s t i s no longer n e c e s s a r i l y a v i c t i m of h i s own i n e v i t a b l e f a t e . The c o n c l u d i n g chapter, "Love and Commitment", w i l l attempt t o summarize the new more p o s i t i v e stance of the p r o t a g o n i s t i n Greene's l a t e r , i n c r e a s i n g l y more s e c u l a r novels -- The End of the A f f a i r , The Quiet American, The Burnt-Out Case and The Comedians. V TABLE OF CONTENTS Page A b s t r a c t i - i v I n t r o d u c t i o n 1-5 Chapter One: The O u t s i d e r as V i c t i m : The E a r l y Novels - 6-42 Chapter Two: S t u d i e s i n S o c i a l Determinism: A Gun f o r Sale and B r i g h t o n Rock 43-7 8 Chapter Three: The Rise of the I n d i v i d u a l : The Power and the G l o r y and The Heart of the Matter 79-125 Chapter Four: Love and Commitment 126-138 Footnotes 139-150 B i b l i o g r a p h y 151-156 1 INTRODUCTION Graham Greene, l i k e t h r e e p r e v i o u s w r i t e r s who have i n -f l u e n c e d h i s w r i t i n g — Dostoevsky, Henry James and Joseph Conrad — i s p r i m a r i l y concerned w i t h a k i n d of a r t i s t i c d i s -s e c t i o n of the confused and o f t e n t o r t u r e d depths of the human psyche. He attempts to e x p l i c a t e the complexity of human motives and behaviour i n a world where j u s t i c e i s a r b i t r a r y and d e s t i n y seems t o guide and c o n t r o l men's a c t i o n s with a heavy hand. His c h a r a c t e r s e x i s t i n a b e w i l d e r i n g moral u n i v e r s e , where the s e c u l a r code of r i g h t and wrong i s o f t e n at odds w i t h the r e l i g i o u s code of good and e v i l , and where the a b i l i t y t o a c t i n any way i s c o n t i n u a l l y threatened by the powers of f a t a l i s m and p a r a l y s i s both w i t h i n and o u t s i d e the p r o t a g o n i s t . Greene's main c h a r a c t e r s are a l l marked i n a s p e c i a l way, whether i t be by the a c t u a l p h y s i c a l presence of a h a r e l i p or by a s t a t e of honesty and i n t e g r i t y which a l i e n a t e s the hero from the c o r r u p t i b l e mass. Whatever the mark i s , i t i s something t h a t makes him an o u t s i d e r i n the s o c i a l scheme. Through t h i s e x p l o r a t i o n of the o u t s i d e r as the c e n t r a l f i g u r e , Greene i s a b l e t o e x p l o r e human nature i n i t s essence, s i n c e 2 the o u t s i d e r , alone with h i m s e l f and h i s c o n s c i e n c e , i s unable to blend back i n t o the anonymous crowd. Though these c h a r a c t e r s are o f t e n on o p p o s i t e s i d e s a c c o r d i n g t o man-made e t h i c s --p r i e s t s and a t h e i s t s , murderers and p o l i c e o f f i c e r s , s i n n e r s and s a i n t s -- i t i s t h e i r s i m i l a r i t i e s t h a t make them a l l o u t s i d e r s i n the strange maze of s o c i e t y . They are d r i v e n by a q u a l i t y which can o n l y be c a l l e d d e s p e r a t i o n ; they are f i l l e d w i t h what one c o u l d d e s c r i b e as a k i n d of moral i n t e n s i t y , whether i t i s of e v i l or good. They are obsessed by t h e i r own thoughts and a c t i o n s , by the sense of e v i l t h a t they f e e l i n s i d e and around them, and by the powerful need f o r c o n f e s s i o n and a b s o l u -t i o n whether or not they b e l i e v e i n a h i g h e r power. The purpose of t h i s t h e s i s w i l l be to show how Graham Greene's v i s i o n of man's p o s i t i o n i n the modern world changes and deepens as he matures as a man and a n o v e l i s t . In order to e x p l o r e t h i s expansion of Greene's v i s i o n , i t w i l l be neces-sary not o n l y t o analyze the growth i n complexity and s e l f -awareness t h a t takes p l a c e i n the main c h a r a c t e r s of Greene's n o v e l s , but a l s o to e x p l o r e the moral and p h y s i c a l u n i v e r s e these c h a r a c t e r s i n h a b i t . Greene's f i c t i o n a l world i s a shabby, seedy p l a c e , a m e t a p h o r i c a l h e l l t h a t masquerades as r e a l i s m , f i l l e d w ith images of death and decay. In t h i s harsh landscape s t r a n g e l y mingled w i t h f a c t o r i e s and v u l t u r e s , steaming j u n g l e s and cheap c a f e s , Greene's c h a r a c t e r s become a prey t o t h e i r environment. The world of c h i l d h o o d i s not Wordsworthian b l i s s , but the p l a c e 3 where c h i l d r e n begin to understand the h o r r o r of l i f e even as they are molded i n t o strange shapes by the f o r c e s around them. The tremendously o p p r e s s i v e f o r c e of t h i s environment tends to g i v e Greene's f i c t i o n .a sense of f a t a l i s m ; the c h a r a c t e r s are dominated by the mental and p h y s i c a l landscape around them i n s p i t e of anything they can do. I hope to show i n t h i s essay, however, t h a t while the environment remains a more or l e s s h o s t i l e c onstant i n Greene's f i c t i o n a l world, the scope and v i s i o n of the p r o t a g o n i s t i s widened and e n l a r g e d to the extent t h a t he becomes an i n d i v i d u a l capable of c h o i c e and a c t i o n r a t h e r than a mere v i c t i m i m p r i s i o n e d by f o r c e s beyond h i s c o n t r o l . T h i s study of the development of the hero i s composed of f o u r c h a p t e r s , which m i r r o r the p r o g r e s s i v e stages of Greene's own development as an a r t i s t . The f i r s t c hapter, e n t i t l e d "The O u t s i d e r as V i c t i m " , i s a study of Greene's e a r l y novels (perhaps one c o u l d c a l l them 'apprentice works'), which r e v e a l a world where, as the t i t l e suggests, the main c h a r a c t e r s are rendered impotent and are o f t e n destroyed by a f a t a l i s t i c and a l i e n world — the o n l y escape i s the o b l i v i o n of death. The sense of c h a r a c t e r i n these novels i s not s t r o n g ; Greene i s s t i l l l e a r n i n g h i s c r a f t , and because of t h i s the c h a r a c t e r s o f t e n appear as shadows d r i f t i n g through a r a t h e r n i g h t m a r i s h s c e n a r i o . Chapter Two, "Studies i n S o c i a l Determinism", c e n t r e s s p e c i f i c a l l y on two n o v e l s , A Gun f o r Sale and B r i g h t o n Rock. 4 In these two n o v e l s , and e s p e c i a l l y i n B r i g h t o n Rock, Greene develops the c o n f l i c t between determinism and f r e e w i l l ; the o u t s i d e r - h e r o i s shown to be, t o a g r e a t e x t e n t , a product of h i s own a l i e n a t e d c h i l d h o o d who yearns f o r l o v e and peace and y e t cannot escape the need f o r d e s t r u c t i o n and death t h a t h i s t o r t u r e d e x i s t e n c e has engendered. These two n o v e l s d i f f e r from the e a r l i e r ones mainly because they possess a much str o n g e r sense of c h a r a c t e r and p l a c e . L i k e the e a r l i e r p r o t a g o n i s t s however, both P i n k i e and Raven, i n s p i t e of the o c c a s i o n a l glimpses of 'freedom' t h a t each c h a r a c t e r has, are trapped and destroyed because u l t i m a t e l y they have no f r e e w i l l . They cannot choose to l i v e , s i n c e they are d e s t i n e d f o r d e s t r u c t i o n , and t o t a l l y c o n d i t i o n e d by con-f u s i o n and h a t r e d . Chapter Three, e n t i t l e d "The Rise of the I n d i v i d u a l " , d e a l s w i t h two of Greene's be s t n o v e l s , The Power and the G l o r y and The Heart of the Matter. In t h i s chapter I w i l l t r y to show t h a t an important change has taken p l a c e i n Greene's concept of c h a r a c t e r ; the p r o t a g o n i s t emerges as a f u l l y rounded i n d i v i d u a l who i s able to choose and to a c t i n s p i t e of the f a t a l i s t i c world t h a t hangs over him. He i s no l o n g e r a v i c t i m of h i s own i n -e v i t a b l e f a t e ; from now on Greene's p r o t a g o n i s t s w i l l have the s t r e n g t h to r i s e above t h e i r s i t u a t i o n , i f o n l y f o r one moment, i n o r d e r to e x e r c i s e some moral c o n t r o l over t h e i r d e s t i n y . The c o n c l u d i n g chapter, "Love and Commitment", which w i l l serve as a p o s t s c r i p t t o the main body of the t h e s i s , w i l l touch 5 on the means whereby the p r o t a g o n i s t i n Greene's l a t e r n o v e l s , (The End of the A f f a i r , The Quiet American, The Burnt-Out Case, and The Comedians) l e a r n s how to commit h i m s e l f t o l i f e , and how t o work out a f e a s i b l e p h i l o s o p h y which w i l l enable him t o s u r v i v e and hope i n the midst of a world i n which doubt and d e s p a i r s t i l l predominate. 6 CHAPTER ONE THE OUTSIDER AS VICTIM: THE EARLY NOVELS Here i s a p l a c e of d i s a f f e c t i o n Time b e f o r e and time a f t e r In a dim l i g h t : n e i t h e r d a y l i g h t I n v e s t i n g form with l u c i d s t i l l n e s s T u rning shadow i n t o t r a n s i e n t beauty With slow r o t a t i o n suggesting permanence Nor darkness t o p u r i f y the s o u l Emptying the sensual w i t h d e p r i v a t i o n C l e a n s i n g a f f e c t i o n from the temporal. N e i t h e r p l e n i t u d e nor vacancy. Only a f l i c k e r Over the s t r a i n e d t i m e - r i d d e n f a c e s D i s t r a c t e d from d i s t r a c t i o n by d i s t r a c t i o n F i l l e d w i t h f a n c i e s and empty of meaning Tumid apathy with no c o n c e n t r a t i o n Men and b i t s of paper, w h i r l e d by the c o l d wind That blows b e f o r e and a f t e r time, Wind i n and out of unwholesome lungs Time be f o r e and time a f t e r . E r u c t a t i o n of unhealthy s o u l s Into the faded a i r , the t o r p i d D r i v e n on the wind t h a t sweeps the gloomy h i l l s of London, Hampstead and C l e r k e n w e l l , Campden and Putney, Highgate, Primrose and Ludgate. Not here Not here the darkness, i n t h i s t w i t t e r i n g world. T. S. E l i o t , from "Burnt Norton" 7 A l l of Graham Greene's novels; are s t u d i e s i n l o n e l i n e s s , s e t i n a world where l o n e l i n e s s i s j u s t one symptom of man's f a i l u r e t o r i s e above the f o r c e s t h a t c o n s p i r e a g a i n s t him. T h i s q u a l i t y of l o n e l i n e s s , or to use a more modern term, a l i e n a t i o n , i s a constant f o r c e i n Greene's f i c t i o n from beginning t o end — the sense of man separated, unable to communicate or to l o v e , f i g h t i n g t o c o n t r o l h i s own d e s t i n y y e t being d r i v e n by elements w i t h i n h i m s e l f or i n the s u r -rounding environment towards an unchosen f a t e . J u l e s B r i t o n i n I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d i s an e a r l y v i c t i m of t h i s a l l - p e r v a s i v e s t a t e of emptiness: L o n e l i n e s s was o n l y too e a s i l y a t t a i n e d ; i t was i n the a i r one breathed; open any door, i t opened on to l o n e l i n e s s i n the passage; c l o s e the door at n i g h t , one shut l o n e l i n e s s i n . The toothbrush, the c h a i r , the ewer and the bed were dents i n l o n e l i n e s s . The sorrow g r i p p e d him f o r a l l the u s e l e s s s u f f e r i n g he c o u l d do n o t h i n g to ease, he was t o r n by h u m i l i t y , he was desperate^ f o r a p l a c e i n the world, a t a s k , a duty. 'A p l a c e i n the world' i s e s s e n t i a l l y what a l l of Greene's c e n t r a l c h a r a c t e r s are s e a r c h i n g f o r , a commitment t o some-t h i n g g r e a t e r than t h e i r own s u r v i v a l , a purpose f o r l i v i n g which w i l l enable them to escape the l o n e l i n e s s and f a i l u r e 8 t h a t c o n t i n u a l l y haunt t h e i r minds. Developed i n many d i f f e r -ent ways, emphasized more i n some books than i n o t h e r s , t h i s i s the theme t h a t s t a y s w i t h Greene the n o v e l i s t throughout h i s c a r e e r . H i s novels e x p l o r e many d i f f e r e n t aspects of the problem, and as Greene's v i s i o n deepens and matures, the image of man i n h i s novels undergoes a s u b t l e y e t profound metamorphosis. His books become i n c r e a s i n g l y c e n t r e d around a s i n g l e male p r o t a g o n i s t , who slowly and f a l t e r i n g l y con-f r o n t s h i s own e x i s t e n c e and makes i n h i s own way h i s separate peace. A f t e r the a b o r t i v e romanticism of The Man W i t h i n , however, Greene's e a r l y n o v e l s a v o i d the concept of the hero i n o r d e r to develop and e x p l o r e the p l i g h t of the anonymous ' o u t s i d e r s ' and t h e i r d e s p a i r i n g attempts t o s u r v i v e i n the malignant t w e n t i e t h century world. A f t e r Harry Andrews, the melodramatic p r o t a g o n i s t of The Man W i t h i n , i t i s not u n t i l one reaches the whisky p r i e s t i n The Power and the G l o r y and Scobie i n The Heart of the Matter t h a t one sees a c h a r a c t e r whose consciousness so dominates h i s r e s p e c t i v e n o v e l . Greene, r e a l i z i n g t h a t Harry Andrews and to some extent the whole of The Man W i t h i n , was i n many r e s p e c t s a f a i l u r e , c o n c e n trates i n the novels immediately f o l l o w i n g on g r a p h i c a l l y d e l i n e a t i n g the e x t e r n a l f o r c e s t h a t a c t on h i s c h a r a c t e r s and on develop-in g and r e f i n i n g h i s a r t . I t i s o n l y when some s o r t of 'world p i c t u r e ' has been formed t h a t the 'hero' can emerge to grapple w i t h t h a t world. 9 When The Man Wi t h i n was p u b l i s h e d i n the 1952 uniform e d i t i o n of Greene's works, Greene wrote f o r i t an Author 1 s Note d e s c r i b i n g h i s r e a c t i o n s t o h i s f i r s t p u b l i s h e d n o v e l , which had appeared i n 1929. The other day I t r i e d t o r e v i s e i t f o r t h i s e d i t i o n , but when I had f i n i s h e d my sad and hopeless t a s k , the s t o r y remained j u s t as embarrassingly romantic, the s t y l e as d e r i v a t i v e , and I had e l i m i n a t e d per-haps the onl y q u a l i t y i t possessed -- i t s youth. The Man W i t h i n c e r t a i n l y shows i t s youth. I t s prose i s o f t e n o v e r l y l u s h and c o m i c a l l y melodramatic; the book i s f u l l of what George Or w e l l d e s c r i b e s as 'purple passages', and the c h a r a c t e r s are on the whole as u n r e a l as the s e t t i n g , which i s l u r i d and shapeless. But although i t l a c k s a g r e a t d e a l i n m a t u r i t y and technique, the b a s i c themes t h a t Greene dw e l l s on throughout h i s w r i t i n g s are t h e r e , i n embryo form. The book i s s e t on the south c o a s t of England, sometime i n the e a r l y 19th ce n t u r y , the time of the s o - c a l l e d rum-runners who smuggled i l l e g a l l i q u o r i n t o the country. The c e n t r a l f i g u r e i n the book, twenty-one-year-old F r a n c i s Andrews, i s a smuggler who has betrayed h i s c a p t a i n and crew to the a u t h o r i t i e s . When we f i r s t meet him he i s on the run, knowing t h a t the c a p t a i n of the smuggler's s h i p and two crewmen have escaped capture and are t r a c k i n g him down. Greene seems, at f i r s t g l a n c e , t o be w r i t i n g an adventure s t o r y , but i n f a c t the a c t i o n or p l o t i n the novel i s secondary t o the e x p l o r a t i o n 10 and development of F r a n c i s Andrews' c h a r a c t e r . The use of the t h r i l l e r - l i k e p l o t w i l l become a standard Greene technique, w i t h one major change; a f t e r The Man W i t h i n he abandons the h i s t o r i c a l romance f o r dramas of contemporary l i f e , and i n consequence h i s s t y l e and c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n become more immediate and r e a l i s t i c . He moves from romance t o r e a l i s m i n h i s render-ing of modern e x i s t e n c e i n much the same way as O r w e l l progressed from the romanticism o f The Clergyman's Daughter to the i n t e n s e l y r e a l i s t i c p o r t r a y a l of the underworld of the poor i n Down and  Out i n London and P a r i s . T h i s growing r e a l i s m w i l l be d i s c u s s e d f u r t h e r , but i n the main i t e n t a i l s a changing use of s e t t i n g — a c l o s e r and more o b j e c t i v e use of the surrounding d e t a i l s and o b j e c t s -- and a d i f f e r e n t concept of c h a r a c t e r . His c h a r a c t e r s become f a r e more l i m i t e d i n t h e i r scope, f a r l e s s capable of the 'heroic g e s t u r e ' , and perhaps i n consequence more human and more t r u e to the framework of t h e i r world. The t h r i l l e r , however, w i t h i t s emphasis on the chase, the hunted and the hunter, o p p r e s s i o n and v i c t i m i z a t i o n , j u s t i c e and i n j u s t i c e , and the sense of f e a r and bewilderment which pervades the whole genre, remains a u s e f u l framework f o r Greene s i n c e i t p r o v i d e s an image of contemporary e x i s t e n c e t h a t i s b a s i c to Greene's v i s i o n of l i f e . As David Pryce-Jones argues, " . . . Greene i s u s i n g popular forms to get across the c o n f u s i o n s of the 3 t w e n t i e t h century." Andrews i s a strange young man, completely u n s u i t e d t o the smuggling l i f e , and c o n t i n u a l l y t o r n apart by a d i v i d e d 11 nature and an i n t e n s e f e e l i n g of h i s own cowardice. He f e e l s t h a t h i s c h a r a c t e r i s d i v i d e d , almost l i t e r a l l y , down the middle. "He was, he knew, embarrassingly made up of two per-sons, the s e n t i m e n t a l , b u l l y i n g , d e s i r i n g c h i l d and another 4 more s t e r n c r i t i c . " Andrews, agonized by t h i s s p l i t i n h i s c h a r a c t e r , asks h i m s e l f , "Why should any man be plagued as he had been plagued, with a l l the i n s t i n c t s — d e s i r e s , f e a r s , comforts — of a c h i l d and y e t possess the wisdom of a man? In these moments of c r i s i s he f e l t p h y s i c a l l y drawn i n two --5 an a g o n i z i n g s t r e t c h of the nerves". Andrews i s completely aware of the constant b a t t l e between the two s i d e s of h i s nature, and he knows t h a t i n order t o become a man the 'more s t e r n c r i t i c ' which r e s i d e s i n him must g a i n the upper hand over h i s weak and sensuous t e n d e n c i e s . I t i s h i s a c c i d e n t a l meeting w i t h E l i z a b e t h , whose cottage he stumbles i n t o , exhausted and t r e m b l i n g w i t h f e a r , which g i v e s him the purpose needed i n order t o come t o g r i p s w i t h h i s d e l i n q u e n t c h a r a c t e r . She p r o v i d e s through her almost maternal warmth and wisdom the impetus needed t o vanquish the c h i l d i s h cowardice t h a t overwhelms him. Many of Greene's c h a r a c t e r s are obsessed w i t h human s e x u a l i t y , and F r a n c i s Andrews i s no e x c e p t i o n : he i s both f a s c i n a t e d and d i s g u s t e d by h i s own d e s i r e s and by the evidence of s e x u a l i t y around him, and t r i e s d e s p e r a t e l y to subdue the l u s t s of what he c o n s i d e r s t o be h i s 'lower' nature. Andrews perhaps i n t e r p r e t s the C h r i s t i a n view of man too l i t e r a l l y ; he sees h i m s e l f as h a l f animal, h a l f man, t o r n between h i s l u s t f u l , i r r a t i o n a l d e s i r e s and h i s need f o r a 'true' r e l a t i o n -s h i p above the s o r d i d n e s s of s e x u a l i t y . Throughout the s t o r y , Andrews i s bound t o h i s l u s t , y e t i s c o n s t a n t l y s e a r c h i n g f o r l o v e . As he stumbles h a l f - c o n s c i o u s through the woods at the beginning of the s t o r y , he t h i n k s he i s i n the f a i r y t a l e wood of Hansel and G r e t e l , and t h a t G r e t e l i s h i s c h i l d h o o d l o v e , never t o be found again. He and G r e t e l had k i s s e d under the h o l l y t r e e on the common one s p r i n g day. Across a f a i n t l y c o l o u r e d sky a few plump clouds had tumbled r e c k l e s s l y . And then time and again he was walking up narrow s t a i r s t o s m a l l rooms and u n t i d y beds, and walking down again f e e l i n g d i s s a t i s f i e d , because he had never found G r e t e l t h e r e . Andrews' s e l f - h a t e i s o n l y e q u a l l e d by h i s s e l f - p i t y ; he i s c o n s t a n t l y seeing h i m s e l f as a h e l p l e s s v i c t i m of the world a t l a r g e , b u f f e t t e d by the storm of f a t e . "A wave of s e l f - p i t y passed a c r o s s h i s mind and he saw h i m s e l f f r i e n d -l e s s and alone, chased by harsh enemies through an u n i n t e r e s t e d world . . . I c o u l d be made i n t o a man i f anyone chose t o be 7 i n t e r e s t e d — i f someone b e l i e v e d i n me." Andrews, l o v e l e s s and alone, does however f i n d something to which he can commit h i m s e l f — the s a i n t l y E l i z a b e t h , who e v e n t u a l l y draws out h i s 'higher' nature and e s t a b l i s h e s i t as dominant over the other l u s t f u l y e t a l i e n a t e d h a l f . E l i z a b e t h i s a p u r e l y i d e a l i z e d c h a r a c t e r , a woman who remains unexplored as a person because she i s i n the book f o r one reason — to exude s a i n t l i n e s s , and t o o f f e r an i d e a l i z e d love t h a t Andrews can s t r i v e f o r . She i s the c a t a l y s t f o r Andrews' growth i n t o manhood and m o r a l i t y . Andrews s u f f e r s from an excess of s e l f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s ; he i s so aware of h i m s e l f and h i s f a u l t s t h a t h i s g r e a t e s t g d e s i r e i s "to be n u l l and v o i d " ; he longs t o become un-conscious of the clamouring ego, to l o s e s i g h t of h i m s e l f i n another phenomenon, whether i t i s i n s p i r i n g music or the emotion of l o v e , and u l t i m a t e l y , perhaps, t o l o s e c o n s c i o u s -ness f o r e v e r . When he f a l l s i n l o v e with E l i z a b e t h he experiences t h i s p l e a s u r a b l e v o i d , which i n s t i l l s i n him a d e s i r e t o make some k i n d of o f f e r i n g : A gap of shadow separated them, and the f l i c k e r i n g of the flames made u s e l e s s but p e r s i s t e n t attempts t o c r o s s i t . He was shamed by the p a t i e n t o b s t i n a c y of t h e i r compassion and was t e m p o r a r i l y r a p t from h i s own f e a r , h a t r e d and self-abasement, touched f o r a l i g h t n i n g i n s t a n t w i t h a d i s i n t e r e s t e d l o n g i n g f o r s e l f - s a c r i f i c e . . . . For t h a t i n s t a n t h i s second c r i t i c i z i n g s e ^ f was s i l e n t ; indeed he was t h a t s e l f . Greene's o f t e n p u r i t a n i c a l C a t h o l i c i s m (he became a convert i n 1926) c r e a t e s a c o n f l i c t of l o y a l t i e s w i t h i n many of h i s major c h a r a c t e r s . Does one owe one's l o y a l t y t o God, t o the woman one l o v e s , or to o n e s e l f ? I f , as Pryce-Jones suggests " . . . l u s t i s s i n f u l abandonment of the f l e s h , l o v e i s v i r t u o u s abnegation of the s e l f . . . any k i n d of sensual g r a t i f i c a t i o n i s suspect: the c h a r a c t e r f i g h t s a c o n t i n u a l b a t t l e between h i s i n s t i n c t u a l needs on the one 14 hand, and h i s conscience on the o t h e r , which demands adherence t o a t o t a l l y d i f f e r e n t code of e t h i c s . In t h i s k i n d of s t r u g g l e t h e r e can be no f u l f i l l m e n t ; one e i t h e r f i g h t s a g a i n s t God, r e j e c t s love a l t o g e t h e r , or d e s t r o y s the s e l f out of the sheer i n a b i l i t y t o cope wi t h the i n n e r d i v i s i o n . None of Greene's p r o t a g o n i s t s are able to s o l v e t h i s dilemma completely. Scobie r e p r e s e n t s perhaps the most profound d r a m a t i z a t i o n of the k i n d of d e s p a i r t h a t t h i s c o n f l i c t can produce, but i n Greene's l a t e r novels one begins t o see the emergence of i n d i v i d u a l s who can cope wi t h t h i s t e n s i o n . P r o t a g o n i s t s l i k e Bendrix, Fowler, Querry and Brown are aware of the e s s e n t i a l a b s u r d i t y of the human c o n d i t i o n , but they do not r e j e c t l i f e because of i t . They are able i n d i f f e r i n g degrees to m a i n t a i n an e q u i l -i b r i u m , p r e c a r i o u s as i t i s , t h a t i s i m p o s s i b l e f o r many of Greene's e a r l i e r heroes. They, too, search f o r commitment, but t o the a m b i g u i t i e s of e x i s t e n c e r a t h e r than t o s t a t i c p r i n c i p l e s which o f t e n b r i n g about death, i n the way t h a t Andrews' l o y a l t y t o E l i z a b e t h and h i s 'higher nature' b r i n g s him t o s u i c i d e . Love, f o r Andrews, i s p r i m a r i l y peace, escape from the p r i s o n of the c r i t i c i z i n g s e l f . Andrews longs p a s s i o n a t e l y f o r peace — "peace was a s a n i t y which he d i d not b e l i e v e t h a t he had ever known"''"''" — and i t i s E l i z a b e t h ' s p e a c e f u l nature and s e r e n i t y t h a t a t t r a c t s Andrews so p o w e r f u l l y . When they f i n a l l y admit t h e i r l o v e f o r each other, a f t e r Andrews, through E l i z a b e t h ' s p e r s u a s i o n , has journeyed to the A s s i z e s a t Lewes to g i v e evidence a g a i n s t the smugglers, Andrews says t o E l i z a -beth: "You must possess me, go on p o s s e s s i n g me, never leave 12 me to myself." Andrews commits h i m s e l f t o a hazardous course of a c t i o n at E l i z a b e t h ' s u r g i n g i n order t o redeem h i m s e l f from h i s o r i g i n a l a c t o f b e t r a y a l . S i g n i f i c a n t l y enough, he b e t r a y s h i s shipmates t o the law i n order t o show them t h a t , i n e f f e c t u a l as he may have seemed, he has the power t o b r i n g them a l l to r u i n -- a d e s p a i r i n g deed of an i s o l a t e d man. He g i v e s evidence a g a i n s t them i n a town t h a t i s run by the smugglers, and r e c e i v e s n o t h i n g f o r h i s pa i n s but t h r e a t s of death and p u b l i c scorn? h i s evidence i s u s e l e s s s i n c e t h e r e i s no j u s t i c e i n Lewes, or anywhere e l s e , as Greene so o f t e n p o i n t s out. As the prosecu-t i o n lawyer says, " ' I f you want to stamp out smuggling you 13 must do away wit h the i d e a of j u s t i c e ' . " Although j u s t i c e i s not c a r r i e d out and the smugglers are s e t f r e e t o hunt him down, Andrews has a t l e a s t had the courage t o denounce the smugglers p u b l i c a l l y r a t h e r than c o n t i n u i n g t o hide behind the anonymous note of b e t r a y a l . As i n other key s i t u a t i o n s i n the course of Greene's n o v e l s , Andrews puts c o n v i c t i o n over p e r s o n a l s u r v i v a l , the very o p p o s i t e of h i s p r e v i o u s code of e x i s t e n c e . His sense of d i g n i t y and p e r s o n a l worth become more important than the mere saving of h i s s k i n ; he i s committed t o a course of a c t i o n , s i n c e o n l y by p r i n c i p l e and a c t i o n can a man f i n d some purpose f o r l i v i n g . Andrews bemoans t h i s f a c t , but accepts i t : " I f i t were ba r r e n of d e s i r e and of the need of any a c t i o n how sweet l i f e would be. I f i t were only t h i s c o olness . . . . ""^  So the p r o t a g o n i s t , we are l e d t o b e l i e v e , f i n d s freedom from h i s cowardice, h i s l u s t and h i s f e a r through h i s f a i t h i n the love f o r E l i z a b e t h , which more i m p o r t a n t l y s t i m u l a t e s h i s f a i t h i n h i m s e l f . The world t h a t Greene w r i t e s about, however, may a l l o w , a l b e i t at g r e a t c o s t , an e x p r e s s i o n of freedom, but i t r a r e l y i f ever allows the rewards t h a t a l i b e r a t i n g act c o u l d b r i n g . E l i z a b e t h commits s u i c i d e w h i l e being a t t a c k e d by one of the smugglers and Andrews, t o com-p l e t e the melodrama, i s i n the process of committing s u i c i d e as the book ends. He r e t u r n s t o E l i z a b e t h ' s c a b i n from the t r i a l a t Lewes knowing t h a t he w i l l be i n danger of death, but s u r v i v a l has become f a r l e s s important than the e f f o r t of m a i n t a i n i n g some sense of d i g n i t y and purpose i n a r a t h e r f o u l world. "He f e l t no f e a r of death, but a t e r r o r of l i f e , of going on s o i l i n g h i m s e l f a g a i n . There was, he f e l t , no 15 escape. He had no w i l l l e f t . " The s u r f a c e p r o g r e s s i o n i n The Man W i t h i n , i f one can see through the foggy melodramatic atmosphere, i s from f a t a l i s m t o freedom. Andrews throughout the major p a r t of the book d e s p a i r s of ever being a b l e t o c o n t r o l h i s a c t i o n s , s i n c e he f e e l s h i s behaviour i s completely c o n t r o l l e d by h e r e d i t y . " I t ' s not a man's f a u l t whether he;'s brave or cowardly. I t ' s a l l i n the way he's born. My f a t h e r and mother made me. I 16 d i d n ' t make myself." T h i s sense of f a t a l i s m , which Greene develops i n t o a f a r more s u b t l e and p e r v a s i v e f e e l i n g i n h i s l a t e r n o v e l s , i s what 17 Andrews f i n a l l y overcomes when he r e b e l s through s u i c i d e . H i s new-found freedom i s not the freedom t o l i v e , but the freedom t o r e j e c t l i f e . He does not come t o g r i p s w i t h any of the problems of h i s e x i s t e n c e , and h i s s u i c i d e i s not spurred on by any commitment t o love or t o a code of e t h i c s , but s o l e l y by a d i s t a s t e and h o r r o r o f l i f e . The c o n c l u s i o n of The Man  Wi t h i n i s b a s i c a l l y f a l s e , however, because the author's sympathy o b v i o u s l y l i e s w ith Andrews' chosen 'heroism'. Greene i s not conscious i n t h i s f i r s t n o v e l t h a t the lo v e t h a t E l i z a b e t h o f f e r s i s the e q u i v a l e n t of death, t h a t Andrews' heroism i s cowardice, and t h a t the promptings of h i s 'higher nature' which Andrews f i n a l l y accepts are nothing more than a strong death-wish. L i k e so many of Greene's heroes, Andrews has a deep ha t r e d of h i s f a t h e r , and commits s u i c i d e mainly t o s p i t e the f a t h e r f i g u r e w i t h i n him. Once on h i s way to death, a strange k i n d of peace over-whelms him: To h i s own s u r p r i s e he f e l t happy and at peace, f o r h i s f a t h e r was s l a i n and y e t a s e l f remained, a s e l f which knew n e i t h e r l u s t , blasphemy nor cowardice, but o n l y peace and c u r i o s i t y |cyr the dark, which deepened around him. A purge has taken p l a c e , but i t i s an unconvincing one. Andrews r e j e c t s l i f e without ever having l i v e d — he does not e x e r c i s e h i s f r e e w i l l but merely f o l l o w s a f a t a l i s t i c pro-p e n s i t y f o r death. 18 Greene r e a l i z e d t h a t he had to go beyond t h i s k i n d of melodramatic s i m p l i c i t y — t h a t he had t o expl o r e the world of the l i v i n g , not the land o f the s t i l l - b o r n . * * * A f t e r The Man Wi t h i n Greene wrote two f o r g o t t e n and long o u t - o f - p r i n t n o v e l s , Rumour at N i g h t f a l l and The Name of A c t i o n , which maintained the vague a i r of h i s t o r i c a l romance and melo-drama t h a t so i r r i t a t e s the reader i n h i s f i r s t n o v e l . As the s a l e s of h i s novels f e l l d r a s t i c a l l y Greene was spurred i n t o r e v i s i n g h i s whole technique; from now on romance would be s u b s e r v i e n t t o r e a l i s m : he would w r i t e about h i s own contemp-o r a r y world, and i n c o n t r a s t t o the vague s e t t i n g and shapeless c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n of h i s f i r s t t h r e e books, he would l e a r n t o p i n p o i n t d e t a i l s of landscape and c h a r a c t e r i n a way d i s t i n c t i v e enough t o become h i s p e r s o n a l and immediately r e c o g n i z a b l e trademark. By the time of the p u b l i c a t i o n of Stamboul T r a i n i n 1932, Greene has i n t h r e e years become a d i f f e r e n t w r i t e r , except f o r the same b a s i c obsessions which w i l l remain w i t h him throughout h i s w r i t i n g c a r e e r . Technique -- s u b j e c t matter, s e t t i n g , c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n , use of d i a l o g u e — has been changed and sharpened t o a new h e i g h t of i n t e n s i t y . Greene's view i s now d i r e c t e d outward, towards s o c i e t y , and c h a r a c t e r s become i n d i v i d u a l s i n t h e i r own r i g h t r a t h e r than a l l being f a c e t s of the same person — Greene h i m s e l f , young, i n t r o s p e c t i v e and p o e t i c . P h i l i p S t r a t f o r d w r i t e s i n F a i t h and F i c t i o n : C r e a t i v e Process i n Greene and Mauriae: 19 In h i s own case added y e a r s , disappointment, even the t h r e a t of f a i l u r e as a n o v e l i s t c e r t a i n l y p l a y e d t h e i r p a r t i n d e c i d i n g a more mature a t t i t u d e . For the f i r s t time, too, because of the d e p r e s s i o n and s o c i a l u n r e s t a t home and i n Europe, Greene began to see a r e f l e c t i o n of h i s p r i v a t e a n x i e t -i e s i n the world of p u b l i c a f f a i r s . His f i r s t t h r e e novels had belonged, l i k e Mauriac's to a l y r i c phase when he was engrossed i n h i s own drama and was mainly concerned to t e s t the v a l i d i t y of h i s own p e r c e p t i o n s and s e n s i t i v i t y . In Stamboul  T r a i n , t o g e t h e r w i t h the new o b j e c t i v i t y i n approach gained through g r e a t e r t e c h n i c a l c o n t r o l , t h e r e was the f i r s t evidence of a s o c i a l conscience which grew i n c r e a s i n g l y important i n the f o l l o w i n g n o v e l s , a sense t h a t what the author was d e s c r i b i n g was not j u s t a h i g h l y p e r s o n a l matter, but the common l o t . 1 Greene d i s c o v e r e d t h a t the problem of the i n d i v i d u a l ' s search f o r a purpose i n l i f e must be brought back t o the beginning and s t a r t e d from a f r e s h v iewpoint. In The Man  W i t h i n Greene c r u d e l y e x p l o r e d the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of commit-ment and escape from a sense of f a t a l i s m t h a t p a r a l y z e s the c h a r a c t e r i n immaturity and allows no room f o r development, but h i s use of t h i s theme was immature. His melodramatic and romantic treatment of the s u b j e c t had i n e f f e c t imposed an a r t i f i c i a l s o l u t i o n on an a r t i f i c i a l background, and the double s u i c i d e at the end was d r a m a t i c a l l y meaningless. What he had t o do now was to e x p l o r e the harsh world around him, get i n touch w i t h the contemporary d e t a i l s of e x i s t e n c e , l e a r n what f o r c e s a man or woman of our age i s exposed t o , and b a s i c a l l y t o r e i n f o r c e h i s p e r s o n a l o b s e s s i o n w i t h a technique t h a t would b r i n g h i s c h a r a c t e r s and the world i n which they l i v e i n t o sharper f o c u s . He had to e x p l o r e and comprehend the environment h i s c h a r a c t e r s operated i n bef o r e he c o u l d understand the f o r c e s t h a t c o n t r o l them. Only by l e a r n i n g o f the f o r c e s of f a t a l i s m c o u l d he understand the process of freedom; on l y then c o u l d he r e t u r n t o the s u b j e c t of commitment on a more mature l e v e l , and onl y then can an ac t such as s u i c i d e , perhaps the u l t i m a t e a c t of r e b e l l i o n a g a i n s t a b e w i l d e r i n g world, have any meaning. His next fo u r n o v e l s develop the b a t t l e f i e l d on which h i s c h a r a c t e r s e x i s t . The l a t e r n o v e l s , once the nature of the world has been determined, are more concerned w i t h man's p o s s i b i l i t i e s of freedom, a c c e p t i n g the s t r i c t l i m i t a t i o n s h i s environment and h i s own nature put upon him. Stamboul T r a i n i s centered around a t r a i n journey from Ostende t o I s t a n b u l . The journey i t s e l f i s not o n l y an e f f e c t i v e d e v i c e on Greene's p a r t t o gather a motley group of s t r a n g e r s t o g e t h e r i n t o c l o s e and, i n a sense, i n v o l u n t a r y p r o x i m i t y , but i t a l s o works as a p e r v a s i v e metaphor of i s o l a -t i o n . On the t r a i n Greene's c h a r a c t e r s are i n a d i f f e r e n t world, cut o f f from t h e i r normal environment and t h e i r normal va l u e s by g l a s s and s t e e l and speed. The journey f o r c e s them i n t o an i n t e r i m e x i s t e n c e ; not o n l y a p a s s i v e e x i s t e n c e of w a i t i n g but a moment as i t were i n which they have time t o step back from t h e i r r o u t i n e - f i l l e d l i v e s and to observe i n v a r y i n g degrees the p a t t e r n of t h e i r i s o l a t i o n . "In the t r a i n , however f a s t i t t r a v e l l e d , the passengers were c o m p u l s o r i l y a t r e s t ; u s e l e s s between the w a l l s of g l a s s t o f e e l emotion, u s e l e s s t o t r y t o f o l l o w any a c t i v i t y except of the mind; and 19 t h a t a c t i v i t y c o u l d be f o l l o w e d without f e a r of i n t e r r u p t i o n . " The passengers are an odd c o l l e c t i o n of people, a l l i s o l a t e d from the g e n e r a l mass of the E n g l i s h people i n some way, whether i t i s t h e i r r a c e , t h e i r p r o f e s s i o n or j u s t t h e i r nature. C a r l e t o n Myatt i s a wealthy Jew sho s e l l s c u r r a n t s , q u i t e c l o s e l y modelled on a c h a r a c t e r from E l i o t ' s "The Waste Land': Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant Unshaven, wi t h a pocket f u l l of c u r r a n t s C . i . f . London: documents at s i g h t , Asked me i n demotic French To luncheon a t the Cannon S t r e e t H o t e l Followed by a weekend at the Metropole. C o r a l Musker i s a young dancer i n a second-rate chorus l i n e ; Dr. Czinner i s an aging r e v o l u t i o n a r y presumed k i l l e d i n Belgrade f i v e years e a r l i e r , r e t u r n i n g t o h i s country t o s t a r t a new u p r i s i n g a f t e r spending the l a s t f i v e years i n e x i l e i n England. The other l e s s c e n t r a l c h a r a c t e r s m a i n t a i n t h i s atmosphere of i n c o n g r u i t y — Mable Warren, the harsh l e s b i a n r e p o r t e r , J o s e f G r u n l i c h , the p e t t y t h i e f who graduates t o murder, even Quin Savery, the Cockney b e s t - s e l l i n g n o v e l i s t whom Greene seems to have i n c l u d e d p a r t l y i n order to get i n a few d i g s a t 'popular' l i t e r a t u r e w h i l e t r y i n g t o w r i t e i t h i m s e l f . Myatt and C o r a l have a b r i e f a f f a i r aboard the t r a i n , and Myatt, who i s used t o these b r i e f i n t e r l u d e s between h i s more important b u s i n e s s engagements, i s s u r p r i s e d to l e a r n t h a t C o r a l i s a v i r g i n . "He was touched by the complete absence of coquetry, and remembered again w i t h sudden f o r c e t h a t he 21 had been her f i r s t l o v e r . " The sudden and unexpected tenderness t h a t they f e e l f o r each other i n a world r u l e d by c a l l o u s n e s s and u b i q u i t o u s l u s t , although i t t a p e r s o f f r a p i d l y , i s one of the two scenes i n the book i n which one person shows, not los?e, but a t l e a s t a f f e c t i o n and concern f o r another. Myatt and C o r a l are both r a t h e r p i t i a b l e c h a r a c t e r s , Myatt because of h i s i n t e n s e l y s e l f - c o n s c i o u s Jewishness and h i s sense of i s o l a t i o n , C o r a l because of her c h i l d l i k e y e t c u r i o u s l y w o r l d l y innocence. She i s the f i r s t of Greene's child-women, f l u n g i n t o the world of a d u l t c y n i c i s m without the necessary i n s t i n c t s of s e l f -p r e s e r v a t i o n . Although C o r a l ' s c h a r a c t e r has none of the t r a g i c aspects of P i n k i e ' s g i r l , Rose, i n B r i g h t o n Rock, they share the same q u a l i t y of r e c k l e s s innocence t h a t i s l i k e a burden t o them i n the f a l l e n world t h a t surrounds them. Even a p a s s i o n l e s s emotion l i k e a f f e c t i o n i s r a r e i n Stamboul T r a i n . Mabel Warren's emotions are p r i m a r i l y des-t r u c t i v e — even the 'love' she f e e l s f o r her companion Janet Pardoe i s a f i c k l e , p o s s e s s i v e , s e l f i s h emotion. But: " . . . when t h e r e was a ch o i c e between love of a woman and hate of a man, her mind c o u l d c h e r i s h only one emotion, f o r her love might be a s u b j e c t f o r l a u g h t e r , but no-one ever 22 mocked her h a t r e d . " J o s e f G r u n l i c h i s the f i r s t i n Greene's long l i n e of thugs, u n l i k e F r e d H a l l i n England Made Me only because h i s 23 d e v o t i o n i s d i r e c t e d towards h i m s e l f r a t h e r than towards another. He i s p u r e l y n e g a t i v e and d e s t r u c t i v e , inhuman t o a degree t h a t c h a r a c t e r s l i k e P i n k i e and Raven, who share h i s c r i m i n a l i t y and p r o p e n s i t y towards v i o l e n c e , are in c a p a b l e o f . He c o n t i n u a l l y g l o a t s on h i s a b i l i t y t o murder: But i t was a bad moment a l l the same, thought J o s e f , s t a r i n g out 'into the f a l l i n g snow, when the doctor s p o t t e d t h a t h i s bag had been moved. I'd got my f i n g e r on the s t r i n g . I f he'd t r i e d to c a l l the guard I'd have shot him i n the stomach before he c o u l d shout a word. J o s e f laughed again h a p p i l y , f e e l i n g h i s r e v o l v e r rub g e n t l y a g a i n s t the sore on the i n s i d e of his2^nee: I'd have s p l i t h i s guts f o r him. Dr. C z i n n e r , the aging r e v o l u t i o n a r y , i s even more cut o f f and a l i e n a t e d from the world about him than h i s f e l l o w passengers. He i s i n many ways the c e n t r a l f i g u r e i n Stamboul T r a i n — alone, hunted by the a u t h o r i t i e s , h i d i n g under an assumed name, he i s a p r e c u r s o r t o the long l i n e of s i m i l a r l y hunted, obsessed and abandoned f i g u r e s around whom Greene's novels r e v o l v e . L i k e the whiskey p r i e s t i n The Power and the Gl o r y , he has d e d i c a t e d h i s l i f e toward the s a l v a t i o n of h i s countrymen, on l y h i s kind"of s a l v a t i o n i s economic and s o c i a l r a t h e r than r e l i g i o u s . He i s r e t u r n i n g t o h i s e a s t e r n European country, h i s home, i n order t o become a martyr f o r h i s cause, ye t nobody seems to want him, and he i s k i l l e d a t the border without ever r e a c h i n g h i s d e s t i n a t i o n . His mind i s f i l l e d w i t h the same sense of f a t e , of l o n g i n g f o r death, of l o s s and d e s p a i r and i n a b i l i t y t o hate h i s enemies t h a t weigh on 24 and haunt the whiskey p r i e s t t o h i s death. I r o n i c a l l y he i s f i g h t i n g f o r j u s t i c e i n a world t h a t i s i n h e r e n t l y u n j u s t . As he d i e s he r e a l i z e s the f u t i l i t y of h i s l i f e - l o n g s t r u g g l e : The world was c h a o t i c ; when the poor were s t a r v e d and the r i c h were not happier f o r i t ; when the t h i e f might be punished or rewarded w i t h t i t l e s ; when wheat was burned i n Canada and c o f f e e i n B r a z i l , and the poor i n h i s own country had no money f o r bread and f r o z e to death i n unheated rooms; the world was out of j o i n t and he had done h i s 2 ^ e s t to s e t i t r i g h t , but t h a t was over. As he d i e s i n a shed at the border he r e a l i z e s t h a t h i s f a i t h f u l n e s s t o h i s cause had a r i g i d i t y about i t , as does any f a i t h , which made him i n e f f e c t u a l i n a world i n which s u r v i v a l depends on f l e x i b i l i t y . I t i s h i s sense of duty t h a t has doomed him and made him t r a g i c a l l y a r c h a i c i n an u n p r i n c i p l e d world. In a p e r c e p t i v e f l a s h he sees: . . . the express i n which they had t r a v e l l e d breaking the dark sky l i k e a r o c k e t . They clung t o i t w i t h every stratagem i n t h e i r power, l e a n i n g t h i s way and l e a n i n g t h a t , a l t e r i n g the b a l -ance now i n t h i s d i r e c t i o n , now i n t h a t . One had t o be very a l i v e , very f l e x i b l e , very o p p o r t u n i s t . . . . His f a t h e r and mother bobbed at him t h e i r seamed t h i n f a c e s , f o l l o w e d him through the e t h e r , past the rush of s t a r s , t e l l i n g him t h a t they were g l a d and g r a t e f u l , t h a t he had done what he c o u l d , t h a t he had been f a i t h f u l . He wanted t o say t o them t h a t he had been damned by h i s f a i t h f u l n e s s , t h a t one must le a n t h i s way and t h a t , but he had to l i s t e n a l l the way t o t h e i r f a l s e 2 ^ comfort, f a l l i n g and f a l l i n g i n g r e a t p a i n . Once again , as i n The Man W i t h i n , a woman o f f e r s the saving grace of humanity and sympathetic concern i n an otherwise t o t a l l y unsympathetic environment. C o r a l Musker s t a y s behind w i t h Czinner when he i s shot d u r i n g t h e i r attempted escape from the customs o f f i c e . She stay s w i t h him i n the c l a u s t r o p h i c packing shed throughout the n i g h t , scared and trapped h e r s e l f as she t r i e s t o o f f e r some k i n d of comfort and sympathy t o the dying man. T h i s scene c l o s e l y p a r a l l e l s the one i n A Gun f o r S a l e , where Anne Crowder and Raven spend a f r i g h t e n e d n i g h t i n the l i t t l e shed, surrounded by the p o l i c e . The c o n t r a s t between the s a i n t l y , i d e a l i s t i c a l l y drawn E l i z a b e t h of The Man Wi t h i n and the t a r n i s h e d innocence and p a t h e t i c f e a r and t i m i d i t y of C o r a l Musker, does show, however, how Greene's f i c t i o n a l world has evolved i n the th r e e years between the two n o v e l s . In Stamboul T r a i n t h e r e i s no tri u m p h a n t l y romantic end, o n l y a p a i n f u l , p u r p o s e l e s s death and a neat s h u f f l i n g of the c h a r a c t e r s i n t o new combinations as the s t o r y ends. Myatt decides i t would be p r o f i t a b l e t o marry Janet Pardoe, and Mabel Warren, having l o s t her ' g i r l f r i e n d 1 , d e c ides t o adopt C o r a l as her new housemate. Stamboul T r a i n i s a s l i c k l y w r i t t e n and b r i s k l y c y n i c a l book; Greene h i m s e l f admits t o h i s d i s l i k e of the n o v e l . How-ever, w h i l e i t served the purpose of r e s u s c i t a t i n g t o some extent Greene's f l a g g i n g income, and h i s c a r e e r , which he was on the p o i n t of abandoning, i t a l s o made Greene come to g r i p s w i t h the t e c h n i c a l and s t y l i s t i c problems t h a t plague the f i r s t t h r e e n o v e l s . 26 Stamboul T r a i n i s t a u t l y s t r u c t u r e d — the f i v e chapters each r e p r e s e n t the f i v e major s t a t i o n s on the journey -- the c h a r a c t e r s are d e f t l y and on the whole c o n v i n c i n g l y drawn, and Greene's s t y l e has been toned down from h i s e a r l i e r s e n t i -mental and o f t e n o v e r l y l u s h prose t o a sharp, hard and c i n e -matic use of language. The movements of the t r a i n , the s t a t i o n s the passengers stop a t , the a c t i o n s of the c h a r a c t e r s themselves, are a l l d e s c r i b e d as i f seen through a camera. Greene was i n f a c t v e r y much i n f l u e n c e d by the f i l m (he was f i l m c r i t i c on The S p e c t a t o r f o r a number of years) and i t i s not s u r p r i s i n g t h a t so many of h i s nove l s have been made i n t o f i l m s . They are e a s i l y adaptable t o the medium of f i l m because he h i m s e l f has adopted so many s t y l i s t i c techniques from the c i n e m a t i c a r t . As one c r i t i c w r i t e s : . . . l i k e a l l the entertainments, Stamboul  T r a i n i s ci n e m a t i c . . . i t i s im p o s s i b l e not t o see the a c t i o n i n terms of t r a c k i n g -shot, panning, cl o s e - u p and fade-out . . . C o n s c i e n t i o u s l y a v i s i b l e world i s c r e a t e d . The power t o c r e a t e c o m p e l l i n g l y v i s u a l images of c h a r a c t e r s and environment i s one of Greene's g r e a t s t r e n g t h s as a n o v e l i s t , and, as Pryce-Jones says, " I t i s i n Stamboul T r a i n t h a t Greene's 27 t a l e n t xs f i r s t r e v e a l e d . " * * * In I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d , f a t a l i s m emerges as a major aspect of Greene's f i c t i o n . As the 1930's progressed, Greene became i n c r e a s i n g l y concerned w i t h h i s v i s i o n of s o c i e t y as a whole, i t s s e e d i n e s s , i t s mechanized, i n d u s t r i a l i z e d maze t h a t prevents 27 escape, i t s power of a l i e n a t i o n which leaves people d r i f t i n g a i m l e s s l y , surrounded by t h e i r own l o n e l i n e s s . Greene's s o c i a l c o n s c i e n c e , d e v e l o p i n g i n tune w i t h the s o c i a l l y con-s c i o u s t h i r t i e s i n England, enabled him to b r i n g h i s p r i v a t e o bsessions to a much broader spectrum, s i n c e he saw t h a t h i s own obsessions — l o n e l i n e s s , t e r r o r of l i f e , the f r i g h t e n i n g i n a b i l i t y o f a man to break through the p a t t e r n e d f a t a l i s m of h i s world — c o u l d be a p p l i e d t o s o c i e t y i n g e n e r a l . T h i s i s one of the reasons why I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d i s more powerful than The Man W i t h i n : Greene i s concerned w i t h the a c t u a l contemporary world and the people who l i v e w i t h i n i t r a t h e r than with a s u b j e c t i v e f i g u r e i n an u n r e a l landscape. As Greene's landscape develops from book t o book, the sense of f a t a l i s m becomes ever s t r o n g e r . His c h a r a c t e r s , as one can see i n I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d , are dominated by t h e i r environment and, aware of t h i s , they make p i t i a b l y f u t i l e attempts t o a t t a i n some k i n d of i n d i v i d u a l i t y . To take one s m a l l example, t h e r e i s Kay Rimmer, who f i g h t s the deadening r o u t i n e of f a c t o r y labour by s l e e p i n g w i t h as many d i f f e r e n t men as she can, but even t h i s cannot f r e e her from the machines: "With oranged l i p s and waved h a i r she fought t h e i r u n i f o r m i t y and grey s t e e l , but she was as one with them as a f r i v o l o u s dash of b r i g h t p a i n t 2 8 on a s h a f t i n g . " John A t k i n s has t h i s t o say about Greene's c h a r a c t e r s : They are merely products of t h e i r e n v i r -onment, something important i s l e f t out. 28 The r e s u l t i s , t o quote Mr. Symons again, 'a world without f a i t h , where men may e x i s t simply as the hunter, strengthened by hardness and emptiness, and the hunted, t r a g i c a l l y weakened by a d i s t u r b i n g sense of g u i l t . . . the whole compound of v i o l e n c e , t e r r o r and a b e w i l d e r i n g search f o r some form of f a i t h ' . When Greene attempts to f i l l t h ^ emptiness he has recourse to dogma. Symons and A t k i n s r e c o g n i z e very c l e a r l y the hopelessness of Greene's world, but what they tend to d i s m i s s i s the con-s t a n t e f f o r t Greene's c h a r a c t e r s make t o overcome t h i s d i s -t u r b i n g hopelessness. T h i s i s the b a s i c and most profound t e n s i o n i n h i s work as a whole, and i t i s p r e s e n t i n h i s n o v e l s long b e f o r e the r e l i g i o u s 'dogma' e n t e r s . In other words, t h i s s t r u g g l e i s much more b a s i c than A t k i n s seems t o see i t : i t i s not emptiness versus dogma, but the s t r u g g l e of the i n d i v i d u a l a g a i n s t the f a t a l i s m of both h i s i n n e r and o u t e r environment. In I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d t h i s s t r u g g l e begins to become apparent. L i k e the express i n Stamboul T r a i n , I t ' s  a B a t t l e f i e l d has i t s own image of i s o l a t i o n and c l a u s t r o p h o b i a — the c i r c l e s o f h e l l . The c i t y o f London around which the novel i s c e n t r e d i s a c i t y of c i r c l e s , without any escape r o u t e s . The A s s i s t a n t Commissioner, n o t i c i n g t h i s s u b c o n s c i o u s l y , " . . . had a dim memory t h a t someone had once mapped h e l l i n c i r c l e s . . . " and the Dantean image i s r e i n f o r c e d throughout. Chapter One ends: "At each s t a t i o n on the Outer C i r c l e a 30 t r a i n stopped every two minutes." Greene's f i c t i o n a l landscape i s o f t e n composed of t h i s f a s c i n a t i n g mixture of r e a l i s m and symbolism; he chooses c e r t a i n 29 ' r e a l i s t i c ' , n a t u r a l i s t i c d e t a i l s — "the p o r c e l a i n b a s i n s , 31 the taps and plugs and wastes"; " P h i l l a y a s l e e p on the bed i n pants, h i s mouth a l i t t l e open showing one y e l l o w t o o t h and a gob of metal f i l l i n g . . . . (He) opened an eye — yel l o w 32 w i t h the sexual e f f o r t " — t o r e i n f o r c e h i s v i s i o n of a landscape which i s p r i m a r i l y symbolic. Greene's i s a s e l e c t i v e r e a l i s m ; he s e l e c t s h i s d e t a i l s c a r e f u l l y t o add s t r e n g t h to the image of the modern world he i s t r y i n g t o c r e a t e -- the image of a tawdry wasteland, f u l l of s o r d i d c l o s e - u p s of the seamier s i d e of human e x i s t e n c e . I t i s t h i s c u r i o u s i n t e r -m i n g l i n g o f r e a l and s u r r e a l , f o r example, London as Dantean H e l l -- t h a t g i v e s 'Greeneland' i t s unique f l a v o u r , h e i g h t e n i n g as i t does the i n t e n s i t y and obsessiveness of the author's f i c t i o n a l world y e t doing i t s u b t l y enough t o ma i n t a i n the appearance of r e a l i t y . The theme of the c i r c u l a r h e l l operates on a l l l e v e l s of the book: the i n s t i t u t i o n s , the c i t y i t s e l f , the o p e r a t i o n of j u s t i c e , the c h a r a c t e r s a l l and sundry are c o l l e c t i v e l y s t r u c t u r e d and t w i s t e d by t h i s c i r c u l a r i t y which a l l o w s no break i n the p a t t e r n . Out of the host of c h a r a c t e r s who are a l l obsessed w i t h f e a r and l o n e l i n e s s , without a purpose t o t h e i r l i v e s , emerges Conrad Drover, the bro t h e r of a man who i s being t r i e d f o r the murder of a p o l i c e c o n s t a b l e at a p o l i t i c a l meeting. He lo v e s h i s b r o t h e r and h i s b r o t h e r ' s w i f e M i l l y as much as he hates the world, y e t i r o n i c a l l y he ends up s l e e p i n g with M i l l y , and e v e n t u a l l y being k i l l e d by 30 a speeding c a r as, w i t h a gun loaded w i t h b l a n k s , he attempts to shoot the A s s i s t a n t Commissioner, who has the power t o r e p e a l h i s b r o t h e r ' s hanging. Again a c o n c r e t e d e t a i l i s used as a symbol — t h i s time of Conrad's f r u s t r a t e d impotence i n the face of h i s e x i s t e n c e . L i k e the other c h a r a c t e r s of Greene's f a l l e n world, he i s emasculated by h i s environment. L i k e Kay Rimmer, the f a c t o r y g i r l who i s M i l l y ' s s i s t e r , Conrad i s a c l e r k trapped i n the c l a u s t r o p h o b i c u n i f o r m i t y of s o c i e t y , y e t to an even g r e a t e r degree than the other char-a c t e r s , he i s completely c u t o f f from humanity, cut o f f e s s e n t i a l l y by h i s f e a r and h i s i n t e l l i g e n c e . He f e e l s he has been v i c t i m i z e d by " . . . a badge of b r a i n s s i n c e b i r t h . B r a i n s , l i k e a f i e r c e heat, had turned the world to a d e s e r t around him, and a c r o s s the sands i n the o c c a s i o n a l mirage he saw the s t u p i d crowds, p l a y i n g , l a u g h i n g , and without thought e n j o y i n g the tenderness, the compassion, the companionship of l o v e . " 3 3 Greene as a n o v e l i s t i s not i n t e r e s t e d i n the crowd, although he c a s t s w i s t f u l g l a nces a t i t s o b l i v i o u s n e s s from time t o time. H i s concern i s w i t h the man apart and t h i s man's anguished attempts t o e x e r t h i s own i n d i v i d u a l i t y , to e s t a b l i s h a c o n n e c t i o n w i t h a being other than h i m s e l f , i n s p i t e of the f o r c e s t h a t render him h e l p l e s s . As one c r i t i c w r i t e s : Greene r e v e a l s w i t h compassion the world of those who seem unable t o stand o u t s i d e the p l o t . His sympathy goes out to the most m i s e r a b l e of men, so weak t h a t they cannot apply t h e i r w i l l t o f r e e the 'inward man' i n them; those who are caught i n the mud. David i s obsessed by the e v e r - p r e s e n t f e a r of f a i l u r e : "Pale, shabby, t i g h t l y strung he had advanced from post t o post i n h i s insurance o f f i c e w i t h the b e a r i n g of a man 35 w a i t i n g t o be d i s c h a r g e d . " When h i s b r o t h e r i s a r r e s t e d , he i s g i v e n a sense of purpose f o r the f i r s t time; f o r the f i r s t time he i s needed. He goes to M i l l y i n o r d e r to h e l p her, and, both r e a l i z i n g the hopelessness of her husband's p o s i t i o n , they make l o v e almost out of d e s p e r a t i o n , as i f r e a l i z i n g t h a t the i n t i m a c y of sex i s the o n l y way they can share t h e i r f e a r . M i l l y ' s dependence on him f r i g h t e n s Conrad. He i s unused to i t , and i s deeply depressed by h i s u n t h i n k i n g b e t r a y a l of h i s b r o t h e r , and h i s l a c k of any r e a l communication with M i l l y , the o n l y woman he had ever f e l t a n ything f o r . I t was d i f f i c u l t t o know what kept him a l i v e ; he had no ambition, work was o n l y a grim s t r u g g l e to s u r v i v e ; the o n l y man he l o v e d was l o c k e d away from him; the o n l y woman he had ever l o v e d had shown him e x a c t l y what^jLove between a man and woman was worth. His growing d e s p a i r , p a r a n o i a and f e a r d r i v e s him event-u a l l y t o h i s own death. He buys a gun t o get revenge, not o n l y f o r h i s b r o t h e r , but more s i g n i f i c a n t l y f o r h i m s e l f . The world i s h i s enemy, e s p e c i a l l y the people " . . . who do not (that was the worst crime) take me s e r i o u s l y , as a man, as a c h i e f c l e r k , as a l o v e r . " Conrad i s f i g h t i n g f o r h i s own b a s i c human d i g n i t y i n a world t h a t r e f u s e s t o accept him. He i s attempting t o a s s e r t h i m s e l f as an i n d i v i d u a l , an i n d i v i d u a l d r i v e n t o the border of i n s a n i t y by the i n t e n s i t y and c o n t r a d i c t i o n of h i s own emotions, but i s the v i c t i m of a p a i n f u l and ignominious death. Stepping out of the pattern, of h i s p r e v i o u s a l i e n a t e d and b a r r e n e x i s t e n c e was the a c t i o n t h a t brought about Conrad's doom. Conrad i s the o n l y one who t r i e s t o break through the f a t a l i s t i c , p a s s i v e p a t t e r n of h i s l i f e . The o t h e r s — Conder, J u l e s B r i t o n , Kay Rimmer, Surrogate, the A s s i s t a n t Commissioner a l l remain trapped w i t h i n t h e i r own c i r c l e s of h e l l , f i g h t i n g o f f l o n e l i n e s s and d e s p a i r . J u l e s B r i t o n , l i k e the r e s t of the estranged c h a r a c t e r s i n the book, needs d i s t r a c t i o n from h i m s e l f and the abyss w i t h i n and around him i n o r d er to stay sane. "Only a woman, only a n o i s e , o n l y a gramaphone p l a y i n g or people t a l k i n g c o u l d save him then from s i n k i n g back, back i n t o h i m s e l f . . . . Shout, s i n g , be i n a crowd as he was here; t h a t was b e t t e r than s e a r c h i n g the dark f o r something as h o p e l e s s l y gone as the s h e l t e r e d e x i s t e n c e of the womb.""^ The c h a r a c t e r s i n I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d are u n i f o r m l y without f a i t h i n themselves or the u n i v e r s e around them. There i s o n l y one e x c e p t i o n t o the r u l e , C a t h e r i n e Bury, the aging l i t e r a r y l i o n e s s , and as f o r her f a i t h , " . . . perhaps i t 39 was unshakeable because of i t s vagueness." 33 When Cat h e r i n e probes the A s s i s t a n t Commissioner about h i s f a i t h , a l l he can say i s : 'Well', he s a i d , 'one l i v e s and then, t h a t i s , one d i e s ' . I t was the nea r e s t he co u l d come t o conveying h i s sense of a g r e a t waste, a u s e l e s s expenditure of l i v e s . . . . I t was im p o s s i b l e t o b e l i e v e i n a g r e a t d i r e c t i n g purpose, f o r these were no^ spare p a r t s which c o u l d be matched ag a i n . A l l the c h a r a c t e r s w i t h i n the b a t t l e f i e l d are v i c t i m s of an i n j u s t i c e t h a t goes f a r beyond merely s o c i a l i n e q u a l i t y . I t i s an a l l - p e r v a s i v e element, as much a p a r t of t h e i r l i v e s as the a i r they breathe. The mechanical f a t a l i s m of these c h a r a c t e r s ' l i v e s i s made even more numbing by t h i s sense of cosmic i n j u s t i c e t h a t hangs i n the a i r around them. The book ends wi t h t h i s exchange between the c h a p l a i n and the A s s i s t a n t Commissioner, the one, God's law - e n f o r c e r , the other the instrument of the r u l i n g c l a s s e s . The c h a p l a i n s a i d : 'I can't stand human j u s t i c e any lo n g e r . I t s a r b i t r a r i n e s s . I t s i n c o m p r e h e n s i b i l i t y . 'I don't mean, of course, t o be, t o be blasphemous, but i s n ' t t h a t v e r y l i k e , t h a t i s t o say, i s n ' t d i v i n e j u s t i c e much the same?' 'Perhaps. But one can't hand i n a r e s i g n a -t i o n t o God.' Some of Greene's l a t e r f i g u r e s , however, such as Scobie, seem t o do e x a c t l y t h a t . * * * 34 One of the b a s i c needs of Greene's c h a r a c t e r s i s s e c u r i t y ; and i f the ' s h e l t e r e d e x i s t e n c e of the womb' i s gone f o r e v e r , one can at l e a s t c e n t r e one's l i f e around a p r i v a t e and p r e c i o u s v i s i o n of 'home'. Greene's next n o v e l , England Made Me.(1935) focuses on each c h a r a c t e r ' s i d e a of home, even though i n t h e i r p r e s e n t s t a t e each i s p a t h e t i c a l l y homeless. A l l of Greene's p r o t a g o n i s t s seem t o have a mental image of home, an image u s u a l l y i n e x t r i c a b l y l i n k e d w i t h c h i l d h o o d , and a l l t r y t o d u p l i c a t e the s e c u r i t y o f t h i s v i s i o n i n t h e i r a d u l t l i v e s by c o n s t r u c t i n g an aura of p r o t e c t i o n and s e c u r i t y around one s p e c i f i c l o c a l e , o r even one s p e c i f i c room: one only has to t h i n k of Scobie's o f f i c e , P i n k i e ' s crumb-scattered bedroom, Raven's d i l a p i d a t e d boarding-house room with the k i t t e n ' s saucer of m i l k on the w i n d o w s i l l . The i n h a b i t a n t s of Greene-l a n d are t h r u s t out of the womb be f o r e t h e i r time, and spend the r e s t of t h e i r l i v e s t r y i n g to crawl back i n t o a calm and pe a c e - g i v i n g refuge from the storm of l i f e . Anthony F a r r a n t ' s v i s i o n of home i s of cheap l o w e r - c l a s s London. He i s a c o n - a r t i s t , and makes h i s l i v i n g around the globe by c h e a t i n g , impersonation, and s l i c k salesmanship; now h i s s i s t e r has caught up wi t h him, and t r i e s t o persuade him to come t o Sweden t o work f o r Krogh, the f a b u l o u s l y wealthy i n d u s t r i a l i s t , whose m i s t r e s s Kate i s . Anthony, t e m p o r a r i l y weary of m a i n t a i n i n g h i s f a l s e fromt on f o r e i g n s o i l , r e p l i e s : 'If o n l y you cou l d s t a y w i t h me here.' 'Here' was the twin d i a l s on the gas meter, the d i r t y pane, the lo n g - l e a v e d p l a n t , the paper fan i n the empty f i r e p l a c e ; 'here' was the scented p i l l o w , the f a m i l i a r photographs, thg pawned bags, the empty pockets, home. Kate's 'world' and the world t h a t Anthony i s soon t o e n t e r , i s the exact o p p o s i t e t o the seedy, c l u t t e r e d , huddled warmth of the world of London t h a t Anthony accepts as the e n v i r o n -ment t h a t formed him. Sweden, and more s p e c i f i c a l l y Krogh's f a c t o r y and l i v i n g q u a r t e r s , i s a l l " . . . g l a s s y c l e a n l i n e s s , the l a t e s t f a s h i o n a b l e s c u l p t u r e , the soundproof f l o o r s and dictaphones and pewter a s h t r a y s and E r i k i n h i s s i l e n t room l i s t e n i n g t o the r e p o r t s from Warsaw, Amsterdam, P a r i s and B e r l i n . " 4 3 Not s u r p r i s i n g l y , even E r i k Krogh h i m s e l f does not f e e l at home i n such bleak a n t i s e p t i c surroundings. He longs f o r the o l d days i n Chicago, b e f o r e h i s sudden accumulation of wealth, when he was young and had a few acquaintances t h a t were almost f r i e n d s . Now he has no sense of i d e n t i t y , and has to look at h i s i n i t i a l s f l a s h i n g i n neon l i g h t s above each doorway i n h i s f a c t o r y t o remember who he i s : " . . . he was l i k e a man without a p a s s p o r t , without a n a t i o n a l i t y ; l i k e a 44 man who c o u l d only speak Esperanto." Minty, whom one c r i t i c l a b e l l e d the f i r s t of Greene's f u l l - l e n g t h grotesques, i s r e a l l y the on l y one who has managed to make h i m s e l f a home away from home i n the bleak Swedish environment; but h i s 'home' i s no more than a burrow, a f i l t h y room i n an a n c i e n t lodging-house. 36 . . . he h u r r i e d upward, f o u r t e e n more s t a i r s , t o the f o u r t h l a n d i n g , t o s e c u r i t y , t o home — the brown woollen d r e s s i n g -gown hanging on the door, the cocoa and water b i s c u i t s i n the cupboard, the l i t t l e Madonna on the mantelpiece, the s p i d e r under the t o o t h g l a s s . T h i s s p i d e r under the t o o t h g l a s s i s mentioned s e v e r a l times, and becomes a c e n t r a l image w i t h i n the book. L i k e the s p i d e r the c h a r a c t e r s are trapped by t h e i r environment, unable to escape, to a c t , to communicate. They are imprisoned not only by the s o c i a l maze they are f o r c e d i n t o but a l s o by the s p i r -i t u a l , mental and, t o go beyond the p e r s o n a l , the u n i v e r s a l cage t h a t holds Greene's c h a r a c t e r s i n p a s s i v e s u b j e c t i o n . Thus the image of the s p i d e r under g l a s s comes to be a symbol of f a t a l i s m , l i k e the p r e v i o u s c e n t r a l images of f a t a l i s m — the express t r a i n , and the c i r c l e s of H e l l superimposed over the p h y s i c a l d e t a i l s of London. As Minty goes t o s l e e p , he r e a l i z e s t h a t God holds him under a g l a s s j u s t as he, Minty, holds and imprisons the s p i d e r . . . . he turned out h i s own lamp and l a y i n darkness, l i k e the s p i d e r p a t i e n t behind h i s g l a s s . And l i k e the s p i d e r he withered, blown out no l o n g e r t o meet contempt; h i s body s t r e t c h e d doggo i n the a t t i t u d e of death, he l a y ther^g humbly tempting God to l i f t the g l a s s . L i k e Krogh and Anthony he mutely appeals f o r freedom, knowing t h a t freedom would probably mean death. The f o x h o l e i s s a f e , w h i le the open p l a i n he d e s i r e s so much i s f r a u g h t w i t h p i t f a l l s . W i t h i n the undeveloped c h a r a c t e r of Minty, Greene h i n t s a t a 37 s u b j e c t which long occupies h i s mind: what would happen i f God ' l i f t e d the g l a s s ' and o f f e r e d p e r f e c t freedom? Would i t be a new and s p a r k l i n g l i f e — or a n n i h i l a t i o n ? In a l l of these e a r l y novels which f o l l o w The Man Wi t h i n Greene d e s c r i b e s a world which i s composed o n l y of the dead and the d y i n g : the focus on the d e s o l a t i o n of the modern world grows sharper and more i n c l u s i v e with each n o v e l . As i n Baude-l a i r e ' s poem "Au L e c t e u r " — " F o l l y , e r r o r , s i n and a v a r i c e / Occupy our minds and waste our b o d i e s , / And we feed our p o l i t e 47 remorse/ As beggars feed t h e i r l i c e " -- Greene's c h a r a c t e r s s i n k i n t o an ever-widening abyss of d e s p a i r and ennui. To quote from A l l o t t and F a r r i s : I t has been suggested t h a t 'the t e r r o r of l i f e ' i n t h i s phase of Greene's work i s no longer p r o j e c t e d mainly through the s e l f -t o r t u r e of a s i n g l e c h a r a c t e r . . . but i s spread t o c r e a t e a g e n e r a l p i c t u r e of a f a l l e n world . . . Seediness goes beyond the c r u e l t i e s of m a t e r i a l poverty, even beyond the ' s p i r i t u a l bankruptcy' of modern l i f e , u n t i l i t stands f o r a permanent t r u t h abuot the human s i t u a t i o n . . . Greene's world i s a l r e a d y t h a t of Newman's 'ab o r i g -i n a l c a l a m i t y ' . ^ A l l the c h a r a c t e r s i n England Made Me are l i n k e d t ogether w i t h i n the same s p i r a l , and d r i v e n by the same f e a r s , the same f r u s t r a t i o n s and the same inadequacies. Krogh the b i l l i o n a i r e , who i s i n the process of making some very shady f i n a n c i a l d e a l s , i s awkward and h e l p l e s s when c o n f r o n t e d with other people, and needs Kate f o r p a i d company and Fred H a l l f o r h i s p e r s o n a l p r o t e c t o r and bodyguard j u s t as much as they need the s e c u r i t y 38 of h i s wealth. Minty the newspaperman needs Krogh, s i n c e Krogh i s h i s s p e c i a l s u b j e c t , j u s t as Krogh needs the p u b l i c i t y t h a t Minty g i v e s him. They are a l l , w i l l i n g l y or not, attached to each o t h e r , and out of t h i s attachment grows a k i n d of p e r v e r t e d l o y a l t y , the dependent l o y a l t y of one crew member f o r another. Only Anthony does not belong on the merry-go-round, and i s c a s t o f f without compunction a t the end of the book. Why i s he thrown o f f ? Is he not a man of the world, w e l l -t r a v e l l e d and experienced i n the crooked ways of s u r v i v i n g and p r o f i t i n g amidst treacherous waters? Much as he would l i k e t o g i v e t h i s impression, Anthony i s , however, e s s e n t i a l l y an inno-cent i n a c o r r u p t e d a d u l t world. England Made Me c e n t r e s around Anthony's t a r n i s h e d but e s s e n t i a l innocence, which i s so much i n c o n t r a s t to the world of experience he i s c o n s t a n t l y f o r c e d to f a c e : through the metaphor of Anthony's death Greene i s d e a l i n g w i t h one of h i s major themes — the n e v e r - c e a s i n g death of innocence, innocence k i l l e d or c o r r u p t e d , unable to s u r v i v e i n a world t h a t demands experience, compromise, and a t i t s very h e a r t , s e l f i s h n e s s . Anthony's p e r c e p t i v e s i s t e r Kate sees h i s innocence immediately, and comprehends the impassable g u l f between them: His f a c e , she thought, i s a s t o n i s h i n g l y young f o r t h i r t y - t h r e e ; i t i s a l i t t l e worn, but o n l y as i f by a w i n t r y day, i t i s no more mature than when he was a schoolboy. He might be a schoolboy now, r e t u r n e d from a r a t h e r c o l d and wearing f o o t b a l l match. His appearance i r r i t a t e d her, f o r a man should grow up, but before she c o u l d speak and t e l l him what she thought, her tenderness woke 39 again f o r h i s absurd innocence. For he was h o p e l e s s l y l o s t i n the world of business t h a t she knew so w e l l , the world where she was at home: he had a c h i l d ' s cunning i n a world of cunning men; he was d i s h o n e s t , but he was not d i s h o n e s t enough. She was aware, having shared h i s thoughts f o r more than t h i r t y y e a r s , f e l t h i s f e a r s beat i n her own body, of h i s i n c a l c u l a b l e r e s e r v e s . There were t h i n g s he would not do. That, whe t o l d h e r s e l f , was the amazing d i f f e r e n c e between them. And t h a t , Anthony's deeply b u r i e d but n e v e r t h e l e s s present sense of r i g h t and wrong, i s h i s d o w n f a l l . He r e f u s e s to do Krogh's d i r t y work, t o d r i v e out and s i l e n c e a workman come to beg Krogh t o end the maltreatment and p e r s e c u t i o n of h i s s o c i a l i s t f a t h e r ; and i t i s t h i s r e f u s a l t o compromise h i s b a s i c a l l y humane a t t i t u d e towards other people, i n order t o make h i s own p o s i t i o n more secure, t h a t leads f i r s t t o h i s d e c i s i o n t o go home t o England and then, because of the s e c r e t i n f o r m a t i o n he possesses about Krogh's shady f i n a n c i a l d e a l s , to h i s murder by Krogh's henchman H a l l . As Kate i r o n i c a l l y says t o him l a t e i n the n o v e l : "'Tony, you're too innocent 4. T • i i.50 t o l i v e 1." The o n l y commandment i n the modern world, of which Anthony i s u n w i l l i n g l y a p a r t , i s 'Look out f o r T h y s e l f . Because of t h i s dictum, whatever love t h e r e i s between c h a r a c t e r s i n the book i s warped and t w i s t e d , u n f u l f i l l e d and e g o t i s t i c a l . The o n l y hope w i t h i n t h i s b r u t a l and l o n e l y world i s c o n t a i n e d i n one t i n y p a r t of Anthony's nature which shows through h i s i n -s i n c e r i t y and c o n t i n u a l p o s i n g : h i s compassion. With t h i s t i n y spark e x t i n g u i s h e d , one would have a p i c t u r e of Dante's 40 congealed h e l l , where people l i e trapped back t o back i n the fr o z e n s l i m e , bonded together y e t e t e r n a l l y alone. The t w i s t e d , c r i p p l e d r e l a t i o n s h i p between H a l l and Krogh stands f o r a l l the r e l a t i o n s h i p s i n Greene's world: They had nothin g t o say t o each other; what l a y between them, h e l d them a p a r t , l e f t them l o n e l y as they drove away toge t h e r , was nothin g so simple as a death, i t was as complicated as the lov e between a man and a woman.^ Anthony i s an outmoded, a r c h a i c f i g u r e i n t h i s dog-eat-dog world, and y e t h i s i n t r i n s i c humanity, however tenuous i t i s , i s what Greene i s s e a r c h i n g f o r , t r y i n g to d i s c o v e r i n the v i o l e n t and seedy world around him. In England Made Me Greene i s t r y i n g t o f i n d an answer t o what t o him i s the main d i c h o -tomy of our time. As Greene sees i t , at l e a s t i n t h i s e a r l y n o v e l , the modern world i n s p i r e s and perpetuates the f a t a l i s m and f e a r t h a t a l i e n a t e s the i n d i v i d u a l , w h i l e the value s of love and honesty t h a t motivate the p r o t a g o n i s t towards commitment t o h i s f e l l o w beings and h i s surrounding world come from another l e s s a n a r c h i c age. In Greene's v i s i o n these v a l u e s have been d r i v e n underground, are being r u t h l e s s l y exterminated, and a new, a n a r c h i c age of v i o l e n c e and s p i r i t u a l emptiness — the age o f Yeats' "The Second Coming" -- has dawned. In an essay c a l l e d 'At Home', w r i t t e n d u r i n g the e a r l y years of World War Two, Greene t r i e s t o e x p l a i n t h i s phenomenon: There are t h i n g s one never gets used t o because they don't connect: s a n c t i t y and f i d e l i t y and the courage o f human beings abandoned t o f r e e w i l l : v i r t u e s l i k e these belong w i t h o l d c o l l e g e b u i l d i n g s and 41 c a t h e d r a l s , r e l i c s of a world w i t h f a i t h . V i o l e n c e comes to us more e a s i l y because i t was so long expected — not o n l y by the p o l i t i c a l sense but by the moral sense. The world we l i v e d i n c o u l d not have ended any other way. The c u r i o u s waste lands one sometimes saw from t r a i n s — the c r a t e r -ed ground round Wolverhampton under a c i n d e r y sky w i t h a few c o t t a g e s grouped l i k e stones among the r u b b i s h : those acres of abandoned c a r s round Slough: the dingy f o r t u n e - t e l l e r s on the f i r s t - f l o o r above the cheap permanent waves i n a B r i g h t o n back s t r e e t ; they a l l demanded v i o l e n c e , l i k e the rooms i n a dream where one knows t h a t something w i l l happen — a door f l y open or a window-catch g i v e and l e t the end in.52 Greene understands the a n a r c h i c a t t r a c t i o n of the s e e d i -ness of our modern c u l t u r e , and sees t h a t our environment i n s p i r e s and complements the l a c k of d i r e c t i o n i n s i d e our-s e l v e s . In England Made Me he c o n f r o n t s the modern world w i t h Anthony's innocence and n a i v e b e l i e f i n human nature, and Anthony i s swallowed up: i n l a t e r books p r o t a g o n i s t s again c o n f r o n t the f a t a l i s t i c a l l - d e v o u r i n g world around them, with v a r y i n g degrees of f a i l u r e . But, of course, f a i l u r e i s a v i r t u r e t o Greene, s i n c e i t s i g n i f i e s a withdrawal from the l a b y r i n t h of acceptance, of success, and b r i n g s a g r e a t e r self-awareness and h u m i l i t y : i t a l s o s e r v e s , as we w i l l see, as a k i n d of p r e p a r a t i o n f o r f a i t h . P h i l i p S t r a t f o r d w r i t e s : Yet 'the p a s s i o n , the u n c e r t a i n t y , the p a i n ' , and the sense of f a i l u r e and b e t r a y a l experienced i n v a r y i n g degrees i n . . . Stamboul T r a i n , I t ' s a B a t t l e -f i e l d and England Made Me, are not o n l y a v e s t i g i a l s i g n of C h r i s t i a n conscience but, i n o p p o s i t i o n t o the apathy and h o s t i l i t y of the i r r e l i g i o u s world, a p o s i t i v e f o o t i n g f o r a r e l i g i o u s a t t i t u d e . Graham Greene develops through h i s f i r s t f o u r novels h i s p a r t i c u l a r v i s i o n of the modern wasteland. In each n o v e l the environment, and the emptiness of h i s c h a r a c t e r s w i t h i n i t become more c l e a r l y d e f i n e d u n t i l i n England Made Me one reaches a n a d i r : Greene shows h i s reader w i t h u n e r r i n g c l a r i t y the hollowness of h i s p r o t a g o n i s t s and the cheapness and v a c u i t y of our c i v i l i z a t i o n . In the words of one c r i t i c : Greene has reached i n impasse. Man must grow up, but o n l y towards death. Every-t h i n g i s a l i t t l e death, an ebbing of innocence. Once innocence has evaporated, no a c t i o n assumes an importance over another. I t i s j u s t a b a l d o b s e r v a t i o n t h a t some men do w e l l and o t h e r s f a i l . Doing w e l l i s j u s t another form of death: Krogh i s of the same m a t e r i a l as Anthony and Kate. I t i s a c l o s e d world of n i h i l i s m . T h i s d e f i n i t i o n of h i s f i c t i o n a l world i s an i n t e g r a l p a r t of Greene's a r t i s t i c p r o g r e s s i o n , but once man's s u r f a c e c o n d i t i o n i s d e f i n e d , the author must begin t o look more deeply, to f o l l o w t h a t one l i t t l e spark of hope: he must go beyond the seeming deadness of the age, j u s t as E l i o t went beyond "The Hollow Men" t o the f i n a l v i s i o n of the "Four Q u a r t e t s " . For h i s e p i g r a p h to h i s novel The End of the A f f a i r Greene quotes Leon B l o y : "Man has p l a c e s i n h i s heart which do not y e t e x i s t , and i n t o them e n t e r s s u f f e r i n g i n order t h a t they may have e x i s t e n c e . " Greene now has to e x p l o r e these p l a c e s , and to watch them grow t h e r e blankness r u l e d b e f o r e , so t h a t the n i h i l i s m he sees surrounding him can be counterbalanced, be i t ever so s l i g h t l y . 43 CHAPTER TWO STUDIES IN SOCIAL DETERMINISM: A GUN FOR SALE AND BRIGHTON ROCK Modern f i c t i o n has c o n s t a n t l y d e a l t , d u r i n g the l a s t c entury, w i t h c h a r a c t e r s s t r u g g l i n g toward some a c t of consciousness o r s e l f -awareness t h a t would be a gateway t o r e a l l i f e . But the gre a t m a j o r i t y of treatments of t h i s theme are i r o n i c : the a c t i s not made, or i s made too l a t e , o r i s a p a r a l y z i n g awareness wi t h no r e s u l t except self-contempt or i s p e r v e r t e d i n t o i l l u s i o n . Northrop F r y e , from The Modern Century 4 4 With A Gun f o r S a l e and B r i g h t o n Rock, Greene begins a more p e n e t r a t i n g study of the o u t s i d e r as a v i c t i m of h i s s o c i a l c o n d i t i o n i n g i n c h i l d h o o d ; Raven and e s p e c i a l l y P i n k i e are u l t i m a t e l y unable to f i n d f u l f i l l m e n t because they cannot r e a l l y imagine any form of l i f e t h a t i s not determined by a sense of t e r r o r and l o s s . A sense of f a t a l i s m pervades both the c h a r a c t e r s and the world they l i v e i n . The p o s s i b i l i t y of f u l f i l l m e n t through l o v e i s r a i s e d , y e t even l o v e i s not a s t r o n g enough f o r c e t o d i s l o d g e P i n k i e from h i s d i r e c t path towards s e l f - e x t i n c t i o n . There i s s t i l l no r e a l hope f o r the p r o t a g o n i s t because he remains a l i e n a t e d from l i f e . In both of these n o v e l s the p r o t a g o n i s t i s a c r i m i n a l ; he stands o u t s i d e the s o c i a l realm, both p h y s i c a l l y and m o r a l l y , and becomes a p e r f e c t image of a l i e n a t i o n and r e b e l l i o n — a man cut o f f from h i s own r o o t s . From the b i b l i c a l f i g u r e of Cain to the modern day, the c r i m i n a l has always been p i c t u r e d as an o u t s i d e r , an o u t c a s t from the cosy in n e r wheels of the s o c i a l mechanism. Greene, i n h i s development as a w r i t e r , i s s e a r c h i n g f o r a meaningful symbol of i s o l a t i o n , and i n A Gun  f o r S ale and B r i g h t o n Rock, both of h i s main c h a r a c t e r s are murderers and s o l i t a r i e s , t w i s t e d by h e a r t l e s s u p b r i n g i n g s 45 and f u l l of b i t t e r h a t r e d towards the world i n t o which they were dragged a g a i n s t t h e i r w i l l . In f a c t one can see Raven, the p r o t a g o n i s t of A Gun f o r S a l e , as a k i n d of working model f o r one of Greene's most s t r i k i n g c h a r a c t e r s , P i n k i e Brown of B r i g h t o n Rock. In these two books Greene e x p l o r e s the mind and f a t e of the o u t c a s t , j u s t as Dostoevsky. e x p l o r e d the t u r b u l e n t mach-i n a t i o n s of Raskolnikov's mind i n Crime and Punishment. In a l l t h r e e books one of the author's main concerns i s t o dramatize the growth of conscience t h a t takes p l a c e w i t h i n the main c h a r a c t e r ; t o Greene at l e a s t the growth of c onscience s i g n i f i e s a p o s s i b l e r e t u r n to l i f e f o r the a l i e n a t e d man, o r , as one c r i t i c c a l l s him, the ' d i s p l a c e d person'. Walter A l l e n w r i t e s : The f i g u r e of the d i s p l a c e d person can, of course, be taken as a symbol of man's e s s e n t i a l s i t u a t i o n on t h i s e a r t h . In our time, the l e a d i n g E n g l i s h n o v e l i s t of the d i s p l a c e d person i n the fundamental sense i s Graham Greene . . . though he sees h i s c h a r a c t e r s i n what he b e l i e v e s to be the fundamental human s i t u a t i o n , they are always gi v e n a s t r i c t l y con-temporary s e t t i n g . 1 Greene does not n e c e s s a r i l y see a l i e n a t i o n as the funda-mental human s i t u a t i o n , but he does f e e l t h a t most people are trapped w i t h i n t h i s s t a t e of mind, p a r a l y z e d and unable t o reach out i n order t o communicate hidden g r i e f s and d e s i r e s . Chapter One attempted to show the s u r f a c e vacuum of Greene's world, where each person i s i n i s o l a t i o n . Greene's p o r t r a y a l 46 of our modern c i v i l i z a t i o n i s o f t e n a damning one, but he never ceases to e x p l o r e the p o s s i b i l i t y of s a l v a t i o n f o r modern man, s a l v a t i o n a t f i r s t on a p u r e l y s e c u l a r l e v e l , then i n c r e a s i n g l y on a r e l i g i o u s one. In A Gun f o r Sale and B r i g h t o n Rock we have a glimpse of the two k i n d s of s a l v a t i o n b e f o r e both c h a r a c t e r s are sucked back i n t o the vacuum of death and o b l i t e r a t i o n . The shadow of r e l i g i o n t h a t hovers over B r i g h t o n Rock, s p e c i f i c a l l y the gloomy C a t h o l i c i s m of Rose and P i n k i e , adds a whole new dimension t o Greene's u n i v e r s e , and, as we s h a l l see, g i v e s a new meaning t o the problem of a l i e n a t i o n . Raven i s i s o l a t e d from s o c i e t y and from h i m s e l f , but P i n k i e i s i s o l a t e d from God. U l t i m a t e l y f o r Graham Greene, a l i e n a t i o n becomes a r e l i g i o u s concept. Northrop Frye w r i t e s : A l i e n a t i o n and progress are two c e n t r a l elements i n the mythology of our day, and both words have been e x t e n s i v e l y used and misused. The concept of a l i e n a t i o n was o r i g i n a l l y a r e l i g i o u s one, and p e r -haps t h a t i s s t i l l the context i n which i t makes most sense. In r e l i g i o n , the person aware of s i n f e e l s a l i e n a t e d , not n e c e s s a r i l y from s o c i e t y , but from the presence of God, and i t i s i n t h i s f e e l i n g ^ of a l i e n a t i o n t h a t the r e l i g i o u s l i f e b e gins. T h i s d i f f e r e n t degree of a l i e n a t i o n i s e s s e n t i a l l y the d i f f e r e n c e between Raven and P i n k i e , and one c e n t r a l d i f f e r e n c e between the entertainment, A Gun f o r S a l e , and the n o v e l , B r i g h t o n Rock. Yet both Raven and P i n k i e have s i m i l a r n a t u r e s , f u l l of h a t r e d and b i t t e r n e s s , and both are men w i t h a m i s s i o n , seeking i f o n l y s u b c o n s c i o u s l y f o r a connection on a plane above the phoniness and i n s e c u r i t y of o r d i n a r y s o c i e t y . James Raven i s a hired k i l l e r . As the book opens we watch him perform a g r i s l y murder completely without emotion. He i s a cold, e f f i c i e n t automaton, " . . . a man who could be de-3 pended on." He i s the perfect hired k i l l e r , since he takes pride i n his job, such as i t i s , and could not care less who i s his vic t i m as long as he i s paid. Like a l l of Greene's major figures, however, he has a strong sense of j u s t i c e . When he i s paid for his job i n counterfeit money, he completely abandons his own safety i n order to wreak vengeance on his double-crossing employers. The underlying theme i n A Gun for Sale i s the gradual thawing of Raven's frozen and ice-hard heart and soul. At the beginning of the book he f e e l s nothing because he has been overwhelmed by pain, misery, and hatred to such an extent that in order to survive he has had to shut o f f every emotion. Raven suffers, but only far below the surface of his icy exterior. As he walked down the street to meet Mr. Cholmondeley, the obese pay-off man with the emerald ring and the penchant for chocolate p a r f a i t s , " . . . he f e l t no pain from the chip of 4 ice i n his breast." Since the age of six when Raven's father was hung and his mother cut her throat with a carving knife i n the kitchen, Raven has been on his own, surviving a bleak and b i t t e r youth i n a government;.home, alienated from the other children by his hare l i p , which brands him as an outsider, and by the quiet brooding i n t e n s i t y which marks a l l of Greene's 48 c e n t r a l f i g u r e s . He worked the races f o r a w h i l e , a f t e r 'graduating' from the orphanage, and i t i s here t h a t the con-n e c t i o n i s made between Raven's and P i n k i e ' s world. I t was Raven's gang t h a t k i l l e d B a t t l i n g K i t e , P i n k i e ' s boss and s u b s t i t u t e f a t h e r , and although Raven and P i n k i e were on opp o s i t e s i d e s , they were from the same world, and both on the wrong s i d e of the law. Raven's sense of j u s t i c e i s onl y s t i r r e d when he i s be-t r a y e d by those he c o n s i d e r s t o be h i s own k i n d ; he expects no j u s t i c e from the law. When he i s double-crossed by a crooked d o c t o r , whom he v i s i t s t o have a hasty job done on h i s t e l l - t a l e l i p , he i s stunned and outraged. He was touched by something he has never f e l t b e f o r e : a sense of i n j u s t i c e stammered on h i s tongue. These people were of h i s own k i n d ; they d i d n ' t belong i n s i d e the l e g a l borders; f o r the second time i n one day he had been bet r a y e d by the l a w l e s s . He had always been alone, but never so alone as t h i s . 5 I t i s u l t i m a t e l y the i n j u s t i c e of i t a l l , and the need f o r some u n d e r l y i n g sense of f a i r p l a y , t h a t d r i v e s a l l four of the major f i g u r e s i n both A Gun f o r Sale and B r i g h t o n Rock. Anne Crowder and Ida A r n o l d are seeking f o r an impersonal, s o c i a l k i n d of j u s t i c e , w h ile P i n k i e and Raven are s e a r c h i n g f o r a much more p e r s o n a l j u s t i c e , a j u s t i c e which w i l l g i v e meaning t o t h e i r b i t t e r e x i s t e n c e . L i k e P i n k i e , Raven too i s " . . . h a r r a s s e d , hunted, l o n e l y . . . he bore with him a g sense of g r e a t i n j u s t i c e and a c u r i o u s p r i d e . " 49 Greene justaposes h i s c h a r a c t e r s i n an i n t e r e s t i n g p a t t e r n i n A Gun f o r S a l e . On one extreme there i s Raven, the c r i m i n a l , the man who i s o u t c a s t from and hunted by the s o c i a l system; i n the middle i s Mather, the b i g , slow S c o t l a n d Yard d e t e c t i v e who t r a c k s Raven down; and on the other s i d e i s o l d S i r Marcus, the head of Midland S t e e l , and the man who h i r e d Raven t o k i l l the Czech war m i n i s t e r t o promote the chances of war, always a p r o f i t a b l e phenomenon f o r a munitions maker. L i k e Raven, S i r Marcus operates beyond the c o n f i n e s of the law, but t h e r e the s i m i l a r i t y between the two ends. S i r Marcus c o n t r o l s ; Raven i s merely a v i c t i m of the h e a r t l e s s s o c i a l mechanism. Mather, however, i s completely o p p o s i t e t o Raven; he i s p a r t of the masses, a s o c i a l cog, whereas Raven i s a l o n e r and an i n d i v i d u a l . Mather wants nothing more than " . . . t o be on the s i d e t h a t o r g a n i z e s . . . He d i d not want to be a l e a d e r . . . he l i k e d t o f e e l t h a t he was one of thousands more or 7 l e s s equal working f o r a c o n c r e t e end." He hunts Raven down out of a sense of duty, much as Ida pursues P i n k i e , although Ida's concept of 'duty' i s f a r more dubious than i s Mather's. Mather and Ida are the r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s of s o c i e t y , and as Greene sees i t , s o c i e t y i n e v i t a b l y ends up c r u s h i n g the i n d i v i -d u a l , b i t t e r and warped though he may be. But between Mather the o r g a n i z a t i o n man and Raven the a n a r c h i s t comes the f i g u r e of Anne Crowder, g i r l f r i e n d of Mather, another pursuer of j u s t i c e who gets t a n g l e d i n the du a l hunt, as Mather pursues Raven who i s i n t u r n pursuing h i s d o u b l e - c r o s s i n g bosses, Cholmondeley and S i r Marcus. 50 The crux of A Gun f o r Sale i s the r e l a t i o n s h i p between Anne and Raven. Greene, l i k e Hemingway i n t h i s r e g a r d , u s u a l l y i n v o l v e s h i s c e n t r a l male c h a r a c t e r s i n r e l a t i o n s h i p s with women, not i n order to r e v e a l the depths of the other sex, but t o expose the workings of the man's psyche on a deeper l e v e l , t o f o r c e the man i n t o a s i t u a t i o n i n which he w i l l have to make a momentous d e c i s i o n between two warring f a c t i o n s of h i s own nature. When Raven s e t s o f f from London to Norwich on the t r a i l of Chomondeley, Anne i s on the same t r a i n , bound f o r another p a r t i n a second-rate p r o v i n c i a l chorus l i n e , h a t i n g t o leave the s e c u r i t y of Mather and the b i g c i t y . She i s alone and scared, y e t t r i e s t o m a i n tain an a i r of experience and cheer-f u l bravado. When Raven takes her as a hostage as they both leave the t r a i n , the i n c o n g r u i t y of Raven's deadly s e r i o u s n e s s and Anne's attempts at l i g h t h e a r t e d r e p a r t e e o n l y serve to p o i n t out her f e a r . Yet Raven i s a t t r a c t e d t o her by her courage. Anne, through her q u i c k - w i t t e d n e s s , escapes, but not b e f o r e l e a r n i n g t h a t Raven's bosses were somehow i m p l i c a t e d i n the a s s a s s i n a t i o n of the war m i n i s t e r t h a t has brought Europe t o the b r i n k of war. In her i d e a l i s t i c a l l y innocent f a s h i o n , she s e t s out t o see i f she can expose t h i s murder and prevent the war, p a r t l y i n order t o h a l t the s e n s e l e s s k i l l i n g s , and p a r t l y to h o l d onto Mather and s e c u r i t y , s i n c e i f war were d e c l a r e d he would have to e n l i s t . So Anne has a m i s s i o n as much as Raven has, although s i n c e she i s p a r t of 51 the s o c i a l system, she n a t u r a l l y wants t o p r o t e c t i t and her p l a c e i n i t . Raven, however, i s completely o u t s i d e i t , and a war between n a t i o n s means nothin g t o him. As he says more g than once, "' . . . t h e r e 1 s always been a war f o r me1." Anne s i d e s with Raven i n order t o prevent war, although she knows she i s a i d i n g a c r i m i n a l and going a g a i n s t the whole s o c i a l code which Mather stands f o r . " I f o n l y Jimmy were here," she t h i n k s . "But Jimmy, she remembered wit h p a i n , was on the other s i d e ; he was among those hunting Raven down. And Raven 9 must be g i v e n the chance t o f i n i s h h i s hunt f i r s t . " Anne i s another of Greene's in n o c e n t s , the kind of person whose v i s i o n goes beyond the s h o r t - s i g h t e d n e s s of normal soc-i e t y because of i t s f r e s h n e s s and c l a r i t y ; but at the end of the n o v e l , w i t h Raven dead, she has tr a d e d her innocence f o r something more t a n g i b l e -- s e c u r i t y . She has a k i n d of n a i v e t e about the workings of the world t h a t makes her more courageous than most, and when Cholmondeley, who t u r n s out t o be one of the backers of her 'play', attempts t o rape her i n a hideous l i t t l e room i n North Norwich, she b l u r t i n g l y accuses him of d o u b l e - c r o s s i n g Raven. When Raven f i n d s her bound and gagged i n the l i t t l e room a few days l a t e r , sure t h a t she was dead, and amazed t h a t Anne, a ' s k i r t ' , had not betrayed him to the p o l i c e on her f i r s t escape, h i s f r o z e n and i n s e n s a t e nature begins t o thaw. "When he c o u l d f e e l her b r e a t h i n g under h i s hand i t was l i k e b eginning l i f e over a g a i n . F o r the f i r s t time t h e r e i s somebody t h a t matters o u t s i d e the fl a m i n g b i t t e r n e s s 52 of Raven's mind; a c a s u a l t y of the mental and p h y s i c a l b a t t l e -f i e l d of modern l i f e , hardened beyond f e e l i n g by b e t r a y a l and s u s p i c i o n , he g r a d u a l l y begins t o b e l i e v e i n Anne. I t i s i n chapter f i v e , the c e n t r a l chapter of the book, t h a t Raven f i n a l l y d e c i d e s to t r u s t Anne completely and to share w i t h her the b i t t e r experiences of h i s p a s t . As they huddle together i n a t i n y shack, surrounded a l l n i g h t by the p o l i c e , Raven experiences a sense of peace t h a t i s completely new to him. " ' I t i s a s o r t of -- good i n here', Raven s a i d , 'out of the way of the whole damned world of them. In the dark1."''"^ He pours out h i s b i t t e r n e s s t o Anne, and she accepts h i s c o n f i d e n c e s — h i s m i s e r a b l e u p b r i n g i n g i n i n s t i t u t i o n s , h i s d r i f t i n g i n t o the world of crime. L i k e P i n k i e he i s shocked by most people's c a s u a l acceptance of sex: "They have a good time and what do they mind i f someone's born ugly? Three minutes i n bed or a g a i n s t a w a l l , and then a l i f e t i m e 12 f o r the one t h a t ' s born." G r a d u a l l y he t r u s t s her w i t h more and more of the s o r d i d d e t a i l s of h i s l i f e ; c o n f e s s i o n to her i s l i k e the sacrament, and,.Greene here and elsewhere a l l i e s i t c l o s e l y w i t h the Cath-o l i c r i t e . "He brooded over h i s memories wi t h a low p a s s i o n a t e urge towards c o n f e s s i o n . There had never i n h i s l i f e been anyone he c o u l d t r u s t t i l l now . . . . He s a i d : ' t h i s i s the 13 best n i g h t I've ever had'." The c u l m i n a t i o n of Raven's con-f e s s i o n comes when he admits t o murdering the o l d war m i n i s t e r ; h i s need f o r c o n f e s s i o n and a b s o l u t i o n d r i v e s him t o t h i s f i n a l p o u r i n g - f o r t h of h i s crime. He f i n a l l y t r u s t s Anne w i t h every-t h i n g and puts h i s s u r v i v a l i n her hands, but she cannot respond the same way. H o r r i f i e d and r e p u l s e d , she l o s e s a l l sympathy f o r Raven. "She saw t h a t he had no sacks t o cover him, but she f e l t no p i t y a t a l l . He was j u s t a w i l d animal who had 14 to be d e a l t with c a r e f u l l y and then destroyed." Raven's f i r s t and l a s t r e a l attempt at communication on a deep l e v e l w i t h another person i s a s p i r i t u a l experience which g i v e s him a sense of communion t h a t goes beyond the person of Anne • Crowder, but i r o n i c a l l y enough, Anne, the c a t a l y s t t h a t en-ables Raven to experience a f e e l i n g of a b s o l u t i o n , cannot accept the h o r r o r of h i s crime and subsequently b e t r a y s him to the p o l i c e . Raven manages t o escape from the p o l i c e blockade, and then k i l l s Cholmondeley and S i r Marcus w i t h i n the l a b y r i n t h of the Midland S t e e l works, but he i s unable t o shoot Mather, swinging on a c a b l e o u t s i d e the window, even though he knows now t h a t Anne i s Mather's g i r l f r i e n d . He d i e s betrayed and hated, i n p a i n , and y e t h i s death i s a l s o a r e l e a s e , and p a i n -f u l because i t i s l i k e b i r t h . Death came t o him i n the form of unbear-able p a i n . I t was as i f he had t o d e l i v e r t h i s p a i n as a woman d e l i v e r s a c h i l d , and he sobbed and moaned i n the e f f o r t . At l a s t i t came out of him and he f o l l o w e d h i s o n l y c h i l d i n t o a v a s t d e s o l a t i o n . The c h a r a c t e r of Raven owes a g r e a t d e a l to the t r a d i t i o n of the haunted, romantic and o f t e n t r a g i c hero i n 19th century and 2 0 t h century f i c t i o n ; g r e a t f i g u r e s l i k e H e a t h c l i f f , Ahab, Raskolnikov and Steppenwolf stand behind the l o n e l y , b i t t e r f i g u r e of James Raven, and although these c h a r a c t e r s dwarf him i n power and magnitude, they belong to the same race of a l i e n a t e d men, s e a r c h i n g f o r some s o r t of communication with something other than t h e i r own l o n e l y minds. I f Greene i s , as I t h i n k he i s , t r y i n g through h i s w r i t -i n g t o e x p l o r e the p o s s i b i l i t y of c r e a t i n g a modern tragedy, A Gun f o r Sale i s perhaps h i s f i r s t r e a l attempt, even though he l a b e l s i t an 'entertainment'. Raven does not have the s t a t u r e and depth to be a t r a g i c f i g u r e i n h i s own r i g h t , but f o r Greene the b a s i s f o r tragedy seems to l i e i n the inhumanity of the s o c i a l s t r u c t u r e around Raven, of which he i s a v i c t i m . However, Raven's growth of c o n s c i e n c e and moral s t a t u r e , h i s growing need f o r t r u s t and c o n f e s s i o n , and h i s sudden b e t r a y a l and o b l i t e r a t i o n does p o i n t to a tragedy of some s o r t , and to complete the p a t t e r n , the f i n a l chapter seems t o a c t as a c a t h a r s i s , i n which a l l the s u b s i d i a r y c h a r a c t e r s s i n k back i n t o t h e i r r o l e s once more, a f t e r the death of the c e n t r a l f i g u r e . " I t was as i f l i f e had sunk again to the normal l e v e l , 16 was f l o w i n g q u i e t l y by once more between i t s banks." One c r i t i c w r i t e s t h a t A Gun f o r Sale " . . . would have been a good novel w i t h the l a s t chapter omitted . . . i t i s flawed by a happy ending t h a t can o n l y s a t i s f y the most w i l -17 f u l l y s e n t i m e n t a l reader." But the ending i s a purge r a t h e r than a s e n t i m e n t a l c o n c l u s i o n . Anne i s haunted by her b e t r a y a l of Raven and i t i s only the s i g h t of London, an image of s a f e t y and warmth, t h a t t e m p o r a r i l y d r i v e s Raven's face out of her mind. In order to have any k i n d of tragedy, at l e a s t i n the A r i s t o t e l i a n sense, the p r o t a g o n i s t must have the s t r e n g t h t o be able to stand out and c a s t an i n d i v i d u a l shadow on the world around him. He must have some sense of purpose, and must f i n a l l y be made aware of the i n e v i t a b l e d i s p a r i t y between dream and r e a l i t y . In A Gun f o r Sale one begins to see the r i s e of the i n d i v i d u a l , a process which culminates i n Greene's l a t e r n o v e l s . In Raven's case, h i s purpose i s j u s t the simple one of revenge, and y e t i n the l a s t stages of the chase, a f t e r he leaves Anne, h i s f e e l i n g of p e r s o n a l b i t t e r n e s s and h a t r e d towards Cholmondeley and S i r Marcus changes i n t o something q u i t e d i f f e r e n t . He has confessed and i n a way been absolved, although not by Anne. "He hugged the automatic to h i s h i p w i t h a sense of achievement and e x h i l a r a t i o n . There was a k i n d of l i g h t h e a r t e d n e s s now about h i s m a l i c e and h a t r e d t h a t he had never known b e f o r e ; he had l o s t h i s sourness and b i t t e r n e s s ; he was l e s s p e r s o n a l i n h i s revenge. I t was 18 almost as i f he were a c t i n g f o r someone e l s e " His m i s s i o n now seems to tr a n s c e n d the s p i r i t o f revenge; i t i s almost as i f Raven has become an agent of j u s t i c e , a c t i n g f o r a h i g h e r power. Raven's strange journey from en c l o s e d b i t t e r -ness t o the f i n a l m e l t i n g of h i s i c y being i s strange even 56 t o him: "he . . . f e l t the i c e melt at h i s heart w i t h a sense of p a i n and strangeness as i f he were pa s s i n g the customs of a l a n d he had never entered b e f o r e and would never be able to 19 l e a v e . " Even though Anne f i n a l l y b e t r a y s him, she a c t s as a l e v e r t o b r i n g him out of h i s c a l c i f i e d h a t r e d . Greene i s a w r i t e r obsessed by man's c o n d i t i o n , as he sees i t , and a l l of h i s novels are concerned wi t h one man t r y i n g t o make sense of h i s own e x i s t e n c e . Many of h i s p r o -t a g o n i s t s cannot make sense of t h e i r e x i s t e n c e i n time, but as they grow i n s t a t u r e and i n d i v i d u a l i t y , t h e i r s t r i v i n g s become more profound and i l l u m i n a t i n g . Walter A l l e n w r i t e s : From the beginning he has been obsessed wit h the p l i g h t of f a l l e n man . . . . As a C h r i s t i a n , he sees h i s c h a r a c t e r s , even i n the l e s s s e r i o u s n o v e l s he c a l l s e ntertainments, under the aspect of e t e r n i t y , so t h a t i n h i s work, as he has s a i d of T r o l l o p e ' s , 'we are aware of another world a g a i n s t which the a c t -ions of the c h a r a c t e r s are thrown i n r e l i e f . 2 0 * * * B r i g h t o n Rock occupies a c e n t r a l p l a c e i n the study of Greene's development as a n o v e l i s t ; i t stands i n a c r u c i a l p o s i t i o n between).his e a r l i e r p u r e l y s e c u l a r t h r i l l e r s and h i s l a t e r and deeper e x p l o r a t i o n s of c h a r a c t e r and m o r a l i t y . I t i s the f i r s t of the s o - c a l l e d ' C a t h o l i c ' n o v e l s , i n which the main c h a r a c t e r , a C a t h o l i c , l i v e s i n s i d e a u n i v e r s e t h a t i s o f t e n more meta p h y s i c a l than a c t u a l , a u n i v e r s e d r i v e n by the C a t h o l i c v i s i o n of l i f e and death and e t e r n i t y , or more p r e c i s e l y 57 by Greene's own p a r t i c u l a r v e r s i o n of the C a t h o l i c v i s i o n . A. A. D e V i t i s c a l l s B r i g h t o n Rock a "medieval a l l e g o r y " i n which "Greene f o r the f i r s t time r e l a t e s the theme of c o r -rupted innocence, the theme of b e t r a y a l , the m o t i f of the chase, and h i s own symbols of e v i l t o a s p e c i f i c a l l y r e l i g i o u s 21 theme: The Roman C a t h o l i c i s m of the c e n t r a l c h a r a c t e r s . " I t i s w i t h B r i g h t o n Rock a l s o t h a t the reader comes face t o face w i t h Greene's e s s e n t i a l l y B a u d e l a i r e a n world view, i n which the u n i v e r s e i s d r i v e n a l t e r n a t e l y by f e a r and boredom, where e v i l i s strong and d e s i r a b l e and good i s p a l l i d i n comparison. S a r t r e , i n h i s p e r c e p t i v e study of B a u d e l a i r e , seems t o i l l u m i n a t e Greene's own experience of l i v i n g when he analyzes the obsessions and i n n e r t u r m o i l s of the French poet's e x i s t e n c e . The f i r s t moment of t e r r o r , as Greene and h i s char-a c t e r s w e l l know, i s the i n s t a n t when the c h i l d r e a l i z e s t h a t he i s a separate i n d i v i d u a l : The c h i l d has undergone a p u r e l y n e g a t i v e experience of s e p a r a t i o n and her e x p e r i -ence assumes the form of u n i v e r s a l sub-j e c t i v i s m . What can we make of a d i s c o v e r y which f r i g h t e n s us and o f f e r s nothing i n r e t u r n ? Most people c o n t r i v e to f o r g e t i t as q u i c k l y as p o s s i b l e . But the c h i l d who has become aware of h i m s e l f as a separate being w i t h a sense of d e s p a i r , rage and j e a l o u s y w i l l base h i s whole l i f e on the f r u i t l e s s contemplation of a s i n g -u l a r i t y which i s f o r m a l . L i k e B a u d e l a i r e , l i k e S a r t r e and the a l i e n a t e d i n d i v i d u a l which i s h i s s u b j e c t , Greene and h i s p r o t a g o n i s t s s u f f e r from t h i s i n t e n s e s e l f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s . S a r t r e w r i t e s : 58 The man who wants t o make h i m s e l f u s e f u l chooses the o p p o s i t e d i r e c t i o n t o B a u d e l a i r e . . . . But i f you have begun by sampling to the p o i n t of nausea t h i s c o nsciousness, which has n e i t h e r rhyme nor reason and which has to i n v e n t the r u l e s which i t proposes to obey, u s e f u l -ness ceases to have any meaning at a l l . L i f e i s nothing more than a game; man has t o choose h i s own end without w a i t i n g f o r o r d e r s , n o t i c e or a d v i c e . Once a man has grasped t h i s t r u t h — t h a t t h e r e i s no other end i n t h i s l i f e except the one t h a t he has d e l i b e r a t e l y chosen -- he no longer f e e l s any g r e a t d e s i r e t o look f o r one. P i n k i e , the c e n t r a l p r o t a g o n i s t of B r i g h t o n Rock, knows t h i s t r u t h . He i s a c h i l d i n an a d u l t world, d e s p e r a t e l y t r y -i n g to' h o l d h i s surrogate f a t h e r ' s kingdom t o g e t h e r . His seedy underground world of B r i g h t o n , the race t r a c k s , a world of v i o l e n c e , r a z o r s , s o r d i d n e s s , i s the o n l y world P i n k i e knows. P i n k i e ' s harsh c h i l d h o o d has i n c u l c a t e d w i t h i n him a d i s t r u s t of everyone, a sense of d i s g u s t towards sex and women, a f i e r c e b i t t e r a s c e t i c i s m and a powerful ambition to c o n t r o l , to r i s e above h i s c o n d i t i o n s of poverty and a b j e c t i o n to a p o s i t i o n l i k e C o l l e o n i ' s , the s u c c e s s f u l r i v a l mobster. He wants t o know how 'to p l a y the game', but f e a r s the process of growing up and e n t e r i n g the long d r e a r y avenues of a d u l t l i f e . H is b a s i c search i s f o r freedom, freedom from other people, from s o c i a l involvement, from the problems of adolescence: he seeks peace i n a n a r c i s s i s t i c world where he has o n l y t o c o n f r o n t h i m s e l f . L i f e would go on. No more human c o n t a c t s , other people's emotions washing at the b r a i n — he would be f r e e a g a i n : nothing to t h i n k about but h i m s e l f . M y s e l f : the word echoed h y g i e n i c a l l y on among the por-c e l a i n b a s i n s , the taps and plugs and wastes. P i n k i e i s an o u t s i d e r from b i r t h ^ , a l i e n a t e d from h i s pa r e n t s , then orphaned, l e f t t o fend f o r hi m s e l f i n a h o s t i l e world; he models h i m s e l f on a p e t t y c r i m i n a l , K i t e , who f o r some whim-sy or out of some compassionate reason takes P i n k i e home wit h him. L i k e K i t e , who i s subsequently murdered by C o l l e o n i ' s mob a t the r a i l w a y s t a t i o n , 'carved' and l e f t t o d i e , P i n k i e a b s t a i n s from smoking and d r i n k i n g , b i t e s h i s n a i l s t o the qui c k , and f i g h t s a l o s i n g war a g a i n s t C o l l e o n i ' s impersonal and h i g h l y o r g a n i z e d s y n d i c a t e . P i n k i e s e t s out t o revenge K i t e ' s death, and as the novel opens we see Hale, the v i c t i m , being slowly pursued through the s t r e e t s and t u n n e l s of B r i g h t o n . He d i e s , but not bef o r e h i s own s e l f - a p p o i n t e d agent of revenge, a f o r t y i s h , b i g - b r e a s t e d woman of 'blown charm' named Ida A r n o l d takes up h i s cause. She p r o f e s s e s t o b e l i e v e i n J u s t i c e , i n Right and Wrong, but i s more concerned w i t h excitement and t i t i l l a t i o n . She pursues P i n k i e throughout the n o v e l , e n j o y i n g her i n e x o r a b l e p u r s u i t , s e r v i n g r i g h t a g a i n s t wrong, y e t f a i l i n g t o see the i n d i v i d u a l harm she i s doing by d r i v i n g P i n k i e t o d e s p e r a t i o n , murder, and s u i c i d e . Even one of her 'admirers', P h i l Corkery, who i s v i s i b l y d r a i n e d and rendered impotent by her good'natured p a s s i o n , i s aware of the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of d e s t r u c t i o n i n Ida's a t t i t u d e . He t r i e s t o t e l l Ida t o leave P i n k i e alone; i t i s not t h e i r b u s i n e s s : 60 She broke o f f t o s e t him g e n t l y r i g h t . You c o u l d n ' t l e t a f r i e n d have wrong i d e a s . ' I t ' s the business of anyone who knows the d i f f e r e n c e between Right and Wrong'. 'But you're so t e r r i b l y c e r t a i n about t h i n g s , Ida. You go b u s t i n g i n . . . Oh, you mean w e l l , but how do we know the reasons he may have had? . . . And b e s i d e s ' , he accused her, 'you're o n l y doing i t because i t ' s fun. Fred wasn't anyone you cared about'. She switched towards him her l a r g e and l i t up eyes. 'Why', she s a i d , 'I don't say i t hasn't been e x c i t i n g ' . She f e l t q u i t e s o r r y i t was a l l over now. B r i g h t o n Rock i s a t i t s h e a r t a b a t t l e between two views of m o r a l i t y — the e t e r n a l and the s o c i a l . P i n k i e sees the world through the l i g h t of Good and E v i l , whereas Ida A r n o l d i s the upholder of the s o c i a l law of r i g h t and wrong, and i s un-i n t e r e s t e d i n the e t e r n i t i e s of s a l v a t i o n and damnation which haunt P i n k i e . I f one can see the novel as a j u x t a p o s i t i o n of two i n c o m p a t i b l e world views, i t i s not s u r p r i s i n g t h a t Greene as a C h r i s t i a n would attempt to e x p l o r e the r e l a t i o n s h i p s between these two worlds, a c c e n t u a t i n g the deep, dark, f e a r f u l world of P i n k i e Brown a g a i n s t the l i m i t e d day-to-day e x i s t e n c e of mass humanity, re p r e s e n t e d by a b i g - b r e a s t e d middle-aged blond, Ida A r n o l d . P i n k i e and Rose, both C a t h o l i c s , e x i s t i n an a p o c a l y p t i c world which the a d u l t s cannot e n t e r . They are o u t s i d e r s i n a s e c u l a r world; they see t h e i r a c t i o n s and t h e i r behaviour i n a completely d i f f e r e n t l i g h t . At one p o i n t , when Ida i s t r y i n g t o 'save' Rose from P i n k i e ' s malign i n f l u e n c e , Ida says: 61 'I know one t h i n g you don't. I know the d i f f e r e n c e between Right and Wrong. They d i d n ' t teach you t h a t a t s c h o o l . ' Rose d i d n ' t answer; the woman was q u i t e r i g h t ; the two words meant nothin g to her. T h e i r t a s t e was e x t i n g u i s h e d by strange foods — Good and E v i l . The woman coul d t e l l her nothing she d i d n ' t know about these — she knew by t e s t s as c l e a r as mathematics t h a t P i n k i e was e v i l — what d i d i t matter i n t h a t case whether he was r i g h t or wrong? 6 P i n k i e ' s brand of C a t h o l i c i s m i s r e a l l y a k i n d of Manich-eism. He b e l i e v e s i n the e x i s t e n c e of H e l l and e t e r n a l dam-n a t i o n because to him i t i s the o n l y r a t i o n a l e x p l a n a t i o n f o r the h o r r o r he experiences i n the world around him. When Rose, the young, innocent w a i t r e s s who becomes P i n k i e ' s c h i l d w i f e , asks him whether he b e l i e v e s i n the C a t h o l i c v i s i o n of the world, he r e p l i e s : 'Of course i t ' s t r u e ' , the Boy s a i d . 'What e l s e c o u l d t h e r e be?' he went s c o r n f u l l y on. 'Why', he s a i d , ' i t ' s the o n l y t h i n g t h a t f i t s . These a t h e i s t s , they don't know nothin g . Of course t h e r e ' s H e l l , flames and damnation', he s a i d w i t h h i s eyes on the dark s h i f t i n g water and the l i g h t n i n g and the lamps going out above the b l a c k s t r u t s of the Palace P i e r , 'torments * . 2 7 Rose and P i n k i e are u n i t e d by a bond, by the strange a t t r a c t i o n between good and e v i l , and P i n k i e i s aware of t h i s growing bond, from which he d e s p e r a t e l y t r i e s t o escape. He r e a l i z e s t h a t they share a world which i s o l a t e s them from the world of the a d u l t s . She was good, he'd d i s c o v e r e d t h a t , and he was damned; they were made f o r each o t h e r . 2 8 Rose, however, i n s p i t e of her innocence and t i m i d i t y , i s able t o accept the world around her; she has p a t i e n c e , and a h u m i l i t y t h a t separates her from P i n k i e , who longs f o r peace but can o n l y g i v e and r e c e i v e p a i n . "He was l i k e a c h i l d w i t h 2 9 haemophilia: every c o n t a c t drew blood." Ida and her type, on the other hand, l i v e s as i f i n a f o r e i g n country. She was as f a r from e i t h e r of them as she was from H e l l — or Heaven. Good and e v i l l i v e d i n the same country, spoke the same^Q language, came tog e t h e r l i k e o l d f r i e n d s . However d i f f e r e n t Rose and P i n k i e are, they are i n e x t r i c -a b l y l i n k e d by t h e i r moral viewpoint, j u s t as Ida i s excluded because of hers. T h i s seeming f a v o u r i t i s m on Greene's p a r t has long been a bone of c o n t e n t i o n among c r i t i c s . Walter A l l e n f e e l s t h a t : In many ways, as h i s f i r s t f u l l y mature work, B r i g h t o n Rock may be taken as the a r c h e t y p a l Greene novel i n which the s i n n e r seems nearer to God, more l i k e l y t o r e c e i v e the v i s i t a t i o n s of Grace, than the innocent humanitarian. Perhaps Greene, however, i s concerned w i t h the i n t e n s i t y of f e l t experience as the q u a l i t y needed f o r s a l v a t i o n r a t h e r than the u s u a l r a t i n g on the moral s c a l e . Both Rose and P i n k i e , l i v i n g under the awesome sky of e t e r n i t y , have f a r more i n t e n -s i t y and p a s s i o n than the outwardly p a s s i o n a t e 'humanitarian', Ida, who, as Greene s c a t h i n g l y remarks, " . . . bore the same 32 r e l a t i o n s h i p t o p a s s i o n as a peepshow." Ch a r l e s Peguy, one of the C a t h o l i c w r i t e r s who i n f l u e n c e d Greene a g r e a t d e a l , i n d i r e c t l y throws some l i g h t on the bond 63 between P i n k i e and Rose, and the e x c l u s i o n of Ida from t h e i r world, i n the f o l l o w i n g passage: The s i n n e r , together with the s a i n t , e n t e r s i n t o the system, i s of the system of C h r i s t -i a n i t y . He who does not en t e r i n t o the system, he who does not h o l d out a hand, he i t i s who i s not a C h r i s t i a n . . . . I t i s a c i t y . A bad c i t i z e n belongs t o the c i t y . A good s t r a n g e r does not . . . . What i s most c o n t r a r y t o s a l v a t i o n i s not s i n but h a b i t . I n t e n s i t y , whether of e v i l or good, i s i n a way more d e s i r -a b l e than the bland s e l f - a s s u r a n c e of the Ida Arnolds of t h i s world. In h i s famous essay on B a u d e l a i r e , E l i o t w r i t e s : So f a r as we are human, what we do must be e i t h e r e v i l or good; so f a r as we do e v i l or good, we are human; and i t i s b e t t e r , i n a p a r a d o x i c a l way, to do e v i l than t o do n o t h i n g : at l e a s t , we e x i s t . I t i s t r u e t o say t h a t the g l o r y of man i s h i s c a p a c i t y f o r s a l v a t i o n ; i t i s a l s o t r u e t o say t h a t h i s g l o r y i s h i s c a p a c i t y f o r damnation.34 In B r i g h t o n Rock, and u l t i m a t e l y i n h i s works as a whole, Greene i s st u d y i n g e x a c t l y t h a t : man's c a p a c i t y f o r both s a l -v a t i o n and damnation, and the d i s t i n c t i o n between the two. P i n k i e , the s p o i l e d p r i e s t , haunted by images of h e l l and damnation, whose password l i k e B a u d e l a i r e ' s i s 'Credo i n Unum Satanum', i s trapped i n h i s own v i s i o n of an e t e r n i t y of p a i n t o such an extent t h a t the only t h i n g he can do i s to take p r i d e i n h i s damnation and t r y to r e b e l more and more a g a i n s t God, the u l t i m a t e f o r c e of s p i r i t u a l a u t h o r i t y . In F r e u d i a n terms P i n k i e seems t o s u f f e r from a b i t t e r h a t r e d of the f a t h e r 64 f i g u r e , and i n the f i n a l c o n c l u s i o n a l l h i s murders and a c t s of c r u e l t y can be seen as nothing more than a c h i l d i s h tantrum. Greene i s p r i m a r i l y concerned with people who seemingly l i v e i n a country which i s a l i e n t o the mass of humanity. His compassion l i e s w i t h the o u t s i d e r s , the c r i m i n a l s and the f a i l -u r e s , the moral o u t c a s t s who l i v e and s u f f e r on a deeper emotional plane than the crowd. To these c h a r a c t e r s , l i f e i s trauma, a torment of u n f i l f i l l e d d e s i r e s , s h a t t e r e d hopes and an a g o n i z i n g sense of g u i l t . The g r e a t e s t need i s f o r e x p i a t i o n , f o r peace, and s u r e l y t h i s i s why the theme of s u i c i d e i s so prominent i n Greene's works as a whole. As he w r i t e s i n The Heart of the Matter; "We are a l l of us r e s i g n e d 35 to death: i t ' s l i f e we aren't r e s i g n e d t o . " P i n k i e , who l i v e s i n t h i s a l i e n country, a b s o l u t e l y r e f u s e s t o r e s i g n h i m s e l f t o l i f e . When Drew i t t , P i n k i e ' s seedy c l a s s i c s - s p o u t i n g lawyer, quotes from Marlowe's Faustus: 3 6 "'Why, t h i s i s H e l l , nor are we out of i t ' , " P i n k i e , hearing h i s own unspoken ph i l o s o p h y coming from Dre w i t t ' s mouth, s t a r e s 37 " . . . w i t h f a s c i n a t i o n and f e a r . " He h i m s e l f sees l i f e as a long drawn-out H e l l which must be avoided a t any c o s t . H i s g r e a t e s t h o r r o r i s of l i f e going on i n t e r m i n a b l y , while one s l o w l y s i n k s from growing c o r r u p t i o n t o eventual i n d i f f e r e n c e . L i f e t o P i n k i e i s i n e x t r i c a b l y t i e d t o h i s d i s g u s t of s e x u a l i t y , which emerged from what Freud c a l l s the 'primal scene', i n which the s m a l l c h i l d l i s t e n s t o o r watches h i s parents making love and mistakes the love-making f o r v i o l e n c e . Dallow, P i n k i e ' s f a i t h f u l b u l l d o g - l i k e shadow who supposedly serves as the 'muscle' to back up P i n k i e ' s ' b r a i n s ' , i s amused t h a t P i n k i e has a g i r l f r i e n d : 'An' you got a g i r l ' , Dallow s a i d w i t h hollow c h e e r i n e s s . 'You're growing up, P i n k i e — l i k e your f a t h e r . ' L i k e my f a t h e r . . . . The Boy was shaken again w i t h h i s n o c t u r n a l Saturday d i s g u s t . He c o u l d n ' t blame h i s f a t h e r now . . . i t was what you came t o . . . you got mixed up, and then, he supposed, the h a b i t grew . . . you gave y o u r s e l f away weekly. You c o u l d n ' t even blame the g i r l . I t was l i f e g e t t i n g at you . . . there were even the b l i n d seconds when you thought i t f i n e . P i n k i e ' s o n l y defense a g a i n s t the world of s e x u a l i t y and experience — the world which the a d u l t s , C u b i t t , Dallow, Ida, accept as r i g h t -- i s v i o l e n c e . The o n l y way of p r e s e r v i n g h i s b i t t e r and 'soured v i r g i n i t y ' , h i s sense of s e l f , i s by l a s h i n g out more and more w i l d l y at the world around him. He sees Rose s p e c i f i c a l l y as a temptation t h a t the world i s o f f e r i n g t o him: He watched her w i t h h i s soured v i r g i n i t y , as one might watch a draught of medicine o f f e r e d t h a t one would never, never take;^g one would d i e f i r s t — or l e t others d i e . Greene makes i t c l e a r t o the reader t h a t t h e r e i s a motive f o r P i n k i e ' s h a t r e d and v i o l e n c e : he i s not j u s t an i n c a r n a -t i o n of e v i l and d e s t r u c t i o n , but i s a c h i l d t o whom the s l a s h of a r a z o r and the snapping of a neck i s the o n l y way t o keep the world a t bay. As P i n k i e c o u r t s Rose, s o l e l y i n order to stop her t e s t i f y i n g a g a i n s t him, he r e a l i z e s t h a t : 66 . . . one needed h e l p f o r the nerves. His own were f r o z e n w i t h r e p u l s i o n : to be touched, to g i v e o n e s e l f away, t o l a y o n e s e l f open — he had h e l d intimacy back as loncjgas he c o u l d a t the end of a r a z o r blade. I t i s not s u r p r i s i n g t h a t P i n k i e as a c h i l d wanted t o be a p r i e s t . 'What's wrong w i t h being a p r i e s t ? ' the Boy s a i d . 'They know what's what. They keep away' — h i s whole mouth and jaw l o o s -ened; he might have been going to weep; he beat out w i l d l y w i t h h i s hands towards the window: Woman Found Drowned, t w o - v a l v e , ^ M a r r i e d Love, the h o r r o r — 'from t h i s ' . P i n k i e i s i n s p i t e of h i s murderousness an innocent i n a c o r r u p t world. But, as Greene develops more f u l l y i n The Quiet  American, innocence can be f a r more d e s t r u c t i v e to the world around i t than c o r r u p t i o n , because the 'innocent' does not have any r u l e s ; he does not know how to p l a y the game, c o r r u p t game though i t may be. He a c t s without sympathy, without com-p a s s i o n , because these q u a l i t i e s are o n l y l e a r n e d through experience. The world of innocence tends to be a c l o s e d world, wi t h l i t t l e i n common w i t h the r e s t of humanity. Even Rose, whose 'goodness' counterbalances P i n k i e ' s ' e v i l 1 , has nothing but contempt and d i s d a i n f o r Ida (who i n c i d e n t a l l y saves her l i f e ) , and the world t h a t Ida r e p r e s e n t s . Both are w i l l i n g t o 'damn' themselves i n t h e i r own eyes and i n the eyes of the world i n order t o escape i t s c l u t c h e s , and the l i n k between sex and v i o l e n c e and death which takes p l a c e i n P i n k i e ' s mind p o i n t s out h i s e s s e n t i a l d e s i r e to r e j e c t the burdens of l i f e . 67 P i n k i e l i v e s under the shadow of e t e r n i t y , and h i s v i s i o n of e t e r n i t y i s j u s t the e x t e n s i o n of the t o r t u r e he has s u f -f e r e d throughout h i s s h o r t l i f e , y e t even P i n k i e dreams vaguely of mercy and s a l v a t i o n . He t r i e s t o r e c a l l some r e l i g i o u s l i n e s from h i s c h i l d h o o d : 'You know what they say -- "Between the s t i r r u p and the ground, he something sought and something found"'. 'Mercy'. 42 'That's r i g h t : Mercy'. But h i s overwhelming d e s i r e t o escape the h o r r o r of Sweeney's ' b i r t h , c o p u l a t i o n and death' — the c y c l e of man's l i f e t h a t t o P i n k i e i s d i s g u s t i n g and p o i n t l e s s -- negates any v i s i o n of s a l v a t i o n t h a t he might have. In the r e v e a l i n g passage f o l l o w i n g , Greene i m p l i e s t h a t P i n k i e ' s 'damnation' i s e s s e n t i -a l l y h i s r e f u s a l t o become a p a r t of the f a b r i c of human l i f e . She got up and he saw the s k i n of her t h i g h f o r a moment above the a r t i f i c i a l s i l k , and a p r i c k of sexual d e s i r e d i s t u r b e d him l i k e a s i c k n e s s . That was what happened to a man i n the end: the s t u f f y room, the wakeful c h i l d r e n , the Saturday n i g h t move-ments from the other bed. Was t h e r e no escape — anywhere — f o r anyone? I t was worth murdering a world. P i n k i e t r i e s t o do j u s t t h a t ; one i s reminded of Raven, who shoots Cholmondeley as i f he were shooting the whole world: . . . and so he was. For a man's world i s h i s l i f e and he was shooting t h a t : h i s mother's s u i c i d e , the long years i n the Home, the race-course gangs, K i t e ' s death . . . There was no oth e r way: he had t r i e d the way of c o n f e s s i o n , and i t had f a i l e d him f o r the u s u a l reason. There was no one o u t s i d e your own b r a i n 68 whom you c o u l d t r u s t : .not a d o c t o r , not a p r i e s t , not a woman. P i n k i e and Raven are both d e f e a t e d by a l a c k of f a i t h i n l i f e i t s e l f . Both o u t s i d e r s , both c r i m i n a l s from the B r i g h t o n race t r a c k s , hunted by r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s of the con-t e n t e d masses of humanity, they d i r e c t t h e i r own d e s t i n i e s s t r a i g h t towards e x t i n c t i o n . They wish i d l y f o r peace and a b s o l u t i o n but are so t e r r i f i e d of l i f e t h a t , as Raven ex-p r e s s e s i t : " . . . the o n l y problem when you were once born was to get out of l i f e more n e a t l y and e x p e d i t i o u s l y 45 than you had entered i t . " Greene's p r o t a g o n i s t s seem always to be p o i s e d between involvement w i t h and r e j e c t i o n of l i f e : one of the c e n t r a l q u e s t i o n s i n most of h i s novels i s the q u e s t i o n of s u i c i d e . Is death the o n l y s o l u t i o n to a l i f e t i m e of pain? Can some commitment to l i f e be made without c o r r u p t i n g and d e s t r o y i n g o n e s e l f ? Is s u i c i d e the u l t i m a t e d e s t r u c t i o n of the s e l f ? In the ways i n which Greene answers these q u e s t i o n s one can see how h i s a r t i s t r y develops from shallowness to depth, from melodrama to t r u t h . Harry Andrews' s u i c i d e i s pure melodrama. Scobie's i s i n some ways a tragedy, a death which c r e a t e s the r e v e r b e r a t i o n s of t r u e a r t , which allows us a glimpse i n t o the human s o u l which few modern authors have rendered more movingly and r e a l i s t i c a l l y . P i n k i e too, chooses death t o l i f e , but s i g n i f i c a n t l y he seems t o have l e s s of a r e a l c h o i c e than Scobie, and t h e r e f o r e 69 i s l e s s of a t r a g i c f i g u r e . In Greene's l a t e r novels the c h a r a c t e r s do d i s c o v e r some commitment t o l i f e w i t h i n them-s e l v e s and t h e i r world -- t h i s i s e s s e n t i a l l y the p r o g r e s s i o n I see o c c u r r i n g i n Greene's f i c t i o n -- but i t i s not a simple l i n e a r development. I t i s not u n t i l Greene's heroes are capable of making a moral c h o i c e , r a t h e r than being merely v i c t i m s of a f a t a l i s t i c world, t h a t the q u e s t i o n of r e j e c t i o n of l i f e can have t r a g i c p o s s i b i l i t i e s . U n l i k e Scobie, who makes a moral c h o i c e through h i s own w i l l t o end h i s l i f e , c h a r a c t e r s i n e a r l i e r n o v e l s ( f o r example Anthony F a r r a n t i n England Made Me and Harry Andrews i n The Man Within) are simply so hounded by t h e i r environment t h a t death by murder or s u i c i d e i s u l t i m a t e l y i n d i s t i n g u i s h a b l e ; both Anthony, who i s murdered and Harry, who commits s u i c i d e , are f a t a l l y doomed t o d i e by the v e r y nature of the world they l i v e i n . B r i g h t o n Rock i s a p i v o t a l n o v e l i n t h i s development because P i n k i e i s seen both as a v i c t i m of h i s environment and as a human being w i t h a s o u l capable of being saved or damned. T h i s t e n s i o n w i t h i n the n o v e l tends t o make Greene's p o r t r a y a l of P i n k i e a t times ambivalent, but i t a l s o p o i n t s to a deepening awareness of the complexity of man's e x i s t e n c e , which i s developed more f u l l y i n the novels immediately f o l l o w -i n g B r i g h t o n Rock. P i n k i e h i m s e l f , as he i s d r i v e n f u r t h e r i n t o e v i l and murder, and c l o s e r t o h i s own death, sees h i m s e l f being trapped, b eing i s o l a t e d from a sense of hope and freedom 70 and peace t h a t he knows i s i m p o s s i b l e to reach: . . . i n e x p l i c a b l y , the Boy began to weep. He shut h i s eyes to hold i n h i s t e a r s , but the music went on — i t was l i k e a v i s i o n of r e l e a s e to an imprisoned man. He f e l t c o n s t r i c t i o n and saw — hope-l e s s l y out of reach — a l i m i t l e s s freedom: no f e a r , no h a t r e d , no envy. I t was as i f he were dead and were r e -membering the e f f e c t of a good c o n f e s s i o n , the words of a b s o l u t i o n ; but being dead i t was a memory onl y — he c o u l d n ' t experience c o n t r i t i o n — the r i b s of h i s body were l i k e s t e e l bands whjch h e l d him down to e t e r n a l unrepentance. Only l a t e r does he r e a l i z e t h a t " . . . o n l y death c o u l d 47 ever s e t him f r e e . . . and: . . . more than ever y e t he had the sense t h a t he was being d r i v e n f a r t h e r and deeper than he'd ever meant to go. A c u r i o u s and c r u e l p l e a s u r e touched him -- he d i d n ' t r e a l l y care so very much -- i t was being d e c i d e d f o r him, and a l l he had t o do was to l e t h i m s e l f e a s i l y go. He knew what the end might be — i t d i d n ' t h o r r i f y him: i t was e a s i e r than l i f e . I t would seem from the above q u o t a t i o n t h a t P i n k i e accept a f a t a l i s t i c view of l i f e i n o r d e r to evade the moral consequ-ences of h i s a c t i o n s , s i n c e he r e a l l y p r e f e r s the p e a c e f u l vacuum of death to the continued anguish and t e r r o r of l i f e , but Greene h i m s e l f i m p l i e s t h a t P i n k i e r e a l l y has no p o s s i b i l i of making a moral c h o i c e : h i s whole being has been shaped by h i s s o r d i d impoverished u p b r i n g i n g . P i n k i e can't conceive of mercy, or redemption, or c h o i c e , because: . . . a b r a i n was capable o n l y of what i t c o u l d conceive and i t c o u l d n ' t conceive what i t had never experienced; h i s c e l l s were formed of the cement school p l a y -ground, the dead f i r e and the dying man 71 i n the St. Pancras w a i t i n g room, h i s bed at B i l l y ' s and h i s pa r e n t s ' bed. An awful resentment s t i r r e d i n him -- why shouldn't he have had h i s chance l i k e a l l the r e s t , seen h i s glimpse of Heaven i f i t was o n l y a c r a c k between the B r i g h t o n w a l l s ? 4 When K i t e i s murdered a t the St. Pancras s t a t i o n , P i n k i e t r i e s d e s p e r a t e l y t o assume K i t e ' s r o l e i n order t o a v o i d the h o r r o r of having t o f a l l back on h i s own i n s i g n i f i c a n t s e l f . " K i t e had d i e d , but he had prolonged K i t e ' s e x i s t e n c e — not touching l i q u o r , b i t i n g h i s n a i l s i n the K i t e way, u n t i l she 50 came and a l t e r e d e v e r y t h i n g . " When he becomes i n v o l v e d with Rose, who i n t u i t i v e l y knows and shares h i s s q u a l i d background, h i s r e l i g i o n , and h i s i n -s e c u r i t i e s and f e a r s , he i s made to c o n f r o n t h i m s e l f , and t o l i v e through h i m s e l f r a t h e r than through K i t e ' s image. Rose r e p r e s e n t s hope and l o v e , but she a l s o r e p r e s e n t s f o r P i n k i e , who t r i e s d e s p e r a t e l y t o harden and c o r r u p t h i s own innocence i n order t o be an equal i n the underground world, something he cannot stand t o be reminded o f . She reminds him of h i s own ch i l d h o o d and of h i s own t e r r o r and i n s i g n i f i c a n c e which i s t o t a l l y a n t i p a t h e t i c t o h i s ambitious d i c t a t o r i a l dreams. He begins t o r e a l i z e t h a t the c e n t r a l i s s u e i s the deve l o p i n g r e l a t i o n s h i p between h i m s e l f and Rose; the other f o r c e s and events i n h i s l i f e — Ida A r n o l d , h i s murders, h i s grad u a l entrapment by ' J u s t i c e ' — are becoming more and more e x t e r n a l and almost f o r g o t t e n . The whole o r i g i n of the t h i n g was l o s t : he c o u l d h a r d l y remember Hale as a person or h i s murder as^a crime — i t was a l l now him and her. The success or f a i l u r e of the r e l a t i o n s h i p s between the c e n t r a l male and female c h a r a c t e r s d i r e c t l y c o n t r i b u t e t o the u l t i m a t e f a t e of the 'hero' i n almost a l l of Graham Greene's n o v e l s . The f o r c e of lov e i s a st r o n g and p o s i t i v e one; i t allows the o u t s i d e r the p o s s i b i l i t y of redemption and of union w i t h the moral and p h y s i c a l world around him. But a l l too o f t e n the p r o t a g o n i s t r e j e c t s the lov e t h a t i s o f f e r e d , or d e s t r o y s i t by being unable t o r e t u r n anything but p i t y or even hat r e d . Scobie's sense of p i t y i s u l t i m a t e l y h i s undoing; P i n k i e ' s h a t r e d of Rose and her l o v e ' f o r him m i r r o r s h i s r e j e c t i o n of l i f e i t s e l f . I f he 'opens up', he f e e l s he w i l l be destroyed. Towards the end of the book, P i n k i e ' s a t t i t u d e t o Rose begins to undergo an i n t e r e s t i n g t r a n s f o r m a t i o n , but the power of lo v e , which seems a l s o t o symbolize the sense of r e l i g i o u s grace or mercy, i s unable t o crack the p r i s o n w a l l s of P i n k i e ' s tormented mind. Although P i n k i e ' s message engraved on the r e c o r d — "'God damn you, you l i t t l e b i t c h , why can't you go 52 back home f o r e v e r and l e t me be?'" -- i s perhaps "the worst 53 h o r r o r of a l l " t h a t awaits Rose a f t e r P i n k i e ' s s u i c i d e , t h a t i s not r e a l l y P i n k i e ' s f e e l i n g towards Rose and the awesome qu e s t i o n s o f l o v e , grace and mercy t h a t r e v o l v e i n h i s mind as h i s death comes c l o s e r . I t was q u i t e t r u e — he hadn't hat r e d her; he hadn't even hated the a c t . There had been a k i n d of p l e a s u r e , a k i n d of p r i d e , a k i n d of something e l s e . . . An enormous 73 emotion beat on him; i t was l i k e something t r y i n g t o get i n , the pressure of g i g a n t i c wings a g a i n s t the g l a s s . Dona nobis pacem. He withstood i t , w i t h a l l the b i t t e r f o r c e of the s c h o o l bench, the cement playground, the S t . Pancras waiting-room, D a l l o w 1 s and Judy's s e c r e t l u s t , and the c o l d , unhappy moment on the p i e r . I f the g l a s s broke, i f the beast -- whatever i t was — got i n , God knows what i t would do. He had a sense of huge havoc — the c o n f e s s i o n , the penance, and the sacrament -- an awful d i s t r a c t i o n , and he drove b l i n d i n t o the r a i n . 5 4 In both A Gun f o r Sale and B r i g h t o n Rock th e r e i s a glimpse of s a l v a t i o n , a s a l v a t i o n t h a t would save the o u t s i d e r from the b i t t e r i n t e n s i t y of h i s own l o n e l y s e l f , and i t i s Rose and Anne Crowder who i n d i r e c t l y a t l e a s t o f f e r t h i s peace. Rose's lov e f o r P i n k i e o f f e r s him a k i n d of a b s o l u t i o n and communion, but although he longs f o r some s o r t of escape from h i s burning h a t r e d he i s too a f r a i d of l i f e t o accept the l o v e she o f f e r s him. Raven, on the other hand, j o y o u s l y accepts the communion and t r u s t Anne o f f e r s him, but i t i s she who f a i l s him. So i t would seem then t h a t i n these two books the desperate p r o t a g o n i s t who longs t o f e e l a p a r t of something or somebody other than h i m s e l f f a i l s t o m a i n t a i n any r e a l c o n t a c t , and consequently Raven and P i n k i e d i e alone and empty, v i c t i m s of themselves and of s o c i e t y . And y e t t h e r e has been some k i n d of development; the p o s s i b i l i t y of hope and l o v e begins to emerge. Perhaps the beast — whatever i t i s — w i l l smash the g l a s s and a l l o w the p r o t a g o n i s t t o escape from the c o n f i n i n g w a l l s of h i s s e l f -imposed p r i s o n . The q u a l i t y of f a t a l i s m t h a t g r i p s Greene's f i c t i o n a l world, although i t c o n t i n u e s t o thwart and d e s t r o y 74 the c e n t r a l f i g u r e s , i s beginning t o l o s e i t s omnipotence; the r e i s a chink i n the armour somewhere; i t i s up to the charac-t e r s t o f i n d i t . With P i n k i e ' s s u i c i d e l e a p o f f the c l i f f i n t o the b l a c k -ness of the E n g l i s h Channel, the sea which has served as a sym-b o l of d e s p a i r and emptiness throughout the n o v e l , the torment of P i n k i e ' s t w i s t e d consciousness i s f i n a l l y brought to an end, and perhaps he f i n d s the peace which he so d e s p e r a t e l y wants — the peace which he h i m s e l f g r a d u a l l y understands to be a d e s i r e f o r c e s s a t i o n and death. Greene's a t t i t u d e to P i n k i e a t the p o i n t of h i s death i s one of compassion: P i n k i e i s not complete-l y e v i l ; he i s not e n t i r e l y damned. B r i g h t o n Rock ends, l i k e The Heart of the Matter and one of Greene's p l a y s , The L i v i n g  Room, w i t h an a c t of c o n f e s s i o n and the words of a p r i e s t : "'You can't c o n c e i v e , my c h i l d , nor can I or anyone — the 55 a p p a l l i n g . . . strangeness of the mercy of God'." The r o l e of the p r i e s t i s an i n t e r e s t i n g one i n Greene's f i c t i o n ; he o f t e n serves t o p o i n t out the ambiguity of l i f e and the i m p o s s i b i l i t y of making sense out of the h o r r o r and chaos of e x i s t e n c e . More a p h i l o s o p h e r of man's c o n d i t i o n than a r e l i g i o u s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e , the p r i e s t can o n l y o f f e r a k i n d of comfort and a b s o l u t i o n to the wrecked s u r v i v o r s of the tumult. Despair i s the u l t i m a t e enemy of Greene's p r o t a g o n i s t s ; they wage a constant and o f t e n l o s i n g b a t t l e w i t h t h i s f o r c e of emptiness and n u l l i t y which m i r r o r s the E x i s t e n t i a l i s t 'ennui' and Roquentin's 'nausea'. Greene as a n o v e l i s t i s d r i v e n ". . . by a t e r r o r of l i f e , a t e r r o r of what experience can do to the i n d i v i d u a l , a t e r r o r of a predetermined c o r r u p t i o n . 56 . ." to e x p l o r e the depths of man's d e s p a i r . As he develops as a w r i t e r , and e x p l o r e s t h i s no-man's-land of t e r r o r and emp-t i n e s s more and more c o n v i n c i n g l y , he begins t o f i n d t h a t even t h e r e , i n the darkness and f e a r t h a t surrounds a l l of h i s main c h a r a c t e r s , t h e r e e x i s t s some k i n d of hope -- some f a i n t glimmer ing of l o v e and optimism. I am not i m p l y i n g t h a t t h e r e i s a s t r a i g h t p r o g r e s s i o n from d e s p a i r t o hopefulness i n Greene's f i c t i o n a l v i s i o n : f i r s t he must plumb the depths of d e s p a i r , c o n f r o n t i t and understand i t s causes, as he does i n The Heart  of the Matter. Only then can the power of l i f e l a t e n t i n Greene v i s i o n and i n the minds of h i s c h a r a c t e r s , r i s e above the search f o r death, however shaky t h a t emergence may be. The t e n s i o n between hope and d e s p a i r i s always prese n t i n Greene's p r o t a g -o n i s t s , but o n l y when the world of d e s p a i r i s f u l l y opened can any hope break through. I t i s here t h a t the r o l e of l o v e i n Greene's works operates as a r e l e a s i n g , l i f e - g i v i n g f o r c e . As John A t k i n s w r i t e s : In h i s f i c t i o n most v a l u e s are d i s c o v e r e d to be hollow but t h e r e i s always someone's love t h a t remains sound: Rose's i n B r i g h t o n Rock, Scobie's i n The Heart of the Matter, and Bendrix's i n The End of the A f f a i r — or l o o k i n g backwards, Kate's i n England  Made Me. The love i s u s u a l l y b a t t e r e d , even warped (as was Bendrix's) but i t i s s t i l l r e c o g n i z a b l y l o v e . 5 ? B r i g h t o n Rock e x p l o r e s t h i s v i s i o n of d e s p a i r through the eyes of P i n k i e , who i s e s s e n t i a l l y a c h i l d , even though 76 he i s capable of murder. As P i n k i e comes c l o s e r to h i s d e s t r u c -t i o n , he seems to r e g r e s s from h i s s u p e r f i c i a l adulthood: She c o u l d see h i s face i n d i s t i n c t l y as i t l e a n t i n -- over the l i t t l e dashboard l i g h t . I t was l i k e a c h i l d ' s , badgered, confused, betrayed; fake years s l i p p e d away — he was whisked back towards the unhappy p l a y -ground . 58 The a d u l t world i s too much f o r him, and we see him a t the end f l y i n g backwards i n t o the abyss of non-existence, burning not w i t h the flames of h e l l - f i r e t h a t he always b e l i e v e d were w a i t i n g f o r him, but i r o n i c a l l y w i t h h i s own f a v o u r i t e weapon — the b o t t l e of v i t r i o l t h a t explodes over h i s face with the smash-ing blow from the policeman's n i g h t - s t i c k . Unable to accept the hope t h a t Rose's love o f f e r s , and c o n d i t i o n e d i n t o f a t -a l i s m by h i s harsh and barren environment, P i n k i e remains beyond the p a l e , unable to r e t u r n to the warmth of the human f o l d . He i s an o u t s i d e r from b i r t h , h o p e l e s s l y l o s t i n an a l i e n world. Perhaps one c o u l d say the same of the p r o t a g o n i s t s from Greene's e a r l i e r n o v e l s , but B r i g h t o n Rock d i f f e r s from the e a r l i e r novels because of i t s scope and i n t e n s i t y , and i t s focus on the environmental f o r c e s t h a t i n d e l i b l y f i x the image of l i f e onto the c h i l d ' s mind. To quote John A t k i n s a g a i n : As Greene's c o n v i c t i o n grows t h a t the r e a l power of c r e a t i o n d e r i v e s from the p e r s i s -t e n t p r e s s u r e of c h i l d h o o d f e a r s and mis-g i v i n g s , and as he l e a r n s t o draw on them more e a s i l y , so h i s f i c t i o n improves and i t s i n t e n s i t y deepens. 5^ With B r i g h t o n Rock the f i r s t phase of p r o g r e s s i o n i n the n o v e l s of Graham Greene i s brought t o a c l o s e . The ' o u t s i d e r as v i c t i m " theme i s g i v e n perhaps i t s f i n a l r e n d e r i n g , and the search f o r some k i n d of redemption — e i t h e r p e r s o n a l , moral or r e l i g i o u s — begins. T h i s i s not t o say t h a t the o p p r e s s i v e power of the environment and the f a t a l i s t i c m a n i p u l a t i o n of the p r o t a g o n i s t cease t o be a p a r t of Greene's world;, what does occur, however, i s a s h i f t i n emphasis, from the ever-deepening e x p l o r a t i o n of f a t a l i s t i c d e s p a i r t o a c a u t i o u s but perhaps i n c r e a s i n g l y h o p e f u l a n a l y s i s of man's c o n d i t i o n . His c h a r a -t e r s w i l l s t i l l s u f f e r from d e s p a i r , but they w i l l be able t o a c t , t o choose, t o have some ki n d of f r e e w i l l t o c r e a t e t h e i r own d e s t i n y , f o r b e t t e r or f o r worse. One c o u l d perhaps d e f i n e t h i s p r o g r e s s i v e change i n Greene's v i s i o n as a n o v e l i s t as a s h i f t from n a t u r a l i s m and determinism t o a wider and more i n c l u s i v e r e a l i s m , which not o n l y o f f e r s more scope f o r h i s d i s s e c t i o n of the human c o n d i t i o n , but a l s o c o n t a i n s the p o s s i -b i l i t y of n o b i l i t y and tragedy t h a t a f a t a l i s t i c world view would not. In Greene's next two n o v e l s , The Power and the G l o r y and The Heart of the Matter, h i s c h a r a c t e r s r i s e above the f o r c e of environment s p e c i f i c a l l y because i n the f i n a l moment they do have f r e e w i l l ; they can make a moral c h o i c e which separ-ates them as i n d i v i d u a l s from the o f t e n h o s t i l e and empty worlds they l i v e i n . I t i s a f a i r l y w i d e l y h e l d c r i t i c a l o p i n i o n t h a t , as one c r i t i c w r i t e s , Greene's c h a r a c t e r s : . . . are merely products of t h e i r e n v i r -onment, something important i s l e f t out . . . They are c r e a t e d by t h e i r environment. 78 The i n e v i t a b l e r e s u l t i s t h a t they tend t o be regarded as i n f e r i o r t o the environment, as emanations of i t and t h e r e f o r e i l l u s t r a -t i o n s of i t . The c l a s s i c a l heroes were emphasized by environment. Now the char-a c t e r emphasizes the world he l i v e s i n . . . I b e l i e v e t h i s theory i s e s s e n t i a l l y c o r r e c t up t o and i n c l u d i n g B r i g h t o n Rock, but from The Power and the G l o r y on-wards, the p r o t a g o n i s t slowly begins t o emerge as a l a r g e r , more rounded and f u l l y developed c h a r a c t e r , and i t i s from t h i s p o i n t t h a t Greene has made h i s g r e a t e s t c o n t r i b u t i o n t o the 20th century B r i t i s h n o v e l . 7<? CHAPTER THREE THE RISE OF THE INDIVIDUAL Greene, whose v i s i o n of man and h i s e x i s t e n c e evolved d u r i n g the 1920's and 1930's, was very much a p a r t of the i n t e l l e c t u a l and a r t i s t i c c l i m a t e of h i s time. L i k e other r e p r e s e n t a t i v e f i g u r e s of t h i s e r a -- E l i o t , Auden, Huxley, S a r t r e — Greene conti n u e s t o search throughout h i s w r i t i n g f o r some k i n d o f p e r s o n a l meaning i n a c h a o t i c world, f o r some s e t of va l u e s which w i l l enable one to s u r v i v e s p i r i t -u a l l y i n the modern wasteland. The end of the t h i r t i e s was a c r u c i a l p e r i o d i n the l i t e r a t u r e of the t w e n t i e t h c e n t u r y : the excitement, the sense of s o c i a l purpose, the i d e a t h a t a r t c o u l d change the p o l i t i c a l and s p i r i t u a l consciousness of a g e n e r a t i o n , d i e d d u r i n g the l a t e t h i r t i e s and e a r l y f o r t i e s , and each w r i t e r turned i n h i s own way from contemp-o r a r y d i s s e c t i o n s of man i n s o c i e t y t o a more p e r s o n a l and perhaps more i n d i v i d u a l e x p l o r a t i o n of the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of p e r s o n a l s a l v a t i o n or redemption. R i c h a r d K o s t e l a n e t z d e s c r i b e s t h i s process of ' t u r n i n g inward' as a g e n e r a l movement i n modern l i t e r a t u r e : 80 The g r e a t modern w r i t e r s have, i n g e n e r a l , progressed from a concern i n t h e i r e a r l y works w i t h the r e a l world, a concern which u s u a l l y i n v o l v e d a p r o t e s t a g a i n s t i t s harshness and d e c e i t , to an emphasis upon the essence of man o u t s i d e of h i s t o r y — a development e x e m p l i f i e d i n l i t e r a r y c a r e e r s as d i v e r s e as those of Thomas Mann, ^ T. S. E l i o t , Samuel Bec k e t t and James Joyce. David Pryce-Jones, speaking s p e c i f i c a l l y of the w r i t e r s of the t h i r t i e s , f e e l s , however, t h a t t h i s withdrawal from the r e a l world weakens t h e i r a r t . He w r i t e s : The f a i l u r e of the n i n e t e e n - t h i r t i e s then, has come to t h i s , t h a t i t s s u r v i v i n g and s t i l l c r e a t i v e w r i t e r s , f r i g h t e n e d by the suddenly a c c e l e r a t i n g d e t e r i o r a t i o n of human l i f e . . . have withdrawn from the impotent a c t i v i t y of r e l a t i n g s o c i a l experience t o l i f e or t o a r t . . . In Greene's w r i t i n g . . . the withdrawal from experience has l e d t o a p e r s o n a l world seemingly un-r e l a t e d t o e x t e r n a l s , which, i n t e r e s t i n g as i t s d e l i m i t a t i o n s may prove, has become an a b s o l u t e i n i t s e l f . C e r t a i n l y a change takes p l a c e i n Greene's f i c t i o n a f t e r B r i g h t o n Rock, and i n some ways i t i s d e p r e s s i v e change: h i s novel s on the whole become more r e s t r a i n e d i n tone, more s t a t i c and 'formal', more t h e o l o g i c a l and p h i l o s o p h i c a l i n nature and perhaps i n consequence more d e p r e s s i n g , c o n s i d e r i n g the gloomy nature of Greene's moral and e t h i c a l framework. In h i s fragmentaryrautobiography, A Sor t of L i f e , Greene diagnoses h i s c o n d i t i o n : "A manic-depressive, l i k e my grandfather — t h a t would be the v e r d i c t on me today, and a n a l y s i s had not 3 cured my c o n d i t i o n . " 81 Perhaps one can see Greene's w r i t i n g s of the 1940's as p a r t of a d e p r e s s i v e phase i n h i s c h a r a c t e r . As Pryce-Jones suggests, Greene does delve more and more deeply i n t o a 'personal w o r l d 1 i n h i s t h r e e novels of the f o r t i e s , and a t times the emphasis on C a t h o l i c i s m becomes j u s t another p a r t of the mysterious p r i v a t e symbolism passed between Greene and h i s c h a r a c t e r s and excluded t o some extent from h i s r e a d e r s . In these t h r e e n o v e l s , however, one can see the author s e a r c h i n g more p e n e t r a t i n g l y than b e f o r e f o r i n d i v i d u a l s o l u t i o n s t o the problems of human e x i s t e n c e , and s i n c e he i s t r y i n g t o d i s c o v e r 'the essence of man o u t s i d e of h i s t o r y ' i t i s not n e c e s s a r i l y a s i g n of a r t i s t i c decay t h a t Greene seems l e s s concerned with the p o r t r a y a l of the spectrum of an u n j u s t and o p p r e s s i v e s o c i a l world. L i k e E l i o t ' s l a t e r p o e t r y and Huxley's novels a f t e r Brave New World, Greene's novels of the f o r t i e s are more d i r e c t e d towards the e x p l o r a -t i o n of human va l u e s and the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of d i s c o v e r y contained i n t h i s e x p l o r a t i o n , than towards the p r e s e n t a t i o n of a ' r e a l i s t i c ' view of the contemporary world, which seems on l y t o l e a d to d e s p a i r . The wasteland i s s t i l l p r e s e n t i n these n o v e l s ; t h i s passage from E l i o t ' s The Waste Land presents e x a c t l y the image of decay and s t e r i l i t y t h a t Greene g i v e s us i n The  Power and the G l o r y : 82 Dead mountain mouth of c a r i o u s t e e t h t h a t cannot s p i t Here one can n e i t h e r stand nor l i e not s i t There i s not even s i l e n c e i n the mountains 4 But dry s t e r i l e thunder without r a i n . . . . However, although the landscape remains as o p p r e s s i v e and f a t a l i s t i c as b e f o r e , a new k i n d of optimism, perhaps a new c a p a c i t y f o r l i f e , a new s p i r i t u a l s t r e n g t h , seems t o emerge. One can see t h i s change t a k i n g p l a c e i n w r i t e r s as d i v e r s e as E l i o t , Auden, Huxley and Greene. The r e b e l s of the twenties and t h i r t i e s become the t h e o l o g i a n s , the p h i l -osophers, the m y stics of the f o r t i e s and f i f t i e s . The importance of theology, s p e c i f i c a l l y C a t h o l i c t heology, i n Greene's w r i t i n g s i s o f t e n overemphasized, however. A f t e r The Power and the G l o r y , Greene's most o b v i o u s l y r e l i g i o u s and most s t a t i c , f o r c e d n o v e l — "I t h i n k The Power and the 5 G l o r y was the o n l y n o v e l I have w r i t t e n t o a t h e s i s . . . " the f o l l o w i n g novels become l e s s and l e s s concerned with p r e s e n t -i n g an orthodox r e l i g i o u s a l l e g o r y and much more c e n t r e d around an e x i s t e n t i a l i s t concept of man's e x i s t e n c e , i n many ways s i m i l a r t o Camus' d e f i n i t i o n of the absurd. Camus w r i t e s : "Man stands f a c e t o f a c e w i t h the i r r a t i o n a l . He f e e l s w i t h -i n him h i s l o n g i n g f o r happiness and reason. The absurd i s born of t h i s c o n f r o n t a t i o n between the human need and the unreasonable s i l e n c e of the world." Perhaps Greene, i n s p i t e of h i s E n g l i s h background and h i s C a t h o l i c i s m , f i n a l l y has more i n common wit h a w r i t e r l i k e 83 Kafka or Camus than w i t h T. S. E l i o t or Aldous Huxley. To quote from Maurice Friedman: Kafka knows t h a t the person does not e x i s t as a s e l f - e v i d e n t , s e l f - s u f f i c i e n t r e a l i t y . . . The person i n the modern world e x i s t s as pure paradox: responding with a c a l l i n g of which he i s never sure to a c a l l which he can never c l e a r l y hear. For Kafka i t cannot be a q u e s t i o n of over-throwing the ' a u t h o r i t a r i a n ' i n favour of the 'humanistic', as i t i s f o r E r i c h Fromm, but of d i s c o v e r i n g the human again and aga i n i n the very h e a r t of the b e w i l d e r i n g s o c i a l h i e r a r c h y , p e r s o n a l meaning i n the midst of the impersonal absurd. T h i s i s what I f e e l l i e s a t the heart of The Power and  the G l o r y ; o n l y on one l e v e l i s i t a r e l i g i o u s a l l e g o r y , a b a t t l e between the s p i r i t u a l and m a t e r i a l realms. At the t r u e c e n t r e of the book Greene g i v e s us a p i c t u r e of one l o s t man's search f o r meaning and commitment, a man who courage-o u s l y c o n f r o n t s the v o i d t h a t he knows by another name — d e s p a i r . * * * The Power and the G l o r y i s Greene's f i r s t n o v e l with a t r o p i c a l s e t t i n g , and y e t one f e e l s t h a t one has been t h e r e b e f o r e ; and one has, i n a l l h i s e a r l i e r n o v e l s , s i n c e the s e t t i n g comes more from Greene's obsessed i n n e r world than from any r e a l p l a c e . His a r t i s p e r s o n a l and i n s t i n c t i v e , and reaches one f i r s t on the i n t u i t i v e emotional l e v e l . In h i s r e c e n t a u t o b i o g r a p h i c a l volume A Sort of L i f e , he d e s c r i b e s : " . . . the memories of f l i g h t , r e b e l l i o n and misery d u r i n g g those f i r s t s i x t e e n years when the n o v e l i s t i s formed . . ." ; 84 h i s own years i n sc h o o l were much l i k e K u rtz's plunge i n t o the heart of darkness, or the whiskey p r i e s t ' s s t a g g e r i n g s through the j u n g l e : I had l e f t c i v i l i z a t i o n behind and entered a savage country of strange customs and i n e x p l i c a b l e c r u e l t i e s : a country i n which I was a f o r e i g n e r and a suspect, q u i t e l i t e r a l l y a hunted c r e a t u r e . . . .9 His n o v e l s are e s s e n t i a l l y e x p l o r a t i o n s of h i s c h i l d h o o d world, which focus on the unconscious f e a r s , dreams and symbols t h a t tormented and obsessed Greene as a c h i l d and as an a d u l t . L i k e E l i o t , and perhaps l i k e a l l c r e a t i v e a r t i s t s , Greene attempts through h i s a r t to r e t u r n t o h i s beginning i n order to accept i t and understand i t , and so to l e a r n a p e r s o n a l and perhaps u n i v e r s a l t r u t h from h i s own torments. Herbert Marcuse d e s c r i b e s a process which takes p l a c e i n a r t as 'the r e t u r n of the r e p r e s s e d ' ; i n Greene's f i c t i o n the unconscious dredge plunges and hauls c o n t i n u a l l y from one book t o the next, as he t r a c e s from h i s own sources and p e r s o n a l myths a p i c t u r e of the modern world which o f t e n r i n g s deep and t r u e . He w r i t e s out of " . . . a d e s i r e t o reduce a chaos of experience t o some s o r t of o r d e r . . . a n d perhaps one sees, through the frameworks, s t r u c t u r e s and s k e l e t o n s of h i s f i c t i o n a l c r e a t i o n s the e s s e n t i a l movement of t w e n t i e t h century a r t — the search f o r o n e s e l f . Only by remaining t r u e t o o n e s e l f , t o one's own response t o the ever-changing world around one can the author c r e a t e genuine a r t , which goes beyond dogma and creed. In an essay e n t i t l e d "The V i r t u e of D i s l o y a l t y " , Greene w r i t e s about 85 the n e c e s s i t y of being t r u e t o the deepest p a r t of one's being i f one i s t o be a g r e a t a r t i s t , even i f t h i s means being ' d i s l o y a l ' t o one's country, one's r e l i g i o n , or one's ou t e r s e l f : I s n ' t i t the s t o r y t e l l e r ' s task t o a c t as the d e v i l ' s advocate, t o e l i c i t sympathy and a measure of understanding f o r those who l i e o u t s i d e the boundaries of s t a t e approval? I f o n l y w r i t e r s c o u l d m a i n t a i n t h a t one v i r t u e o f d i s l o y a l t y -- f o r them more important than c h a r i t y -- unspotted from the world . . . . I f they don't become l o y a l t o a church or a country, they are apt to become l o y a l t o some invented i d e o l o g y of t h e i r own, u n t i l they are p r a i s e d f o r c o n s i s t e n c y , although the w r i t e r should always be ready t o change s i d e s a t the drop of a hat. He stands f o r the v i c t i m s and the v i c t i m s change. L o y a l t y c o n f i n e s you t o accepted o p i n i o n s ; l o y a l t y f o r b i d s you t o comprehend sympath-e t i c a l l y your d i s s i d e n t f e l l o w s ; but d i s -l o y a l t y encourages you to roam through any human mind: i t g i v e s the n o v e l i s t an e x t r a dimension of understanding . 1 Greene, perhaps the most widely t r a v e l l e d of a l l modern B r i t i s h authors, f e l t a s t r o n g a t t r a c t i o n towards p r i m i t i v e c o u n t r i e s : i n the depths of Mexico, A f r i c a and East A s i a he f e l t c l o s e t o the pr i m e v a l heart of man, c l o s e r t o the p a s s i o n and everpresent sense of e v i l t h a t he p e r c e i v e d at the core of humanity, and once there he f e l t he c o u l d observe human nature u n d i s g u i s e d by the f a l s e veneer of c i v i l i z a t i o n . In Journey Without Maps he w r i t e s of h i s journey i n t o the he a r t of A f r i c a , and i n t o the heart of mankind: 86 T h i s journey, i f i t had done nothi n g e l s e , had r e i n f o r c e d a sense of disappointment w i t h what man had made out of the p r i m i -t i v e , what he had made out of c h i l d h o o d . Oh, one wanted t o p r o t e s t , one doesn't b e l i e v e , of course, i n 'the v i s i o n a r y gleam', i n the t r a i l i n g g l o r y , but t h e r e was something i n t h a t e a r l y t e r r o r and the bareness of one's needs, a harp strum-ming behind a hut, a w i t c h on the n u r s e r y l a n d i n g , a handful of k o l a nuts, a masked dancer, the poisoned f l o w e r s . The sense of t e r r o r deeper and p u r e r . Perhaps one can t r y , as Greene d i d w i t h Henry James, " . . . t o t r a c k the i n s t i n c t i v e , the p o e t i c w r i t e r back to 13 the source of h i s f a n t a s i e s . " "In a l l w r i t e r s " , Greene wrote i n an essay on Henry James, " . . . there occurs a moment of c r y s t a l l i z a t i o n when the dominant theme i s p l a i n l y expressed, when the p r i v a t e u n i v e r s e becomes v i s i b l e even to 14 the l e a s t s e n s i t i v e reader." Greene's moment of c r y s t a l l i z a -t i o n came i n c h i l d h o o d , immediately upon r e a d i n g M a r j o r i e Bowen's The V i p e r of M i l a n : . . . she had g i v e n me my p a t t e r n — r e l i g i o n " might l a t e r e x p l a i n i t t o me i n other terms, but the p a t t e r n was a l r e a d y t h e r e -- p e r f e c t e v i l walking where per-f e c t good can never walk again, and o n l y the pendulum ensures t h a t a f t e r a l l i n the end j u s t i c e i s done. So one begins t o see h i s adoption of the C a t h o l i c r e l i g i o n not o n l y as an attempt t o d e f i n e and support h i s i n s t i n c t u a l v i s i o n of l i f e , but a l s o as a means of r e t u r n i n g to the world of c h i l d h o o d , s i n c e r e l i g i o n r e c r e a t e s the t e r r o r , the a n x i e t y and excitement, and the sense of e v i l w i t h i n a l a r g e r , more r i t u a l i s t i c and symbolic framework. Greene's novels are f a r 87 more about h i s own f e a r s and f a n t a s i e s than about t w e n t i e t h century l i f e and r e l i g i o n , as Greene i m p l i e s of Henry James i n t a l k i n g about " . . . the source of James 1 p a s s i o n a t e 16 d i s t r u s t i n human nature, h i s sense of e v i l . . .": I t i s t r u e t h a t the moral anarchy o f the age gave him h i s m a t e r i a l , but he would not have t r e a t e d i t w i t h such i n t e n s i t y i f i t had not corresponded w i t h h i s p r i v a t e f a n t a s y . H i s c h a r a c t e r s a l s o seem f a r more at home, or perhaps l e s s out of p l a c e , s i n c e Greene's c h a r a c t e r s never r e a l l y seem t o be at home, i n the o p p r e s s i v e t r o p i c s than i n the modern Western world, s i n c e the non-white world i s another o b j e c t i v e c o r r e l a t i v e f o r the ominous and f e a r f u l world Greene d i s -covered as a c h i l d and h i s been t r y i n g t o s u r v i v e i n ever s i n c e . Even when h i s books are s e t i n s i d e modern urban s o c i e t y — the gaudy B r i g h t o n of B r i g h t o n Rock, the bomb-splintered London of The End of the A f f a i r — they s t i l l p u l s e w i t h the p r i m i t i v e p a s s i o n s of the j u n g l e , and one soon r e a l i z e s t h a t l i f e everywhere i s a j u n g l e f o r Graham Greene. The Mexico o f The Power and the Gl o r y i s a world of c a r r i o n , d i v i d e d between the v u l t u r e s and the sharks. I t i s a world of the dead and the dying, and on the s u r f a c e at l e a s t an u n m i t i -gated v i s i o n of d e s p a i r . The f i r s t paragraph, which focuses on Mr. Tench, the e x i l e d E n g l i s h d e n t i s t a t the P o r t , immedi-a t e l y s e t s the tone of the whole n a r r a t i v e : Mr. Tench went out t o look f o r h i s ether c y l i n d e r , i n t o the b l a z i n g Mexican sun and the b l e a c h i n g dust. A few v u l t u r e s 88 looked down from the r o o f w i t h shabby i n d i f f e r e n c e : he wasn't c a r r i o n y e t . A f a i n t f e e l i n g of r e b e l l i o n s t i r r e d i n Mr. Tench's h e a r t , and he wrenched up a p i e c e of the road w i t h s p l i n t e r i n g f i n g e r -n a i l s and t o s s e d i t f e e b l y towards them. One rose and f l a p p e d across the town: over the t i n y p l a z a , over the bust of the e x - p r e s i d e n t , e x - g e n e r a l , ex-human bein g , over the two s t a l l s which s o l d m i n e r a l water, towards the r i v e r and the sea. I t wouldn't f i n d anything t h e r e : the sharks.. looked a f t e r the c a r r i o n on t h a t s i d e . I t i s a world where man i s i n s i g n i f i c a n t and more than a l i t t l e absurd, where the environment i s a c t i v e l y h o s t i l e , o p p r e s s i v e and mind-numbing. Fate hangs l i k e an ominous c l o u d over t h i s n o v e l ; the c h a r a c t e r s are trapped i n a l i f e they long t o escape from but cannot. Tench h i m s e l f has un-w i t t i n g l y committed h i m s e l f t o an i r r e v o c a b l e f u t u r e by p l a y i n g w i t h an o l d d i s c a r d e d t o o t h - c a s t as a c h i l d . "They 19 had t r i e d t o tempt him w i t h Meccano, but f a t e had s t r u c k . " For Greene a man's u l t i m a t e f a t e can o f t e n be t r a c e d t o one seemingly t r i v i a l c h i l d h o o d a c t : There i s always one moment i n c h i l d h o o d when the door opens and l e t s the f u t u r e i n . The hot wet r i v e r - p o r t and the v u l t u r e s l a y i n the wastepaper basket, and he p i c k e d them out. We should be t h a n k f u l we cannot see the h o r r o r s and degradations l y i n g around our c h i l d h o o d , i n the cupboards and bookshelves, everywhere. In A S o r t of L i f e Greene again reminds us t h a t e v e r y t h i n g we w i l l be s p r i n g s from our c h i l d h o o d world. He w r i t e s of h i s own f u t u r e : " I f I had known i t , the whole f u t u r e must have l a 21 a l l the time along those Berkhampsted s t r e e t s . . . ." 89 The whiskey p r i e s t , the c e n t r a l f i g u r e of The Power and  the G l o r y , i s i n t r o d u c e d almost i n c i d e n t a l l y , and o n l y gradu-a l l y does the reader r e a l i z e t h a t he i s a p r i e s t on the run i n a s t a t e where the C a t h o l i c Church has been o f f i c i a l l y outlawed. He i s an unprepossessing f i g u r e , s m a l l and nervous, w i t h a r a t h e r i r r i t a t i n g g i g g l e , and badly r o t t i n g t e e t h . "He gave an impression of u n s t a b l e h i l a r i t y , as i f perhaps 22 he had been c e l e b r a t i n g a b i r t h d a y . . . alone." The p r i e s t has come to the r i v e r p o r t i n the hope of t a k i n g the steamer General Obregon up the c o a s t to Vera Cruz where he w i l l be s a f e , but f a t e has him as f i r m l y snared as a l l the o t h e r s . A Mexican c h i l d comes f o r him so t h a t the p r i e s t can g i v e a b s o l u t i o n t o the c h i l d ' s d ying mother. The p r i e s t cannot r e f u s e . "He s a i d s a d l y , ' I t always seems to happen. L i k e 23 t h i s ' . " He can see the long arm of f a t e s t e e r i n g him back i n t o the f o r e s t , where he has spent so many years moving from one poor ' v i l l a g e t o another a v o i d i n g the a u t h o r i t i e s , away from the w a i t i n g boat which i s h i s o n l y means of escape. "'I s h a l l miss i t ' , he s a i d , "I am meant to miss i t ' . He 24 was shaken by a t i n y rage." As the p r i e s t f o l l o w s the c h i l d back i n t o the j u n g l e a t the end of Chapter One, he prays t h a t he w i l l be caught soon, so t h a t the suspense and t e r r o r w i l l end. Yet he i s harnessed to a purpose l a r g e r than h i m s e l f , an 1 .unwilling martyr who must go on and on u n t i l t h a t purpose has been f u l f i l l e d . "He had t r i e d t o escape, but he was l i k e 90 the King of a West A f r i c a n t r i b e , the s l a v e of h i s people, 25 who may not even l i e down i n case the winds should f a i l . " Greene makes c l e a r t h a t The Power and the G l o r y was d i f f e r e n t from h i s other novels i n t h a t i t was w r i t t e n , as has been noted a l r e a d y , 'to a t h e s i s ' — t o a f o r e o r d a i n e d p l a n , a c e n t r a l g u i d i n g i d e a , which Greene was never so c o n s c i o u s l y aware of at the s t a r t of h i s other n o v e l s . To quote a g a i n : I t h i n k The Power and the G l o r y was the on l y n o v e l I have w r i t t e n to a t h e s i s : i n The Heart o f the Matter Wilson s a t on a balcony i n Freetown watching Scobie pass by i n the s t r e e t long before I was aware of Scobie's problem -- h i s c o r r u p -t i o n by p i t y . But I had always, even when I was a s c h o o l -boy, l i s t e n e d w i t h impatience t o the scandalous s t o r i e s of t o u r i s t s concerning the p r i e s t s they had encountered i n remote L a t i n v i l l a g e s ( t h i s p r i e s t had a m i s t r e s s , another was c o n s t a n t l y drunk), f o r I had been adequately taught i n my P r o t e s t a n t h i s t o r y books what C a t h o l i c s b e l i e v e d ; I c o u l d d i s t i n g u i s h even then between the man and h i s o f f i c e . Now, many years l a t e r , as a C a t h o l i c i n Mexico, I read and l i s t e n e d t o s t o r i e s of c o r r u p t i o n which were s a i d t o have j u s t i r -f i e d the p e r s e c u t i o n of the Church under C a l l e s and Cardenas, but I had a l s o observed f o r myself how courage and the sense of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y had r e v i v e d w i t h p e r s e c u t i o n — I had seen the d e v o t i o n of peasants p r a y i n g i n the p r i e s t l e s s churches and I had attended masses i n upper rooms where the sanctus b e l l c o u l d not sound f o r f e a r of the p o l i c e . Our f i r s t impression of the p r i e s t , however, i s one of a p i t i f u l tramp, who exudes death and decay. For Tench the 91 d e n t i s t , " . . . the man's dark s u i t and s l o p i n g shoulders reminded him uncomfortably of a c o f f i n , and death was i n h i s 27 c a r i o u s mouth a l r e a d y . " He i s another of Greene's o u t s i d e r s , but t h i s time he r e p r e s e n t s a f o r c e g r e a t e r than h i s own weak and f e a r f u l person. He wears h i s p r i e s t h o o d ' l i k e a b i r t h -mark', unable t o renounce h i s r o l e because i t i s beyond h i s power t o do so. He has a c u r i o u s h a b i t of speaking o b l i q u e l y , so t h a t a seemingly offhand remark r e v e a l s a h e a r t f e l t b e l i e f . Always conscious of the i r o n y o f h i s p o s i t i o n , the whiskey p r i e s t fences throughout the novel i n the attempt t o d i s g u i s e h i s i d e n t i t y t o others y e t t o remind h i m s e l f c o n t i n u a l l y of i t . As Tench and the p r i e s t stand i d l y on the dock, Tench asks: 'You a d o c t o r ? ' The bloodshot eyes looked s l y l y out of t h e i r c o r n e r s a t Mr. Tench. 'You would c a l l me perhaps a — quack?' 'Patent medicines? L i v e and l e t l i v e ' , Mr. Tench s a i d . As a quack stands i n r e l a t i o n t o a d o c t o r , so a whiskey p r i e s t stands i n r e l a t i o n t o the p i e t y and s e l f - d e n i a l o f a r e a l p r i e s t — a d o c t o r of the s o u l ; y e t i t i s because the whiskey p r i e s t i s weak, and i s humble and f e a r f u l i n h i s weakness, t h a t h i s s t r u g g l e t o f o l l o w h i s conscience i s so g r i p p i n g . His heroism l i e s i n t h a t very weakness, and i n the f i n a l uneasy v i c t o r y over h i s human f r a i l t y . He becomes an i n d i v i d u a l r a t h e r than a v i c t i m , as so many of Greene's e a r l i e r p r o t a g o n i s t s are, not onl y because he e v e n t u a l l y chooses 92 h i s own f a t e , but u l t i m a t e l y because he r e f u s e s t o see him-s e l f as the v i c t i m of a f a t a l i s t i c u n i v e r s e : he has a purpose, a meaning, even though he i s a l l too aware of h i s own a b s u r d i t y . The whiskey p r i e s t ' s c h i e f opponent i s the p o l i c e l i e u -tenant a t the s t a t e ' s c a p i t a l . He i s e v e r y t h i n g the p r i e s t i s not — neat, a s c e t i c , c h a s t e : indeed he seems t o be much more l i k e the st e r e o t y p e o f a p r i e s t than the p r i e s t h i m s e l f . J u s t as the whiskey;: p r i e s t f e e l s shackled t o h i s o f t e n u n c a r i n g p a r i s h i o n e r s , so the l i e u t e n a n t i s chained t o h i s men and t o h i s c h i e f , contemptuous as he i s towards them. He has nothing but d i s t a s t e f o r h i s f e l l o w s , y e t he i s i n e v i t a b l y l i n k e d w i t h them, a g a i n s t h i s w i l l . They are both l o n e r s ; the l i e u t e n a n t by c h o i c e , the p r i e s t by n e c e s s i t y : and they both stand out from the r e s t of the d e s p a i r i n g crowd because of the f a i t h they have i n t h e i r p a r t i c u l a r v i s i o n . The l i e u t e n a n t i s a f a s c i s t , but a f a s c i s t w i t h an e x t r a o r d i n a r y l o v e f o r h i s people. He wants so much f o r them o t be happy and w e l l p r o v i d e d f o r t h a t p a r a d o x i c a l l y he w i l l k i l l them t o a t t a i n t h i s end. When h i s drunken b i l l i a r d - p l a y i n g c h i e f informs him of the n e c e s s i t y of c a p t u r -i n g the p r i e s t , who i s ap p a r e n t l y the o n l y one l e f t i n the whole s t a t e , h i s whole being t h r i l l s . I t g i v e s him a purpose, something b e t t e r t o do than s t r u t t i n g about the d e c r e p i t s t r e e t s and j a i l i n g drunken peasants on Saturday n i g h t s , f o r above a l l , he i s a man of purpose. But we must go back t o the l i e u t e n a n t ' s c h i l d h o o d to f i n d h i s r e a l reason f o r want-ing t o get r i d of the l a s t p r i e s t . He looks a t an o l d photo of the p r i e s t : Something you could almost have c a l l e d h o r r o r moved him when he looked a t the white m u s l i n dresses -- he remembered the smell of incense i n the churches of h i s boyhood, the candles and the l a c i n e s s and the s e l f - e s t e e m , the immense demands made from the a l t a r - s t e p s by men who d i d n ' t know the meaning of s a c r i f i c e . The o l d peasants k n e l t t h e r e b e f o r e the h o l y image w i t h t h e i r arms h e l d out i n the a t t i t u d e of the c r o s s : t i r e d by the long day's labour i n the p l a n t a t i o n s they squeezed out a f u r t h e r m o r t i f i c a t i o n . To the l i e u t e n a n t the p r i e s t s are a d i s e a s e t h a t must be wiped out. He sees h i m s e l f as a r e a l i s t , and to him l i f e i s a matter of economics. The l i f e of the s p i r i t i s meaningless to him, so he sees r e l i g i o n as something u s e l e s s and c o s t l y t h a t robs the poor while the c l e r g y grows f a t and r i c h . In h i s own way, he too i s a p r i e s t , but a p r i e s t of emptiness, o f n e g a t i o n . He denies the r i g h t of the peasants t o a r e l i g i o u s l i f e , y e t he wants to teach the c h i l d r e n h i s own a r i d a t h e i s t i c c r e e d : He was a m y s t i c , too, and what he had experienced was vacancy — a complete c e r t a i n t y i n the e x i s t e n c e of a dying, c o o l i n g world, o f human beings who had evolved from animals f o r no purpose a t a l l . He knew. The l i e u t e n a n t ' s v i s i o n i s one of a n n i h i l a t i o n ; s u f f e r i n g as a c h i l d made him want to wipe out the f o r c e s t h a t guided and r u l e d h i s c h i l d h o o d . "He wanted t o d e s t r o y e v e r y t h i n g : t o be 94 31 alone without any memories at a l l . " And t h i s hollow, l o v e -l e s s , n e g a t i v e world i s the one he wants t o pass on t o the c h i l d r e n of h i s s t a t e . By keeping both the whiskey p r i e s t and h i s opponent the l i e u t e n a n t nameless, Greene seems to be suggesting t h a t The  Power and the G l o r y i s more than a p s y c h o l o g i c a l , t a u t l y r e a l i s t i c n o v e l : i t i s on another l e v e l an a l l e g o r y -- a p a r a b l e . Seen i n t h i s way, the n o v e l i s b a s i c a l l y an argument between the m a t e r i a l i s t i c and r e l i g i o u s worlds, i n which Greene t r i e s t o balance the c h a r a c t e r of the l i e u t e n a n t , the r e p r e -s e n t a t i v e of the a t h e i s t i c , m a t e r i a l i s t i c world, a g a i n s t the whiskey p r i e s t , who cares l e s s f o r the s o c i a l advancement of the peasants than .for t h e i r s p i r i t u a l involvement. And y e t Greene has t o some extent r e v e r s e d the t y p i c a l r o l e s , s i n c e seemingly the pious i d e a l i s m belongs t o the l i e u t e n a n t and the c o r r u p t i o n and decay to the p r i e s t . In a r e v e a l i n g sentence from Greene's a u t o b i o g r a p h i c a l i n t r o d u c t i o n t o the C o l l e c t e d Works e d i t i o n of The Power and the G l o r y , Greene w r i t e s of the l i e u t e n a n t : I had not found the i n t e g r i t y of the l i e u t e n a n t among the p o l i c e and p i s t o l e r o s I had encountered — I had t o i n v e n t him as a counter to the f a i l e d p r i e s t the i d e a l -i s t i c p o l i c e o f f i c e r who s t i f l e d l i f e from the best p o s s i b l e motives: the drunken p r i e s t who continued to pass l i f e on. In t h i s p a r a d o x i c a l statement l i e s the e s s e n t i a l core of the n o v e l : f a i t h , no matter how f a u l t y , however i n e f f e c t u a l l y g iven and r e c e i v e d , b r i n g s l i f e , w hile n i h i l i s m , no matter how w e l l d i s g u i s e d i n ideas of pr o g r e s s and p r o s p e r i t y , b r i n g s death. Greene r e v e r s e s the u s u a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of h i s two main c h a r a c t e r s f o r two reasons: t o emphasize the dramatic p o s s i b i l i t i e s of the paradox, and most i m p o r t a n t l y , t o d i s -t i n g u i s h between the man and h i s o f f i c e . To Greene a t t h i s stage i n h i s c a r e e r as a n o v e l i s t the i n d i v i d u a l man means onl y as much as the f o r c e o r p h i l o s o p h y he upholds. The l i e u t e n a n t , although Greene d e s c r i b e s him as e s s e n t i a l l y a 'good' i d e a l -i s t i c man, i s a l l i e d t o the f o r c e s of r e p r e s s i o n ; h i s 'good-ness' as an i n d i v i d u a l i s p e r v e r t e d t o e v i l because h i s s t r e n g t h i s c h a n n e l l e d by an e v i l f o r c e . In a s i m i l a r way, the whiskey p r i e s t ' s weakness i s turned t o f i n a l s t r e n g t h by the power of s a l v a t i o n whose r e p r e s e n t a t i v e he i s . Greene's b e l i e f t h a t a man's s t r e n g t h or weakness can be r e v e r s e d by h i s a l l i a n c e w i t h a p a r t i c u l a r p h ilosophy of l i v i n g i s d r a m a t i c a l l y represented i n the n o v e l by the gradual weakening of the l i e u t e n a n t ' s i d e a l i s m and s t r e n g t h i n almost p e r f e c t l y i n v e r s e p r o p o r t i o n t o the r i s e of the p r i e s t ' s s t r e n g t h and f a i t h . Between the two p o l a r i t i e s of the l i e u t e n a n t and the: p r i e s t are what Greene c a l l s the bystanders, those who, l i k e the gr e a t m a j o r i t y of mankind, l i v e on the edge of t h i n g s , u n i n v o l v e d i n the drama of l i v i n g . Being u n i n v o l v e d , they are empty, scarecrow f i g u r e s , abandoned and f r i g h t e n e d by t h e i r own shadows i n an a l i e n and menacing world. Tench the d e n t i s t i s the f i r s t one of these — l i k e Minty i n England Made Me, or l i k e Scobie i n The Heart of the Matter, he i s an e x i l e d Englishman, trapped i n a country he cannot understand, unable to get out. He t r i e s t o take some p r i d e i n h i s p r o f e s s i o n , but the heat and emptiness c o n s p i r e a g a i n s t 3 3 him. "'A man must t r y t o deep abreast of t h i n g s ' " , he says, but even t h a t statement i s too much of an e f f o r t . "His mouth f e l l open: the look of vacancy r e t u r n e d : the heat i n the sma l l room was overpowering. He stood t h e r e l i k e a man l o s t i n a cavern among the f o s s i l s and instruments of an age of which 34 he knows v e r y l i t t l e . " When the monthly boat p u l l s away from the harbour w i t h h i s ether c y l i n d e r s t i l l on board, he shouts once and f o r g e t s about i t : " . . . a l i t t l e a d d i t i o n a l p a i n 3 5 was h a r d l y n o t i c e a b l e m the huge abandonment." Then t h e r e i s the Mexican f a m i l y , abandoned by t h e i r Church, and unable to p r a c t i s e the r e l i g i o n which i s the o n l y t h i n g t h a t l i f t s them above the drudgery of t h e i r everyday e x i s t e n c e . "She s a i d , 'I would r a t h e r d i e ' . 'Oh', he s a i d , 'of course. 3 6 That goes without s a y i n g . But we have to go on l i v i n g ' . " Padre Jose i s an o l d p r i e s t who has renounced h i s f a i t h and has accepted a government pension r a t h e r than face a f i r i n g squad. He i s f o r c i b l y m a r r i ed t o h i s o l d housekeeper, and i s the laugh-i n g - s t o c k of the v i l l a g e . H i s s e l f - r e s p e c t s h a t t e r e d , h i s mind burning w i t h an e v e r - p r e s e n t sense of s i n and shame, he i s an image of pure d e s p a i r . Fat and impotent, he knows he blasphemes a g a i n s t the h o l y sacrament of marriage, w h i l e h i s l i f e i t s e l f i s the embodiment of s a c r i l e g e t o the sacred o f f i c e of the 97 p r i e s t h o o d . He t h i n k s of h i m s e l f as: " . . . an obscene 37 p i c t u r e hung here every day t o c o r r u p t c h i l d r e n w i t h . " The v i l l a g e c h i l d r e n mock him day and n i g h t : T h e i r l i t t l e shameless v o i c e s f i l l e d the p a t i o , and he smiled humbly and sketched s m a l l gestures f o r s i l e n c e , and there was no r e s p e c t anywhere l e f t f o r him i n h i s home, i n the town, i n the whole abandoned s t a r . 3 8 Perhaps the most important of the bystanders are the F e l l o w s , an E n g l i s h f a m i l y who own a p l a n t a t i o n many mi l e s up the r i v e r from the nameless, seedy p o r t . They t y p i f y Greene's abandoned t r o p i c a l s e t t l e r s , who a r r i v e f u l l of h o p e f u l dreams — a new l a n d , a new l i f e — and end up s l o w l y and d e s p a i r i n g l y r o t t i n g i n t o the dank s o i l , doomed always to be f o r e i g n e r s . Mrs. F e l l o w s i s e s s e n t i a l l y the same c h a r a c t e r as the l a t e r Mrs. Scobie, s e l f - p i t y i n g , demanding, and f r i g h t e n e d to the core of her being by t h i s g r a d u a l b u r i a l i n the h e a r t of nowhere. T e r r o r was always j u s t behind her shoulder: she was wasted by the e f f o r t of not t u r n -i n g round. She dressed up her f e a r , so t h a t she c o u l d look at i t -- i n the form of r a t s , f e v e r , unemployment. The r e a l t h i n g was taboo — death coming nearer every year i n t h i s strange p l a c e : everybody packing up and l e a v i n g , w h i l e she stayed i n a cemetery no one v i s i t e d , i n a b i g above-ground tomb. Captain F e l l o w s , h i s h e a r t y , b o i s t e r o u s d i s g u i s e f a i l i n g t o hide h i s d e s p a i r i n g i n e f f e c t u a l i t y , t r i e s v a i n l y , l i k e Scobie, to s h i e l d h i s w i f e from the emptiness of t h e i r l i v e s ; l i k e Scobie a l s o , he i s a t t a c h e d t o h i s w i f e by a f a r more desperate bond than love — t h a t of p i t y . " ' I t ' s not such a bad l i f e , T r i x y . Is i t now? Not a bad l i f e ? ' But he c o u l d f e e l her s t i f f e n : 98 40 the word ' l i f e ' was taboo: i t reminded you death." The F e l l o w s are trapped by f a t e , unable t o come to any d e c i s i o n about t h e i r l i v e s , which grow more barren by the year. Only t h e i r daughter C o r a l has enough in n e r s t r e n g t h to s u r v i v e , and she l i t e r a l l y keeps her parents a l i v e by her own b r i g h t w i l l to l i v e . Yet even she i s not i n v u l n e r a b l e t o the d e s t r u c t i v e f o r c e s i n l i f e . " L i f e hadn't got to her y e t ; she had a f a l s e 41 a i r of i m p r e g n a b i l i t y . " S t i l l she i s not y e t one of the by-st a n d e r s , who have a l l u n i f o r m l y g i v e n up on l i f e . I t i s t h i s u b i q u i t o u s sense of d e f e a t t h a t separates the bystanders from the l i e u t e n a n t and the whiskey p r i e s t . In f a c t the whole n o v e l can be seen as a t r e a t i s e on hope and d e s p a i r . Despair takes over when one has no r e a l purpose i n l i v i n g , when one j u s t l i v e s t o s u r v i v e , without hope or d i r e c t i o n . The l i e u t e n -ant and the p r i e s t are not of the d e s p a i r i n g because they are committed; they have a purpose to f u l f i l l and a sense of duty to t h e i r own c o n s c i e n c e . Hope, however, can o n l y a r i s e when man i s committed t o the i n e x h a u s t a b l e power of l i f e r a t h e r than the f i n a l r i g i d i t y of death — the c e n t r a l d i s t i n c t i o n between the p r i e s t and the l i e u t e n a n t . Greene w r i t e s : "Hope i s an i n s t i n c t o n l y the reason-42 i n g human mind can k i l l . An animal never knows d e s p a i r . " As the p r i e s t makes h i s dark journey from harmful complacent innocence t o a 'corrupt' compassion, he begins to r e a l i z e t h a t ; the one t h i n g t h a t shuts out God's lo v e i s the k i n d of e g o t i s -t i c a l r i g i d i t y behind p i e t y . "God might f o r g i v e cowardice and 99 p a s s i o n , but was i t p o s s i b l e t o f o r g i v e the h a b i t of p i e t y ? S a l v a t i o n c o u l d s t r i k e l i k e l i g h t n i n g a t the e v i l h e a r t , but the 43 h a b i t of p i e t y excluded e v e r y t h i n g . . . . " The p r i e s t ' s f i n a l commitment i s towards l i f e , even though i r o n i c a l l y he must d i e to b r i n g t h i s about. He r e a l i z e s t h a t d e s p a i r i s u l -t i m a t e l y an avoidance of l i f e and hope. One begins t o see t h a t the eve r - p r e s e n t sense of f a t a l i s m i n Greene's world i s a t l e a s t p a r t i a l l y s elf-imposed by the c h a r a c t e r s w i t h i n t h i s world. L i k e Joe Christmas i n Faul k n e r ' s L i g h t i n August, Greene's c h a r a c t e r s p r o j e c t t h e i r own f u t i l i t y and p a r a l y s i s onto the world around them and f e e l t h a t t h e i r own sense of entrapment d e f i n e s the nature of the u n i v e r s e . However, wh i l e Greene's world i s undeniably harsh, he c o n t i n u a l l y searches i n h i s novels f o r a chin k i n fateTs armour, an opening where lo v e and acceptance can s i f t i n t o the tormented i n n e r machinery of the f o r t r e s s . Greene i s perhaps best known f o r h i s d r a m a t i z a t i o n s of man's f a i l u r e t o l i v e , h i s c h a r a c t e r s ' f e a r of l i f e i t s e l f — one t h i n k s of P i n k i e ' s t e r r o r o f the Beast, which i s hope and l o v e , t h a t t h r e a t e n s t o break the g l a s s of h i s s p l i n t e r i n g b i t t e r n e s s — y e t one of Greene's gr e a t concerns i s the search f o r i n n e r freedom, which when found can g i v e man the s t r e n g t h t o stand up t o h i s f a t e , t o a c t out of p r i n c i p l e r a t h e r than t e r r o r . As M a r i e - B e a t r i c e Mesnet w r i t e s : We are c o n d i t i o n e d by our environment, our past our nature t o o, but we can assume them, being s i m u l t a n e o u s l y immanent and t r a n s -cendent t o h i s t o r y . Our a t t i t u d e must be one of commitment, by which we accept t o 100 face our p r e s e n t , w h i l e assuming our past and p r e p a r i n g our f u t u r e . . . U n t i l we are t r u l y a t t e n t i v e t o the inn e r c r i t i c (and t h i s c a l l s f o r courage), we do not r e a l l y e x i s t . . . Greene r e v e a l s w i t h com-p a s s i o n the world of those who seem unable to stand o u t s i d e the p l o t . His sympathy goes out to the most m i s e r a b l e of men, so weak t h a t they cannot apply t h e i r w i l l t o f r e e the 'inward man' i n them, those who are caught i n the mud. 4 4 The whiskey p r i e s t fig&ts throughout the book t o f r e e t h i s ' i n -ward man' t h a t l i e s w i t h i n him. Obsessed by h i s own c o r r u p t i o n , by the presence of e v i l everywhere . . a v i r t u o u s man can almost cease t o b e l i e v e i n H e l l , but he c a r r i e d H e l l about w i t h him. Sometimes at n i g h t he dreamed of i t . . . E v i l ran l i k e 45 m a l a r i a i n h i s v e i n s . . . " — he shares what R. W. B. Lewis c a l l s a ' t r a g i c f e l l o w s h i p ' w i t h the r e j e c t e d and the o u t c a s t , and i s d e s p e r a t e l y aware of man's need f o r a s p i r i t u a l l i f e . Many times as he wanders from v i l l a g e t o v i l l a g e the whiskey p r i e s t i s tempted t o leave the s t a t e , t o go back t o the compla-cent pious p r i e s t h o o d a c r o s s the border, but t o do so would be t o d e p r i v e h i s f u t u r e e x i s t e n c e of that:meaning w i t h which h i s pr e s e n t , however te n u o u s l y , i s i n v e s t e d . When he was gone i t would be as i f God i n a l l t h i s space between the sea and the mountains ceased t o e x i s t . Wasn't i t h i s duty t o sta y , even i f they d e s p i s e d him, even i f they were murdered f o r h i s sake? Even i f they were c o r r u p t e d by h i s example? The whiskey p r i e s t seeks not f o r p h y s i c a l s u r v i v a l but f o r the s u r v i v a l o f the human s p i r i t i n a d e s p a i r i n g wasteland. In h i s book The Picaresque S a i n t , R. W. B. Lewis speaks of a new k i n d of hero emerging i n the second g e n e r a t i o n l i t e r a t u r e of 101 the t w e n t i e t h century, a hero much l i k e Greene's c o r r u p t p r i e s t . He w r i t e s : In the second g e n e r a t i o n . . . the hero has tended t o be an a p p r e n t i c e s a i n t or a s a i n t manque . . . the f i c t i o n a l s a i n t s of the second g e n e r a t i o n f i c t i o n are men de d i c a t e d not so much, or not immediately, t o a s u p e r n a t u r a l God as t o what y e t r e -mains of the sacred i n the ravaged human community. In P a r t Two of The Power and the G l o r y the p r i e s t r e t u r n s t o h i s home v i l l a g e a f t e r s i x years of wandering. I t i s here t h a t " . . . f i v e years ago he had giv e n way to d e s p a i r — the u n f o r g i v a b l e s i n — and he was going back now to the scene of h i s d e s p a i r w i t h a c u r i o u s l i g h t e n i n g of the h e a r t . For 48 he had got over d e s p a i r too." F i v e years ago, i n a moment of weakness, drunk on sacramental wine, the p r i e s t had had i n t e r c o u r s e with one of the v i l l a g e women who subsequently bore h i s c h i l d . H is daughter B r i g i t t a , " . . . sharpened by hunger i n t o an appearance of d e v i l t r y and ma l i c e beyond her 49 age . . . " i s a l i v i n g witness t o h i s f a l l , y e t the p r i e s t l o v es her with an e x c r u c i a t i n g l y p a i n f u l f o r c e . Despair and lo v e , however, are not a l l he has to f a c e : I t was as i f he had descended by means of h i s s i n i n t o the human s t r u g g l e t o l e a r n other t h i n g s besides d e s p a i r and l o v e , t h a t a man can be unwelcome even i n h i s own home. Threatened by r e p r i s a l s from the l i e u t e n a n t , even the p r i e s t ' s own people r e j e c t him, y e t he s t i l l remains aware of h i s duty as a p r i e s t . As the l i e u t e n a n t and h i s s o l d i e r s 102 c l o s e i n around the v i l l a g e , the p r i e s t attempts a h u r r i e d Mass, w h i l e t r y i n g t o e x p l a i n to h i s f r i g h t e n e d congregation t h a t s u f f e r i n g i s as i n t e g r a l a p a r t of l i f e as j o y . 'Pain i s p a r t of j o y 1 . . . . For a matter of seconds he f e l t an immense s a t i s f a c t i o n t h a t he c o u l d t a l k of s u f f e r i n g t o them without h y p o c r i s y — i t i s hard f o r the ^ sle e k and w e l l - f e d p r i e s t t o p r a i s e poverty. He eludes the l i e u t e n a n t and h i s men a t the v i l l a g e , even though " . . . a d e l u s i v e promise of peace tempted him . . . " t o d e c l a r e h i m s e l f t o the l i e u t e n a n t . He has been r e p r i e v e d once more, but the s t r a i n begins t o wear deeply. More and more the p r i e s t begins t o r e a l i z e t h a t h i s own wishes and d e s i r e s are secondary t o h i s duty t o God and h i s people. He p e r s o n a l l y does not want t o stay i n the s t a t e , and the peasants, f e a r i n g the l i e u t e n a n t ' s vengeance, beg him t o l e a v e . x 'Don't you understand, Father? We don't want you anymore'. 'Oh yes', he s a i d . 'I understand. But i t ' s not what you want — or I want . . . .' He ga i n s a new h u m i l i t y , and although d e s p e r a t e l y aware of h i s own inadequacy he has a more profound sense of h i s commitment as a p r i e s t . At La C a n d e l l a r i a he runs i n t o the mestizo, or h a l f - b r e e d who w i l l u l t i m a t e l y be the instrument of h i s capture and death The h a l f - b r e e d immediately suspects t h a t he i s a p r i e s t , and f o l l o w s him wi t h the i d e a of in f o r m i n g on him and c l a i m i n g the reward money. At f i r s t the p r i e s t t r i e s t o a l l a y h i s own 103 s u s p i c i o n s of the ragged yellow-fanged mestizo — " . . . i t was the g e n e r a l c o n d i t i o n of l i f e t h a t made f o r s u s p i c i o n 54 . . . " — but he soon r e a l i z e s t h a t the man i s h i s Judas, h i s b e t r a y e r . E v e n t u a l l y he openly admits t o h i s p r i e s t h o o d , and accepts the onl y f u t u r e open t o him now — capture and death. As the p r i e s t moves i n e x o r a b l y c l o s e r t o h i s f i n a l d e s t i n y , he begins t o a p p r e c i a t e more deeply the mystery of the Redemption and t o r e a l i z e more a c u t e l y t h a t i n the D i v i n e p l a n of S a l v a t i o n a l l men are born t r u l y e q u al. C h r i s t had d i e d f o r t h i s man t o o : how c o u l d he pretend w i t h h i s p r i d e and l u s t and cowardice t o be any more worthy of t h a t death than t h i s h a l f - c a s t e ? T h i s man intended t o be t r a y him f o r money which he needed, and he had betrayed,.Pod f o r what? Not even f o r r e a l l u s t . J o u r n e y i n g through h i s dark n i g h t of the s o u l , the p r i e s t begins t o r e a l i z e the t r u e nature of the world, and the nature of the God he s e r v e s : How o f t e n the p r i e s t had heard the same c o n f e s s i o n . Man was so l i m i t e d he hadn't even the i n g e n u i t y t o i n v e n t a new v i c e : the animals knew as much. I t was f o r t h i s world t h a t C h r i s t had d i e d ; the more e v i l you saw and heard about you, the g r e a t e r g l o r y l a y around the death. I t was too easy t o d i e f o r what was good or b e a u t i f u l , f o r home or c h i l d r e n or a c i v i l i z a t i o n — i t needed a God to d i e f o r the h a l f - h e a r t e d and the c o r r u p t . With h i s acceptance of the nature of man, the p r i e s t slowly l e a r n s t h a t God i s not an a l i e n f i g u r e t h a t waits i n judgement f a r above man's world, as Scobie supposes, but a f o r c e , a q u a l i t y , w i t h i n man h i m s e l f : "God was the parent, but He was a l s o the policeman, the c r i m i n a l , the p r i e s t , the maniac, and 104 57 the judge." The p r i e s t a l s o c o n f r o n t s man's d e s i r e f o r chaos and d e s t r u c t i o n , and sees t h a t man's 'rage f o r chaos', t o use Morse Peckham's phrase, encompasses the need t o d e s t r o y the g o d l i k e q u a l i t y , the l i f e f o r c e , t h a t every man possesses: I t was odd, t h i s f u r y t o def a c e , because, of course, you c o u l d never deface enough. I f God had been l i k e a toad, you c o u l d have r i d the globe of toads, but when God was l i k e y o u r s e l f , i t was no good being con-t e n t w i t h stone f i g u r e s — you had to k i l l y o u r s e l f among the graves. 5° The whiskey p r i e s t i s the f i r s t of Greene's major f i g u r e s to r i s e above the d e s p a i r i n g sense of f a t a l i s m and v i c t i m i z a t i o n t h a t haunt Greene's e a r l i e r p r o t a g o n i s t s : he commits h i m s e l f to a cause because he cannot r e j e c t what he has l e a r n e d about the nature of man, of l i f e , and u l t i m a t e l y o f h i m s e l f . He be-comes an i n d i v i d u a l r a t h e r than a f a c e l e s s v i c t i m because, aware of h i s own i n s i g n i f i c a n c e and a b s u r d i t y , he can s t i l l accept l i f e i n a l l i t s t e r r o r and t r y t o communicate t o l i f e ' s other p r i s o n e r s the spark of hope t h a t they are unable t o see. Even though h i s commitment t o l i f e , hope and b e l i e f i r o n i c a l l y b r i n g about h i s death, he does not r e j e c t l i f e l i k e P i n k i e , Raven or even Scobie, but seeks t o i n t e n s i f y h i s union w i t h the t r u e world around him. As he l i e s i n the f o u l crowded p r i s o n c e l l a t the c a p i t a l , a r r e s t e d , i r o n i c a l l y enough, f o r i l l e g a l p o s s e s s i o n of l i q u o r , he sees about him the world i n microcosm: 105 . . . t h i s p l a c e was very l i k e the world elsewhere: people snatched a t causes of p l e a s u r e and p r i d e i n cramped and d i s a g r e e -a b l e surroundings: t h e r e was no time t o do anything worth doing, and always one dreamed of escape.59 Through h i s awareness, however, of h i s own c o r r u p t i o n and l o s s of innocence t h e r e gleams the beginnings of grace. In the p r i s o n yard he sees the hostages t h a t the l i e u t e n a n t has gathered, and prays, "'Oh God, send them someone more worth-w h i l e to s u f f e r f o r ' . I t seemed to him a damnable mockery t h a t they should s a c r i f i c e themselves f o r a whiskey p r i e s t w i t h 6 0 a b a s t a r d c h i l d . " Throughout the whiskey p r i e s t ' s o r d e a l s , Greene con s t a n t -l y compares the young, innocent but complacent p r i e s t as he was ten years p r e v i o u s l y w i t h the whiskey p r i e s t as he i s now, c o r -rupted, weak, unwanted. But now, through humble r e c o g n i t i o n of h i s own unworthiness, he has come t o l o v e humanity as he never d i d as a pious young man. In one of h i s many paradoxes Greene seems t o r e v e r s e Blake's concept of innocence and exper-i e n c e , showing t h a t innocence sometimes breeds e v i l and i n -humanity to man, while experience and i t s attendant s u f f e r i n g can b r i n g a man c l o s e r t o l o v e , t o grace and t o God. E s s e n t i a l l y the same s o r t of paradox occurs i n a l a t e r n o v e l , The Quiet  American: Alden P y l e , the innocent young American, b r i n g s about bloodshed and death i n V i e t Nam through h i s naive i d e a l -ism. The Power and the G l o r y c h a r t s the whiskey p r i e s t ' s j o u r -ney from innocence to e x p e r i e n c e , and at the end the p r i e s t 106 has gained a new, more durable innocence. He pushes away a l l p r e t e n c e : " . . . one was pledged to t r u t h . When he confesses to being a p r i e s t t o the inmates of the c e l l , he r e a l i z e s l i k e so many other Greene p r o t a g o n i s t s t h a t c o n f e s s i o n b r i n g s peace: one has r e v e a l e d the worst and s t i l l one goes on l i v i n g . I t was l i k e the end: there was no need to hope any l o n g e r . The ten y e a r s ' hunt was over a t l a s t . There was s i l e n c e a l l round him. T h i s p l a c e was very l i k e the world: overcrowded w i t h l u s t and crime and un-happy l o v e , i t stank t o heaven; but he r e a l i z e d t h a t a f t e r a l l i t was p o s s i b l e to f i n d peace t h e r e , when you knew f o r c e r -t a i n t h a t the time was short.^2 In the whiskey p r i e s t , as i n both P i n k i e and Scobie, t h e r e i s the d e s i r e f o r c e s s a t i o n , f o r the vacuum of l i f e a f t e r death which w i l l put a stop t o the i n c e s s a n t hunt, the desperate need to escape: P i n k i e , however, i s d r i v e n t o h i s death by the f o r c e s of s o c i e t y , Scobie by h i s own sense of d e s p e r a t i o n and wor t h l e s s n e s s . Only the whiskey p r i e s t demonstrates the t r u e freedom of h i s c o n s c i e n c e , w h i l e both P i n k i e and Scobie i n d i f -f e r e n t degrees remain v i c t i m s of t h e i r own, t o use a phrase from Maurice Friedman, ' p s y c h o l o g i c a l compulsion'. They are both monomaniacs, obsessed w i t h t h e i r own b a s i c a l l y e g o t i s t i c a l v i s i o n s of l i f e , unable t o f a c e the p u l l of complex e x t e r n a l f o r c e s which t h r e a t e n t o d i s i n t e g r a t e t h e i r own concept of r e a l -i t y . Only the whiskey p r i e s t i s a b l e t o overcome the death-welcoming shouts of h i s own ego, f o r u n l i k e Scobie, he i s saved by h i s growing sense of compassion, not c o r r u p t e d by h i s sense 107 of p i t y . A f t e r being r e l e a s e d from the p r i s o n , h i s i d e n t i t y s t i l l unknown to the a u t h o r i t i e s , the p r i e s t , completely abandoned, wanders through a dead and dying l a n d . For him i t i s the dark n i g h t of the s o u l ; death haunts him w i t h v i s i o n s of peace and t r a n q u i l l i t y ; but he c a r r i e s on, f o r he r e a l i z e s , u n l i k e Scobie, t h a t death i s too easy a way out. Somehow he stumbles out ac-r o s s the border, back i n t o the peace and ease of t h e . l i f e he experienced b e f o r e he was outlawed. But f a t e , and f a t e ' s messenger the mestizo, f o r c e him t o choose between t h i s cocoon of s e c u r i t y with i t s s p i r i t u a l a r i d i t y , and c e r t a i n death back across the border. The mestizo, who has f o l l o w e d him a c r o s s i n t o the 'safe' s t a t e , t r i e s t o l u r e the p r i e s t back. He b r i n g s with him a note from a dying American gangster holed up i n an abandoned v i l l a g e , a sking the p r i e s t t o hear the gangster's l a s t c o n f e s s i o n . The p r i e s t knows he cannot r e f u s e , even though he i s f u l l y aware t h a t he i s being l u r e d i n t o a t r a p . I t i s h i s f i n a l d e c i s i o n . Rather than d r i f t i n t o ease and pious complacency i n Las Casas, he chooses to f u l f i l l t o the l e t t e r h i s p r i e s t l y r o l e , t o commit h i m s e l f f i n a l l y and i r r e v o c a b l y to h i s b e l i e f s , unto death. He r e a l i z e s f i n a l l y t h a t p i e t y and the k i n d of moral r i g i d i t y i t i m p l i e s c o r r u p t s the s p i r i t f a r more r e a d i l y than the ' e v i l ' i t d e n i g r a t e s . "God might f o r g i v e cowardice and p a s s i o n , but was i t p o s s i b l e t o f o r g i v e the h a b i t of p i e t y ? Men l i k e the h a l f - c a s t e c o u l d be saved, s a l -v a t i o n c o u l d s t r i k e l i k e l i g h t n i n g a t the e v i l h e a r t , but the 108 6 3 h a b i t of p i e t y excluded e v e r y t h i n g . " I r o n i c a l l y the American gangster i s f a r more concerned w i t h h e l p i n g the p r i e s t t o escape than w i t h g a i n i n g a b s o l u t i o n f o r h i s s i n s , and the p r i e s t i s captured, brought to the c a p i t a l and executed, h i s l a s t duty l e f t undone and h i s death seemingly meaningless. On h i s l a s t n i g h t b e f o r e the dawn shooting squad, ". . . even the f e a r of p a i n was i n the background. He f e l t o n l y an immense disappointment because he had to go t o God empty-64 handed, w i t h n o t h i n g done at a l l . " He, a t the end, does not welcome death as a way out of l i f e ' s c o n t i n u a l torment: i n s t e a d , he i s ashamed t h a t he has not done more wi t h the l i f e t h a t God has g i v e n him. Both the whiskey p r i e s t and the l i e u t e n a n t have the i n t e n s e s e l f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s and sense of purpose t y p i c a l of Greene's heroes, but through t h e i r h e l d c o n v i c t i o n s the two men are p o l a r i z e d i n the r e l i g i o u s v i s i o n pervading the n o v e l . In The M i n i s t r y o f Fear, Greene w r i t e s : . . . the d e v i l — and God too — had always used comic people, f u t i l e people, l i t t l e surburban natures and the maimed and warped to serve h i s purposes. When God used them you t a l k e d e m p t i l y of N o b i l i t y and when the d e v i l used them of Wickedness, but the m a t e r i a l was o n l y d u l l shabby human medi-o c r i t y i n e i t h e r . 6 5 Even i f the whiskey p r i e s t and the l i e u t e n a n t do share t h i s a l l - l e v e l l i n g m e d i o c r i t y , t h e r e i s one t h i n g t h a t does d i s -t i n g u i s h them — t h e i r a t t i t u d e t o p a i n . The l i e u t e n a n t hates p a i n and s u f f e r i n g because i t reminds him of h i s h a t e f u l c h i l d -109 hood. L i k e so many of Greene's c h a r a c t e r s he wants t o make s u f f e r i n g cease everywhere because he, h i m s e l f , cannot bear i t . His sense of p i t y f o r h i s people i s so stro n g t h a t p a r a d o x i c a l l y he murders them t o stop them s u f f e r i n g . He stood w i t h h i s hand on h i s h o l s t e r and watched the brown, i n t e n t , p a t i e n t eyes: i t was f o r these he was f i g h t i n g . He would e l i m i n a t e from t h e i r c h i l d h o o d e v e r y t h i n g t h a t had made him m i s e r a b l e , a l l t h a t was poor, s u p e r s t i t i o u s and c o r r u p t . They deserved nothi n g l e s s than the t r u t h -- a vacant u n i v e r s e and a c o o l i n g world, the r i g h t t o be happy i n any way they chose. He was q u i t e prepared t o make a massacre f o r t h e i r sakes . . . He wanted t o begin the world again w i t h them i n a desert.^6 U l t i m a t e l y , he i s a f r a i d of l i f e , so he wants t o cut h a l f of i t away, t o be l e f t w i t h vacancy, peace, emptiness . . . death. He wants t o g i v e the c h i l d r e n the whole world, but he has nothin g but a d e s e r t t o o f f e r . The p r i e s t on the other hand i s not a f r a i d of s u f f e r i n g ; he accepts i t because he knows t h a t i t i s an i n t i m a t e p a r t of l i f e , t h a t t o attempt to e r a d i c a t e i t would l e a d e v e n t u a l l y t o the l i e u t e n a n t ' s d e s p a i r o r t o Scobie's s u i c i d e . The whiskey p r i e s t i s the f i r s t Greene hero t o accept l i f e i n a l l i t s f a c e t s ; he r e a l i z e s t h a t s u f f e r i n g can ennoble, t h a t hate i s j u s t a f a i l u r e of i m a g i n a t i o n , t h a t you cannot s o l v e the dilemnas o f l i f e by death. The l i e u t e n a n t , a f t e r he had captured the p r i e s t , " . . . f e l t without purpose, as i f l i f e 6 7 had d r a i n e d out of the world." Because he wants t o shut out the l i f e t h a t he sees, and i s unable t o , d e s p a i r a s s a i l s him. The whiskey p r i e s t l e a r n s through s u f f e r i n g t h a t l i f e cannot 110 be shut out, t h a t hope can o n l y come when one accepts the world i n a l l i t s t e r r o r . The 'inward man' has at l a s t emerged; t e r r o r of l i f e has a t l a s t g i v e n way to acceptance. Although the p r i e s t acquieses i n h i s own death, he i s motivated by hope r a t h e r than d e s p a i r ; t o seek l i f e , to abandon h i s commitment would have meant the death of the p r i e s t w i t h i n him, to him a more t e r r i b l e , s p i r i t u a l death. The whiskey p r i e s t ' s f i n a l wish before dying i s t o become a s a i n t — "He knew now t h a t at the end t h e r e was o n l y one t h i n g 6 8 t h a t counted — t o be a s a i n t . . . " — and y e t he f e e l s t h a t he has f a i l e d . S i g n i f i c a n t l y , however, the whiskey p r i e s t i s the f i r s t main p r o t a g o n i s t i n Greene's f i c t i o n a l world to c o n s c i o u s l y accept l i f e r a t h e r than r e j e c t i t , and t o d i e f o r the c o n t i n u a t i o n of l i f e r a t h e r than t o embrace death as a f i n a l escape from the f e a r of l i v i n g . As R. W. B. Lewis w r i t e s : A b e l i e f i n the a c t of l i v i n g i s not some-t h i n g g i v e n t o the contemporary n o v e l i s t as h i s n a t u r a l l e g a c y , as i t has been i n l e s s d i s t u r b e d g e n e r a t i o n s . I t i s something achieved by a desperate s t r u g g l e , and the s u c c e s s i v e phases of the s t r u g g l e p r o v i d e the r e p r e s e n t a t i v e p l o t of the contemporary novel. « 9 The whiskey p r i e s t achieves the s t r u g g l e , but i s c r u c i f i e d f o r h i s e f f o r t s . His i n d i v i d u a l sense of commitment t o the s p i r i t of l i f e and grace, however, and h i s t e n t a t i v e d i s c o v e r y of h i s own meaning i n the absurd world t h a t surrounds him, s t r o n g l y d i f f e r e n t i a t e s him as a c h a r a c t e r from Greene's e a r l i e r heroes, who are v i c t i m i z e d not o n l y by s o c i e t y but by t h e i r own i n n e r I l l d e s p a i r and sense of emptiness. * * * I t i s e n l i g h t e n i n g , I f e e l , to see B r i g h t o n Rock, The  Power and the G l o r y , and The Heart of the Matter as a t r i l o g y , which c e n t r e s around the t r a u m a t i c r e l a t i o n s h i p between a man, h i s God, and the world around him, and the e f f e c t s t h a t t h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p has on the th r e e q u i t e d i f f e r e n t p r o t a g o n i s t s . P i n k i e , r e j e c t i n g the f i g u r e of a u t h o r i t y and l i f e - g i v i n g power t h a t the C a t h o l i c God r e p r e s e n t s f o r him, embraces death as a f i n a l e v a s i o n and r e b e l l i o n . The whiskey p r i e s t embraces l i f e and man through God. Scobie must become h i s own God, h i s own judge and e x e c u t i o n e r , and i t i s he who emerges as the most F a u s t i a n and t r a g i c of a l l Greene's heroes. A l l of the th r e e major p r o t a g o n i s t s of B r i g h t o n Rock, The  Power and the G l o r y , and The Heart of the Matter commit d i f f e r -i n g forms of s u i c i d e : P i n k i e , the whiskey p r i e s t and Scobie a l l b r i n g about t h e i r own death, but i t i s t h e i r reasons f o r g i v i n g up l i f e , and the f o r c e s t h a t make them do so, t h a t d i s -t i n g u i s h them from one another. S u i c i d e i s a s i g n i f i c a n t as-pect of Greene's v i s i o n of e x i s t e n c e . One c r i t i c , d e s c r i b i n g the temptation of Greene's c h a r a c t e r s t o take t h e i r own l i f e , w r i t e s : S u i c i d e emerges not simply as a l i v e o p t i o n to these unhappy people, but as the only p o s s i b l e means of escape from a world i n 112 which being human means t h a t one must d r i n k the cup of s u f f e r i n g . . . so whether s u i c i d e i s undertaken as a means of escape from an u g l y and hopeless world, or whether i t i s the i n e v i t a b l e consequence of the l i f e of s u f f e r i n g l o v e , i t i s the almost c e r t a i n end f o r those who become engaged i n e x i s t e n c e . Scobie i s Greene's best-known ' s u i c i d e ' , and perhaps the most f i n e l y drawn p o r t r a i t of a s i n k i n g man i n a l l of Greene's o f t e n l u g u b r i o u s g a l l e r y . L i k e The Power and the G l o r y , The Heart of the Matter d e p i c t s an i n t e r n a l moral drama, c e n t r e d i n the l o n e l y h e a r t of the p r o t a g o n i s t . Both the whiskey p r i e s t and Scobie l i v e and d i e a c c o r d i n g t o t h e i r own p e r s o n a l code; b u l l i e d as they are by e x t e r n a l circumstances, v i c t i m i z e d by t h e i r own weakness and the hard-heartedness of the world around them, they s t r i v e d e s p e r a t e l y to l i v e a c c o r d i n g t o t h e i r own sense of e t h i c s . Both the whiskey p r i e s t and Scobie are t r a g i c heroes r a t h e r than v i c t i m s : the d i f f e r e n c e i s v i t a l i n an understanding of Greene's growth as a n o v e l i s t . They are i n d i v i d u a l s i n t h a t they have moral c h o i c e . Although not heroes i n the o l d sense of being ' l a r g e r than l i f e " , they are i n many ways admirable and h e r o i c , i n s p i t e o f , or perhaps because o f , t h e i r many flaws. They are not t o t a l l y manipulated by t h e i r environment, and they can a c t , a s i g n i f i c a n t development over Greene's e a r l i e r p r o t a g o n i s t s . Greene r e a l i z e s t h a t w i t h the p o s s i b i l i t y f o r tragedy comes the p o s s i b i l i t y f o r hope, and i t i s t h i s seeming c o n t r a d i c t i o n t h a t mades The Heart of the Matter, e s p e c i a l l y , more than j u s t a study i n d e s p a i r . 113 However, although Scobie i s a t r a g i c f i g u r e , he i s by no means absolved; he c o r r u p t s and d e s t r o y s h i m s e l f , and t o see him as a modern-day s a i n t , as some c r i t i c s have done, i s a m i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of Greene's purpose. Greene h i m s e l f , i n a new i n t r o d u c t i o n t o The Heart of the Matter, w r i t e s : The c h a r a c t e r of Scobie was intended t o show t h a t p i t y can be the e x p r e s s i o n of an almost monstrous p r i d e . But I found the e f f e c t on the reader was q u i t e d i f f e r e n t . To them Scobie was 'a good man', he was hunted t o h i s doom by the hardness of h i s w i f e . . . S u i c i d e was Scobie's i n e v i t a b l e end; the p a r t i c u l a r motive of h i s s u i c i d e , t o save even God from h i m s e l f , was perhaps the f i n a l t w i s t of the screw of h i s i n o r d i n a t e p r i d e . Perhaps Scobie should have been a s u b j e c t f o r c r u e l comedy r a t h e r than f o r tragedy.71 In The Power and the G l o r y the whiskey p r i e s t a t t a i n s a measure of meaning i n h i s l i f e , surrounded as he i s by the ab-surd, empty world of Mexico: a sense of moral order surrounds him at h i s e x e c u t i o n : he w i l l not d i e completely i n v a i n . Scobie too has h i s moral purpose — s u p e r f i c i a l l y a t l e a s t the same r e l i g i o u s commitment -- but the moral system he has c r e a t e d i s u l t i m a t e l y too i s o l a t i n g , too e g o t i s t i c a l , t o a l l o w f o r any growth, any f l u i d i t y . Is i s p r e c i s e l y t h i s a l i e n a t i n g i n f l e x -i b i l i t y i n Scobie's nature which e v e n t u a l l y d e s t r o y s him. His sense of e t h i c s i s an e x t e n s i o n of h i s e v e r - p r e s e n t sense of g u i l t . P s y c h o l o g i c a l l y compelled t o s u f f e r , h i s l i f e i s n a r c i s s i s t i c a l l y based upon r e p e a t i n g the u l t i m a t e C h r i s t i a n symbol of s u f f e r i n g — the C r u c i f i x i o n . With Scobie, however, Greene i s back on f a m i l i a r t e r r i t o r y , 114 and perhaps t h a t i s why the p r o t a g o n i s t of The Heart of the  Matter i s , as F r a n c i s Wyndham suggests, " . . . t r u l y t h r e e -dimensional i n a way t h a t no other c h a r a c t e r has been i n 72 Greene's work t o date." Scobie i s a f a i l u r e — a f a i l u r e i n h i s own eyes, i n the eyes of h i s w i f e , and f i n a l l y i n the eyes of the community — and f a i l u r e , a f t e r a l l , i s Greene's medium. He i s wary of the very mention of success, of h a p p i -ness, or of peace. As A r t h u r Rowe says i n The M i n i s t r y of Fear, " . . . i t wasn't f a i l u r e he f e a r e d n e a r l y so much as 73 the enormous ta s k s t h a t success might c o n f r o n t him w i t h . " Scobie i s an a s s i s t a n t p o l i c e commissioner i n a West A f r i c a n c o l o n y , middle-aged, married to another of Greene's t r o p i c a l wives, w i t h a r e p u t a t i o n f o r j u s t i c e t h a t i s h i s undoing. He f e e l s a t e r r i b l e r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r h i s w i f e , and l a t e r , f o r h i s m i s t r e s s as w e l l — a r e s p o n s i b i l i t y motivated by an overwhelming sense of p i t y . P i t y i s an emotion t h a t f a s c i n a t e s Greene; he sees i t as a c o r r u p t i o n of l o v e , as a d e s t r u c t i v e agent which r e f l e c t s the emotional p a u c i t y of the i n d i v i d u a l whose l i f e i s guided by i t . In The M i n i s t r y of Fear he w r i t e s : " P i t y i s c r u e l . P i t y d e s t r o y s . Love 74 i s n ' t s a f e when p i t y ' s prowling around." To Greene, " P i t y 7 5 i s the worst p a s s i o n of a l l : we don't o u t l i v e i t l i k e sex." L i k e the l i e u t e n a n t , Scobie d e d i c a t e s h i m s e l f to e r a d i c -ate s u f f e r i n g , without r e a l i z i n g t h a t i t i s h i s own s u f f e r i n g which he wants to end. Scobie i s a man whose d o w n f a l l stems from a l a c k of t r u s t i n the God i n whom he p r o f e s s e s t o b e l i e v e . 115 He takes upon h i m s e l f the f a t e s o f h i s two charges, presuming t h a t he and he alone must be r e s p o n s i b l e f o r t h e i r happiness. Greene, ever a l e r t t o the paradoxes i n h e r e n t i n human nature, p o r t r a y s i n The Heart of the Matter a man whose f a t a l flaw l i e s i n what seem t o be h i s good q u a l i t i e s -- compassion, r e s p o n s i b i l i t y , moral r e c t i t u d e . But v i r t u e s f o r Greene are o f t e n p a s s i v e a b s t r a c t i o n s , and l i k e innocence, when taken t o excess or used i n the wrong m i l i e u , encourage v i c e . As he w r i t e s i n The M i n i s t r y o f Fear, another, l i g h t e r , study of the e v i l e f f e c t s of p i t y on man's nature: "Courage smashes a c a t h e d r a l , endurance l e t s a c i t y s t a r v e , p i t y k i l l s . . . 7 6 we are trapped and betrayed by our v i r t u e s . " Scobie, l i k e A r t h u r Rowe, s u f f e r s from " . . . t h a t sense of p i t y which i s 77 so much more promiscuous than l u s t . . . " but Rowe a t l e a s t has a sense of t r u s t . He r e a l i z e s t h a t " . . . i t i s imposs-i b l e t o go through l i f e without t r u s t : t h a t i s t o be imprisoned 7 8 i n the worst c e l l of a l l , o n e s e l f . " T h i s i s Scobie's predicament: he i s alone, trapped and u l t i m a t e l y d e f e a t e d by h i s overweening sense of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r the two women, n e i t h e r of whom he can r e a l l y t r u s t w i t h h i s inn e r f e e l i n g s . His s u i c i d e i s the i n e v i t a b l e end of a man who, i n the attempt to c o n t r o l the happiness of o t h e r s , l o s e s c o n t r o l of h i s own l i f e . L i k e Sisyphus of the Greek myth, he r o l l s h i s burden c e a s e l e s s l y to the summit o n l y t o have t o begin a l l over a t the base again; but i t i s not onl y h i s own loa d he c a r r i e s , but the burden of the world -- the world of the weak and 116 s u f f e r i n g , the u n a t t r a c t i v e and u n s u c c e s s f u l . He had no sense of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y toward the b e a u t i f u l and the g r a c e f u l and the i n t e l l i g e n t . They c o u l d f i n d t h e i r own way. I t was the fa c e f o r which nobody would go out of h i s way, the face t h a t would never c a t c h the c o v e r t look, the face which would soon be used t o r e b u f f s and i n d i f f e r e n c e t h a t demanded h i s a l l e g i a n c e . The word p i t y i s used as l o o s e l y as the word ' l o v e 1 : the t e r r i b l e promiscuous p a s s i o n which so few expe r i e n c e . I f The Power and the G l o r y i s , as I have t r i e d t o show, a study of one man's d e v i a t i n g ascent t o a t e n t a t i v e commit-ment and wholeness, a journey through the j u n g l e s of the ego to some k i n d of s e l f l e s s n e s s , The Heart of the Matter i s a step by step r e v e l a t i o n of Scobie's descent t o emptiness and d e s p a i r . Even h i s o f f i c e i n the p o l i c e b a r r a c k s show t h i s . I t i s h i s home f a r more than the house he shares w i t h h i s w i f e , L o u i s e : . . . t o a st r a n g e r i t would have appeared a bare uncomfortable room but t o Scobie i t was home. Other men b u i l t up the sense of home by accumulation . . . Scobie b u i l t h i s home by a process of r e d u c t i o n . He longs d e s p e r a t e l y f o r peace, and h i s h a p p i e s t moment occurs a f t e r L o u i s e has been sent t o South A f r i c a , and he i s l e f t completely alone. Except f o r the sound of the r a i n , on the road, on the r o o f s , and the umbrella, there was ab s o l u t e s i l e n c e : o n l y the dying moan of the s i r e n s c o n t i n u e d f o r a moment or two t o v i b r a t e w i t h i n the ear. I t seemed t o Scobie l a t e r t h a t t h i s was the u l t i m a t e border he had reached i n happiness: being i n darkness alone, w i t h the r a i n f a l l i n g , without l o v e or p i t y . 117 Scobie i s a c u r i o u s amalgam of both the p r i e s t and l i e u -t enant, f o r although a C a t h o l i c , he seems to share the l i e u -t enant's f e e l i n g of emptiness, w i t h i n and without. He d e s i r e s peace and uninvolvement, y e t he i n v o l v e s h i m s e l f i n e x t r i c a b l y i n the l i v e s of two s u f f e r i n g people. His t e r r i b l e sense of p i t y makes him want to stop s u f f e r i n g at a l l c o s t s , y e t he seems t o cause i t whatever he does, and he ends up c r u c i f y i n g h i m s e l f , u s u r p i n g C h r i s t ' s r o l e , because he f e e l s t h a t he alone i s r e s p o n s i b l e , t h a t he alone can s o l v e the s i t u a t i o n . Caught between h i s p i t y f o r h i s w i f e and p i t y f o r h i s young m i s t r e s s , and unable t o commit h i m s e l f wholly to e i t h e r , h i s i n d e c i s i o n f o r c e s him t o see death as the o n l y way out. "He s a i d , *I can't bear t o see s u f f e r i n g , and I cause i t a l l the time. I 8 2 want to get out, get out'." L i k e the whiskey p r i e s t , Scobie i s i n t r o d u c e d i n t o the novel as i f by a c c i d e n t . On the s u r f a c e , l i k e other human beings, he seems o r d i n a r y and completely without d i s t i n c t i o n . Wilson, the baby-faced new accountant at the colony who i s a c t u a l l y a government spy, and who w i l l soon become youth-f u l l y i n f a t u a t e d w i t h Scobie's p a t h e t i c w i f e , l i t e r a r y L o u i s e , c o u l d see no p a r t i c u l a r i n t e r e s t i n the squat g r e y - h a i r e d man walking alone up Bond S t r e e t . T h i s i s p r e c i s e l y Greene's i n t e n t i o n : he i s not concerned w i t h c r e a t i n g c h a r a c t e r s l a r g e r than l i f e , but with e x p l o r i n g the f a t e s of the i n v i s -i b l e people who are manipulated and t w i s t e d by f o r c e s l a r g e r than themselves, the anonymous f a c e s i n the crowd which with an 118 a r t i s t ' s i n s i g h t r e v e a l the whole pathos and s u f f e r i n g of humanity. Scobie, a f t e r f i f t e e n years i n the colony, i s a t i r e d man, m e n t a l l y and p h y s i c a l l y . He has almost given..up t r y i n g t o impose an a l i e n f o r c e of j u s t i c e on the n a t i v e p o p u l a t i o n ; and whatever l o v e he has had f o r h i s w i f e has corroded i n t o p i t y and the burden of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y . "The l e s s he needed L o u i s e the more conscious he became of h i s r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r 8 3 her happiness." For Scobie, L o u i s e has no r e a l i t y as a l i v i n g being w i t h an e n t i t y of her own: h i s p i t y has turned her i n t o an o b j e c t . Only very i n f r e q u e n t l y does he r e a l i z e t h a t : " . . . she was someone of human s t a t u r e w i t h her own sense of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y , not simply the o b j e c t of h i s care and 84 kindness." Love has been burned out of Scobie, but he xs unable to abandon the pretence of l o v i n g . L i k e A r t h u r Rowe, " . . . i t broke h i s p r e c a r i o u s calm t o f e e l t h a t people 8 5 s u f f e r e d . Then he would do anything f o r them. Anything." Images of l o a d s , weights, burdens c o n s t a n t l y d e s c r i b e the c o n d i t i o n ; of Scobie's harrowed consciousness. With a deep sense of g u i l t f o r h i s w i f e ' s m i s e r a b l e e x i s t e n c e , and l a t e r h i s m i s t r e s s ' s , he attempts u n s u c c e s s f u l l y to absorb, l i k e a well-soaked sponge, t h e i r s u f f e r i n g i n t o h i m s e l f . As he watches h i s w i f e s i n k i n t o s l e e p each n i g h t , he f e e l s the burden of consciousness s l i p p i n g from her. "The l o a d l a y beside him 8 6 now, and he prepared to l i f t i t . " 119 H i s u b i q u i t o u s sense of p i t y even spreads i n t o h i s work. One of Scobie's wartime d u t i e s i s to search outgoing s h i p s f o r smuggled diamonds and hidden documents, and on s e a r c h i n g one c a p t a i n ' s c a b i n he f i n d s a concealed — and d o u b t l e s s i n c r i m -i n a t i n g — l e t t e r , which he burns out of p i t y f o r the c a p t a i n , who would l o s e h i s p o s i t i o n i f were r e p o r t e d . No one n o t i c e s Scobie's a c t i o n : "Only h i s own h e a r t - b e a t s t o l d him he was g u i l t y — t h a t he had j o i n e d the ranks of the c o r r u p t p o l i c e o f f i c e r s . . . They had been c o r r u p t e d by money, and he had been 8 7 c o r r u p t e d by sentiment." When Scobie sends c h r o n i c a l l y unhappy L o u i s e to South A f r i c a on money s e c r e t l y borrowed from Yusef, the crooked S y r i a n t r a d e r and smuggler who has i n t e n s e a d m i r a t i o n f o r Scobie, he reaches a new l e v e l of c o r r u p t i o n and d e s p a i r . He has always laughed a t b i t t e r t aunts t h a t he i s i n the pay of the S y r i a n s , and now i n a sense he i s ; he i s i n debt t o Yusef, and h i s r e -p u t a t i o n as a j u s t and i n c o r r u p t i b l e man i s i n the S y r i a n ' s hands. Yet he knows t h a t h i s t o t a l investment i n L o u i s e ' s hap-p i n e s s w i l l l e a d t o t h i s . "Despair i s the p r i c e one pays f o r 8 8 s e t t i n g o n e s e l f an i m p o s s i b l e aim." The p a r a l l e l between Scobie and Yusef i s an i n t e r e s t i n g one. Yusef, a c u r i o u s l y i n g r a t i a t i n g f i g u r e of e v i l , worships Scobie because he seems t o be the a n t i t h e s i s of Yusef's own c h a r a c t e r --honest, j u s t , u n b r i b a b l e . But these v i r u t e s o f f e r Scobie no comfort i n a world t h a t runs on c o r r u p t p r a c t i c e s . A j u s t man i n a c o r r u p t world i s e a s i l y a s s a i l e d by a sense of f u t i l i t y and 120 d e s p a i r . I t i s , one i s t o l d , the u n f o r g i v e a b l e s i n , but i t i s a s i n the c o r r u p t or e v i l man never p r a c t i c e s . He always has hope. He never reaches the f r e e z i n g - p o i n t of knowing ab s o l u t e f a i l u r e . Only the man of good-w i l l c a r r i e s always i n h i s h e a r t t h i s capa-c i t y f o r damnation.89 Greene, always aware of s u b t l e d i s t i n c t i o n s , c e r t a i n l y r e c o g n i z e s , however, the d i f f e r e n c e between a man of good w i l l and a good man. I f The Heart of the Matter d e p i c t s , as one might be l e d t o suspect from a hasty r e a d i n g of the n o v e l , the t r a g i c f a l l of a good man, Scobie's 'goodness' i s s t r a n g e l y hollow at i t s c e n t r e , f o r Scobie l a c k s not o n l y t r u s t but courage: h i s h o r r o r of h u r t i n g anyone, which i s the o s t e n s i b l e cause of h i s s u i c i d e , i s , i r o n i c a l l y f o r a man who seems so f u l l of i n t e g r i t y , a r e f u s a l t o accept p e r s o n a l r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r h i s involvement w i t h mankind. Although Scobie assumes the r o l e of God by c a s t i n g judgement upon h i m s e l f , and sentencing h i m s e l f to death, he r e f u s e s to a l l o w f o r the humanity and sense of mercy which might l i e o u t s i d e h i s own power — i n Helen, L o u i s e , or h i s God. Without the courage t o open h i m s e l f , perhaps to l e t o t h e r s judge him, he cannot a c t i n any l i f e - g i v i n g way, but can o n l y cease l i v i n g , w i t h no hope of b r e a k i n g the deadlock t h a t enchains him. The o n l y r e a l l y human r e l a t i o n s h i p Scobie has, a r e l a t i o n -s h i p which i s not shared between one who p i t i e s and one who i s p i t i e d , i s w i t h Yusef, and one can t r a c e the path of Scobie's f a l l through h i s s u c c e s s i v e meetings w i t h the c o r p u l e n t S y r i a n 121 t r a d e r . P r o t a g o n i s t and a n t a g o n i s t , they begin at o p p o s i t e ends of the s c a l e , but as Scobie's weakness and sense of p i t y im-p l i c a t e s him deeper and deeper i n the world of c o r r u p t i o n , t h e i r paths begin t o converge, u n t i l Scobie comes to see t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p as a k i n d of marriage. E a r l y i n the n o v e l Scobie says: "'Fdon't t h i n k the time's ever l i k e l y t o come, Yusef, 90 when I s h a l l need your p i t y ' . " Much l a t e r , as Scobie s i t s through a long n i g h t i n Yusef's a i r l e s s o f f i c e , h a l f knowing t h a t h i s f a i t h f u l servant A l i i s going to be k i l l e d by Yusef's arrangement y e t unable t o a c t s i n c e h i s own l a c k of t r u s t has engendered Yusef's p l a n , he does become an o b j e c t of Yusef's p i t y . He had t o l d a l l h i s w o r r i e s now -- a l l except the worst. He had the odd sense of having f o r the f i r s t time i n h i s l i f e s h i f t e d a ^ burden elsewhere. And Yusef c a r r i e d i t . . . Scobie, however, can never go through the c l e a n s i n g r i t u a l of c o n f e s s i o n , even with Yusef, who perhaps of a l l the c h a r a c t e r s i n the n o v e l comes c l o s e s t t o Scobie's i n n e r s e l f , even t o the p o i n t o f r e f l e c t i n g the darker s i d e of Scobie's own nature t o h i m s e l f . A f t e r L o u i s e l e a v e s , Scobie's p i t y soon f i n d s another ob-j e c t t o a t t a c h i t s e l f t o — Helen R o l t , a young E n g l i s h g i r l whose husband has j u s t d i e d i n a shipwreck. She s u r v i v e s the f o r t y days a t sea i n an open boat, and stay s on, t h i n , unwanted and f r i e n d l e s s i n the colony. They become f r i e n d s through t h e i r shared s u f f e r i n g , and g r a d u a l l y Scobie's p i t y f o r her becomes 122 so s t r o n g t h a t he t h i n k s i t i s l o v e . Above a l l , he f e e l s r e s p o n s i b l e f o r her, and now h i s c o n f l i c t i n g r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s , to L o u i s e , <bb Helen, and t o God, begin t o g r i n d away at h i s being, pushing and p u l l i n g him i n s e v e r a l d i r e c t i o n s a t once. He had sworn t o pre s e r v e L o u i s e ' s happiness, and now he had accepted another and c o n t r a -d i c t o r y r e s p o n s i b i l i t y . He f e l t t i r e d by a l l the l i e s he would sometime have to t e l l : he f e l t the wounds of those v i c t i m s who had not y e t b l e d . L y i n g back on the p i l l o w he s t a r e d s l e e p l e s s l y out towards the grey e a r l y morning t i d e . Somewhere on the fa c e of those obscure waters moved the sense of yet another wrong and another v i c t i m , not L o u i s e , nor Helen. Away i n the town the cocks began t o crow f o r the f a l s e dawn. He has not o n l y , l i k e P e t e r , betrayed God, but he knows t h a t h i s b e t r a y a l of every i n t i m a t e r e l a t i o n s h i p he l i v e s f o r i s i n e s c a p a b l e . L i k e Scobie, Greene i s concerned w i t h the u l t i m a t e con-sequences of human a c t i o n ; he i s not swayed by the temporary c o n d i t i o n s of happiness and love but focuses u n c e a s i n g l y on the f i n a l c a t a s t r o p h e -- l o s s o f youth, l o s s of l o v e , break-down, death. A t r a g i c v i s i o n o f l o s s , t o Scobie, i s 'the hea r t of the matter'. "In human l o v e , " Greene w r i t e s , "as i n l i f e i t s e l f , t h e r e i s never such a t h i n g as v i c t o r y : only a few minor t a c t i c a l successes b e f o r e the f i n a l d e f e a t of death 93 or i n d i f f e r e n c e . " Scobie i s trapped i n a f a l l e n world, where happiness f o r the s e n s i t i v e man i s i m p o s s i b l e , and where the c e n t r a l f a c t of the u n i v e r s e i s emptiness and a b s u r d i t y . As Scobie says: 123 P o i n t me out a happy man and I w i l l p o i n t you out e i t h e r egotism, e v i l -- or e l s e an abs o l u t e ignorance . . . I f one knew, he wondered, the f a c t s , would one have t o f e e l p i t y even f o r the p l a n e t s ? I f one reached^ what they c a l l e d the heart of the matter?^ When Lo u i s e r e t u r n s , armed w i t h the rumours t h a t were a l -ready c i r c u l a t i n g about Helen R o l t and Scobie, he i s trapped; u n w i l l i n g to cause unhappiness on e i t h e r s i d e , he i s caught i n the narrowing r i n g of d e s p a i r . When L o u i s e urges him to r e -c e i v e Communion as a t e s t of h i s f a i t h f u l n e s s , he does so, knowing he i s damning h i m s e l f by r e c e i v i n g the sacrament i n the s t a t e of m o r t a l s i n , but a c c e p t i n g h i s damnation because as he says he cannot see God s u f f e r . He damns hi m s e l f t o convince L o u i s e of h i s innocence: t o t e l l her the t r u t h would be un-t h i n k a b l e . "Once and f o r a l l now a t whatever c o s t , he was determined t h a t he would c l e a r h i m s e l f i n her eyes and g i v e 95 her the reassurance she needed." Completely bogged down by h i s c o n f l i c t i n g l o y a l t i e s and unable t o e x t r i c a t e h i m s e l f , t o make a c h o i c e o r take a stand, Scobie l o s e s hope; he r e a l i z e s t h a t " . . . he had onl y l e f t f o r h i s e x p l o r a t i o n the t e r r i -+. * j H96 t o r y of d e s p a i r . " Scobie's s u i c i d e i s no s u r p r i s e ; i t runs l i k e a t h r e a t through the e n t i r e book. When young Pemberton hangs h i m s e l f at Bamba — burdened by a l a r g e debt t o Yusef, l i k e Scobie, and d e f e a t e d by the barrenness of l i f e i n the t r o p i c s — Scobie i s shocked: " . . . i t suddenly o c c u r r e d t o him t h a t t h i s was an a c t he c o u l d never do. S u i c i d e was f o r e v e r out of h i s power — he c o u l d n ' t condemn h i m s e l f f o r an e t e r n i t y — no 124 97 cause was important enough." T h i s i s b e f o r e h i s o v e r r i d i n g sense of p i t y c o r r u p t s h i s b a s i c v a l u e s and warps h i s judge-ment. As Scobie comes c l o s e r and c l o s e r to p l a n n i n g h i s own s u i c i d e , he f i n d s more precedents and excuses f o r committing i t . " C h r i s t had not been murdered: you c o u l d n ' t murder God: C h r i s t had k i l l e d h i m s e l f : He had hung Himself on the c r o s s 98 as s u r e l y as Pemberton had done from the p i c t u r e - r a i l . " For Scobie s u i c i d e becomes p h i l o s o p h i c a l l y and p s y c h o l o g i c a l l y i n e v i t a b l e . A l b e r t Camus w r i t e s : There i s but one t r u l y p h i l o s o p h i c a l problem> and t h a t i s s u i c i d e . Judging whether l i f e i s or i s not worth l i v i n g amounts t o answering th§ fundamental q u e s t i o n of p h i l o s o p h y . Scobie judges h i s own l i f e a f a i l u r e and decides t o end i t : t r u e t o form, even i n h i s l a s t d e c e p t i o n — h i s attempt to d i s g u i s e h i s s u i c i d e as a n a t u r a l death — he f a i l s . Though Scobie has been c o n s i d e r e d by c r i t i c s a k i n d of martyr, a man who, " . . . l i k e O t h e l l o . . . l o v e s not w i s e l y but too w e l l . . . " • L ^ f t h e r e i s an e s s e n t i a l d i f f e r e n c e be-teewn the chosen, though r e l u c t a n t , martyrdom of the whiskey p r i e s t and the presumptuous s e l f - e l e c t e d martyrdom of Scobie. The whiskey p r i e s t l e a r n s how t o l o v e : Scobie, i n c a p a b l e of l o v e , can o n l y p i t y . As John A t k i n s w r i t e s , " . . . when separated from l o v e , p i t y a c t u a l l y becomes d e s t r u c t i v e , a n e g a t i v e s h a r i n g of f a i l u r e , whereas love i s c r e a t i v e . " S c o b i e , whose c h a r a c t e r c o n t a i n s the p o s s i b i l i t y of tragedy, i s u l t i m a t e l y p a t h e t i c . Although t h e r e i s something h e r o i c i n h i s desperate i n n e r s t r u g g l e and h i s f i n a l misguided d e c i s i o n , Scobie l a c k s p a s s i o n , l a c k s the d e s i r e t o l i v e , so t h a t h i s seemingly a l t r u i s t i c s u i -c i d e i s f i n a l l y seen as an escape from the h o r r o r of human con-t a c t . H i s f a i l u r e i s " . . . the f a i l u r e of the w i l l t o l i v e , 102 and i t i s a b s o l u t e . " Even Scobie's c r e a t o r , Greene h i m s e l f , l o o k i n g back on the n o v e l r e f u s e s t o see Scobie as a hero but as a l e s s o n , which was perhaps too r i g i d l y t o l d . I t was t o prove a book more popular w i t h the p u b l i c , even w i t h the c r i t i c s , than w i t h the author. The s c a l e s t o me seem too h e a v i l y weighted, the p l o t overloaded, the r e l i g i -ous s c r u p l e s of Scobie too extreme. I had meant the s t o r y of Scobie to enlarge a theme which I had touched on i n The M i n i s t r y of Fear, the d i s a s t r o u s e f f e c t on human beings of p i t y as d i s t i n c t from compassion. x°3 J u s t b e f o r e Scobie commits s u i c i d e , Greene c r e a t e s an i n -t e r n a l d i a l o g u e between h i s p r o t a g o n i s t ' s mind and s o u l -- the mind which demands e x t i n c t i o n , and the s o u l which never ceases to hope. The mind d e s p a i r s of l i v i n g : " . . . everybody has to d i e . We are a l l of us r e s i g n e d to death: i t ' s l i f e we a r e n ' t 104 r e s i g n e d t o . " Scobie's s o u l , or the God w i t h i n him which 105 " . . . spoke from the cave of h i s body . . . " r e p l i e s : 106 "So long as you l i v e . . . I have hope." Yet Scobie r e j e c t s t h i s v o i c e , and succumbs to the f o r c e s of d e s p a i r i n s i d e h i m s e l f and i n the world around him. T h i s i s the e s s e n t i a l d i f f e r e n c e between the whiskey p r i e s t and Scobie, who r e p r e s e n t the oppo-s i t e p o l e s of Greene's world — so near y e t so f a r a p a r t . lZt> CHAPTER FOUR LOVE AND COMMITMENT Graham Greene i s i n many ways a t r a d i t i o n a l n o v e l i s t , not o n l y i n form and p h i l o s o p h y , but i n s u b j e c t matter. Although over h i s long c a r e e r he has been d e s c r i b e d , perhaps a c c u r a t e l y on a l l counts, as a romantic, a m o r a l i s t , even, i n h i s l a t e r c a r e e r , an e x i s t e n t i a l i s t , h i s l i t e r a r y touchstones are not Joyce, Woolf, C e l i n e , S a r t r e , or the avant-garde 'modern' n o v e l i s t s , who Greene f e e l s have l o s t the sense of the pro-found meaning of any and every human a c t i o n , but the d a r k e r , o l d e r w r i t e r s of the t u r n of the century, James and Conrad, and the European ' r e l i g i o u s ' n o v e l i s t s , among them Mauriac and Bernanos. In an essay on F r a n c o i s Mauriac, Greene w r i t e s : . . . w i t h the death of James the r e l i g i o u s sense was l o s t t o the E n g l i s h n o v e l , and w i t h the r e l i g i o u s sense went the sense of the importance of the human a c t . I t was as i f the world of f i c t i o n had l o s t a dimension . . . . However: . . . Mauriac i s a w r i t e r f o r whom the v i s i b l e world has not ceased to e x i s t , 127 whose c h a r a c t e r s have the s o l i d i t y and importance of men w i t h s o u l s t o save or l o s e , and a w r i t e r who claims the t r a d i -t i o n a l and e s s e n t i a l r i g h t of a n o v e l i s t , t o comment, t o express h i s views. By The Heart of the Matter Greene's no v e l s have reached t h i s k i n d of m a t u r i t y : h i s c h a r a c t e r s have become i n d i v i d u a l s w i t h s o u l s t o save or l o s e ; and, although h i s novels are not as profound as Conrad's Lord Jim or V i c t o r y or as i n t r i c a t e and s u b t l e as James' The Ambassadors, Greene a t h i s b e s t , from B r i g h t o n Rock t o The Comedians, seven novels and twenty-eight years a p a r t , has added a s i g n i f i c a n t chapter t o 'second genera-t i o n ' modern B r i t i s h f i c t i o n . Although one cannot compare h i s work on equal terms w i t h the novels of Joyce, Conrad and Lawrence, those e a r l y t w e n t i e t h century f i g u r e s who continue t o tower over contemporary B r i t i s h and American f i c t i o n , Greene's compassionate a n a l y s i s of the t r a u m a t i c emotional l i f e of human beings i s s u f f i c i e n t l y powerful and dramatic to ensure t h a t h i s f i c t i o n w i l l l a s t , and w i l l continue t o be read long a f t e r h i s death. Greene's c h a r a c t e r s , however, have never had the mythic power and depth of a c h a r a c t e r l i k e Stephen Dedalus, or Lord Jim, or Rupert Birkin.. They are s m a l l men, alone and f o r g o t t e n , d e s p e r a t e l y t r y i n g t o hope and to l o v e , yet knowing t h a t des-p a i r i s always w a i t i n g t o c l a i m them. They l i v e i n a world t h a t i s not o n l y i n d i f f e r e n t and h o s t i l e but i n h e r e n t l y e v i l ; t h i s i s one of the main d i f f e r e n c e s between Greene's world view and the view of ' n a t u r a l i s m ' . In Greene's f i c t i o n a l 128 u n i v e r s e h i s c h a r a c t e r s are more than j u s t f a t a l i s t i c v i c t i m s of t h e i r d e t e r m i n i s t i c environment: they are pawns i n a moral b a t t l e between Good and E v i l , and i t i s t h i s symbolic nature of Greene's v i s i o n t h a t separates him from the n a t u r a l i s t i c s c h o o l , w i t h which he has much i n common. At the c e n t r e of Greene's a r t l i e s a b e l i e f t h a t he a t t r i b u t e s t o Henry James i n an essay on the master: There was no v i c t o r y f o r human beings, t h a t was h i s c o n c l u s i o n ; you were punished i n your own way, whether you were of God's or the D e v i l ' s p a r t y . James b e l i e v e d i n the s u p e r n a t u r a l , but he saw e v i l as an equal f o r c e with good. Humanity was cannon fodder i n a^ war too balanced ever to be concluded. Greene h i m s e l f , i n an important essay e n t i t l e d "The L o s t Childhood", d e s c r i b e s h i s c h i l d h o o d r e v e l a t i o n upon read i n g M a r j o r i e Bowen's The V i p e r of M i l a n : . . . she had g i v e n me my p a t t e r n — r e l i g i o n might l a t e r e x p l a i n i t to me i n o t h e r terms, but the p a t t e r n was a l r e a d y t h e r e -- p e r f e c t e v i l walking the world where p e r f e c t good can never walk again , and o n l y the pendulum ensures t h a t a f t e r a l l i n the end j u s t i c e i s done. I t i s t h i s ' p a t t e r n ' t h a t r e v e a l s the b a s i c a l l y symbolic nature of Greene's f i c t i o n a l world: the d e t e r m i n a t i o n of f a t e and c h a r a c t e r i n t h i s world becomes i n f u s e d w i t h the element of the s u p e r n a t u r a l , and h i s c h a r a c t e r s i n order to a t t a i n any k i n d of f r e e w i l l or i n d i v i d u a l i t y have t o come t o terms wi t h t h i s f o r c e of e v i l at the h e a r t of the u n i v e r s e . They have to reach out f o r the p o s i t i v e v a l u e s of l o v e , and commit themselves 129 t o l i f e and a c t i o n i n order t o escape the f a t a l i s m and des-p a i r t h a t the e v i l nature of the world i n s p i r e s . Greene's b a s i c concern as a w r i t e r , l i k e Mauriac's, i s not o n l y t o c r e a t e ' c h a r a c t e r s who have the s o l i d i t y and im-portance of men wit h s o u l s to save or l o s e ' , which i n h i s matur-i t y he u s u a l l y does, but t o p o i n t out t h a t human e x i s t e n c e i s made up of s u f f e r i n g , a k i n d of s u f f e r i n g t h a t i s not ennobling but degrading: i n t h i s world o n l y anger can move men t o a c t i o n . Frank Kermode, although not an admirer of Greene, i s c l o s e t o the t r u t h when he d e s c r i b e s him as " . . . a n o v e l i s t of the Decadence, w r i t i n g not as a C a t h o l i c but as a neo-Roman-t i c . H is heroes, a l l maudits, know nothin g of the happiness and hope t h a t are, a f t e r a l l , p a r t of r e l i g i o n ; h i s world i s one i n which only Faust can be saved, and the v i c t i m i z e d pos-5 tu r e s of h i s heroes are u l t i m a t e l y F a u s t i a n . " Greene's heroes are r e b e l s , even t o the p o i n t of r e b e l -l i n g a g a i n s t God, as Bendrix does i n The End of the A f f a i r . Bendrix, F a u s t i a n i n h i s anger, i s i n h i s own eyes a f a i l u r e i n h i s l i f e , which c e n t r e s around h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h Sarah, yet Greene's p o r t r a i t of him, r a t h e r than being 'decadent' or 'heo-Romantic 1, i s the s t u f f of t r u e a r t . In the o p i n i o n of W i l l i a m Faulkner, The End of the A f f a i r i s " . . . f o r me one of the most t r u e and moving n o v e l s of my time, i n anybody's language."^ Greene i n h i s l a t e r n o v e l s u n s t i n t i n g l y r e f u s e s t o back away from the v o i d at the he a r t of t h i n g s ; i n much of h i s work 130 h i s focus i s on f a i l u r e and l o s s r a t h e r than on f u l f i l m e n t . L i k e most s e r i o u s a r t i s t s of our e r a , he r e f u s e s t o provide bromides f o r a t r o u b l e d world. L e s l i e F i e d l e r , i n h i s essay "No! In Thunder", says t h i s about s e r i o u s f i c t i o n : " . . . to f u l f i l l i t s e s s e n t i a l moral o b l i g a t i o n , such f i c t i o n must 7 be n e g a t i v e . " He w r i t e s : . . . works of a r t are about l o v e , f a m i l y r e l a t i o n s , p o l i t i c s , e t c . ; and t o the degree t h a t these r a d i c a l l y i mperfect human a c -t i v i t i e s are rep r e s e n t e d i n a p e r f e c t l y a r t i c u l a t e d form, they are r e v e a l e d i n a l l t h e i r i n t o l e r a b l e inadequacy. The image of man i n a r t , however m a g n i f i c e n t -l y p o r t r a y e d — indeed, p r e c i s e l y when i t i s most m a g n i f i c e n t l y portayed -- i s the image of a f a i l u r e . There i s no way o u t . 8 Greene i s aware of the i n e s c a p a b l e nature of l i f e , and the gap between man's a s p i r a t i o n s and h i s a c t u a l s i t u a t i o n , the gap which i s E l i o t ' s 'Shadow', Camus' 'Absurd', " . . . born of t h i s c o n f r o n t a t i o n between the human need and the unreason-9 able s i l e n c e of the world." As F i e d l e r w r i t e s : The v i s i o n of the t r u l y contemporary w r i t e r i s t h a t of a world not onl y absurd but a l s o c h a o t i c and fragmentary . . . a u n i v e r s e i n which our p e r c e p t i o n s o v e r l a p but do not c o i n c i d e , i n which we share c h i e f l y a sense of l o n e l i n e s s : our a l i e n a t i o n from whatever t h i n g s f i n a l l y a r e , as w e l l as from other men's awareness of those t h i n g s and of us.-'-" Greene c r i e s 'No! i n thunder' at the f a t e of man, y e t h i s l a t e r heroes — Bendrix, Fowler, Querry, Brown — a l l go beyond Scobie's d e s p a i r , i n t h e i r own ways, t o an uneasy, 131 angry, confused and o f t e n o n l y p a r t i a l acceptance of l i f e : at l e a s t they can s t i l l go on l i v i n g i n an absurd world. Perhaps they l e a r n t o understand and adapt, however f r a g -m e n t a r i l y , t o the emptiness around them. In t h e i r a b i l i t y t o cope w i t h t h e i r harsh, n e g a t i v e world one sees the grow-i n g power and scope of the i n d i v i d u a l i n Greene's f i c t i o n . Greene's f i c t i o n from i t s beginnings t o the prese n t (at the age of s i x t y - e i g h t , i t i s c o n c e i v e a b l e he w i l l produce other n o v e l s yet) i s f a s c i n a t i n g because, i n i t s development as a t o t a l i t y , one can c h a r t the development of Greene not o n l y as an a r t i s t but as a human being, a modern man f o r c e d to come t o terms w i t h h i s e x i s t e n c e , f o r c e d t o search f o r h i s own meaning i n a world which w i l l not p r o v i d e one f o r him. T h i s essay has t r i e d t o p o r t r a y the p r o g r e s s i o n of Greene's hero: i n h i s e a r l i e r works^, he i s a v i c t i m and an a n a r c h i s t i n a world which has no v a l u e s o t h e r than brute power and c o r r u p t i o n ; i n h i s ' r e l i g i o u s ' n o v e l s , s p e c i f i c a l l y The Power  and the G l o r y and The Heart of the Matter, d i f f e r e n t as they are , the p r o t a g o n i s t becomes no lo n g e r a mere v i c t i m of c i r -cumstance, but an i n d i v i d u a l capable of moral c h o i c e , a t r a g i c f i g u r e i n a world which i s i n i m i c a l t o moral commit-ment. A f t e r the C a t h o l i c i s m of the whiskey p r i e s t and Scobie, the world of Greene's hero becomes more s e c u l a r : man's con-d i t i o n i s seen as something c l o s e t o the concept of a b s u r d i t y t h a t Camus d e f i n e s , and y e t because h i s c h a r a c t e r s , f r e e d from the C a t h o l i c framework t o some degree a t l e a s t , need no 132 u l t i m a t e ' s t a t i c ' v a l u e s and are not bound by a r i g i d code of m o r a l i t y , they are a b l e t o cope w i t h the traumas of e x i s t -ence, and even s u r v i v e i n the harsh world around them. While Greene does not become an a b s u r d i s t or an e x i s t e n t i a l i s t i n the s t r i c t sense of the word — as one c r i t i c w r i t e s about Jean Genet, " . . . h i s c h a r a c t e r s are not haunted by meta-p h y s i c a l impotence; r a t h e r t h e i r e f f o r t s , no matter how strong, are doomed t o f a i l u r e . . — he does, however, begin t o see o t h e r p o s s i b i l i t i e s , b e s i d e s complete f a i l u r e and death, f o r h i s p r o t a g o n i s t s , h i s f i c t i o n a l a l t e r - e g o s . One c r i t i c d e s c r i b e s 'the d i a l o g u e of the absurd', a phrase which comes c l o s e to d e s c r i b i n g the f e e l i n g of Greene's l a t e r n o v e l s , as: " . . . an open-minded and courageous standing one's ground b e f o r e a world which man cannot image and t o which he can a s c r i b e no independent, o b j e c t i v e meaning." I t i s t h i s t r a n s f o r m a t i o n , from man as t r a g i c and doomed t o man as absurd y e t r e s i l i e n t , t h a t i s the f i n a l development of the Greene hero; and b e f o r e ending t h i s essay I would l i k e t o touch b r i e f l y on t h i s development. In h i s book Problematic Rebel, Maurice Friedman, i n a s e c t i o n e n t i t l e d "A Depth-Image of Modern Man", t a l k s of a t r a n s f o r m a t i o n he sees i n the modern concept of the hero — from the modern Promethean t o the modern Job: For modern man meaning i s not a c c e s s i b l e e i t h e r through the a n c i e n t Prometheanism t h a t extends man 1s realm i n an ordered cosmos or through the Renaissance Promethean-ism t h a t makes man a l i t t l e world t h a t 133 r e f l e c t s the g r e a t . S t i l l l e s s i s i t a c c e s s i b l e through the Modern Prometheanism t h a t d e f i e s what i s over a g a i n s t man w h i l e s t r i v i n g a t the same time t o c o n t r o l , sub-due, or d e s t r o y i t , as Ahab s t r i v e s t o d e s t r o y Moby Dick. Today, meaning can be found, i f a t a l l , o n l y through the a t t i t u d e of the man who i s w i l l i n g t o l i v e w i t h the absurd, to remain open t o the mystery which he can never hope t o p i n down. In the world of "the plague" no room i s l e f t f o r the s e l f -d e i f y i n g postures of a Faust, an Ahab, or a Z a r a t h u s t r a . Greene's f i c t i o n from The Man W i t h i n t o The Heart of the  Matter i s concerned l a r g e l y w i t h the c r e a t i o n of the t r a g i c hero, an i n d i v i d u a l who has enough scope and power t o e x e r t h i s own w i l l on the formation of h i s d e s t i n y , who i s not merely a v i c t i m of a h o s t i l e world but a man whose p r i n c i p l e s remain even though the gap between h i s p r i n c i p l e s and the c o r r u p t i o n and d e s t r u c t i o n of' the world o u t s i d e b r i n g about h i s death. Scobie, although he i s f a r from 'Promethean', i s a g e n u i n e l y t r a g i c f i g u r e , a v i c t i m of h i s own s e l f - c r e a t e d flaw — h i s misguided sense of p i t y . Although Scobie i s a f a r more f u l l y r e a l i z e d c h a r a c t e r than P i n k i e , who i s s t i l l more v i c t i m i z e d than t r a g i c , they do share f i n a l l y the same d e s p a i r . L i k e P i n k i e , Scobie cannot f a c e the compromises, the s h i f t i n g a l l e g i a n c e s , the e t e r n a l m i s t r u s t of human e x i s t e n c e , and l i k e the l i e u t e n a n t of The Power and the G l o r y , and P i n k i e , Scobie shares both the a s c e t i c i s m and f a t a l i s m t h a t d r i v e s both of the l e s s e r c h a r a c t e r s to d e s p a i r -- the f a t a l i s m t h a t r e s u l t s from the i s o l a t i o n and a l i e n a t i o n of the p r o t a g o n i s t whose egotism convinces him t h a t he should 134 c o n t r o l h i s w i l l and deaden h i s t r u e emotional response, e i t h e r through v i o l e n c e , hollow humanitarianism, or p i t y . None of the three above-mentioned c h a r a c t e r s are capable of l o v e ; although Scobie t r i e s d e s p e r a t e l y t o l o v e , he i s o n l y capable of a much more s e l f i s h emotion — p i t y . The new hero t h a t one sees emerging i n Greene's l a t e r books, however, does seem capable of love and some k i n d of commitment to l i f e . Perhaps K i e r k e g a a r d i a n i n h i s a b i l i t y t o make the leap of f a i t h , t o b e l i e v e t h a t t h e r e i s some meaning i n l i f e t h a t one can reach, the new hero above a l l s u r v i v e s , and does not t o t a l l y d e s p a i r . Maurice Friedman, u s i n g the hero of Camus' no v e l La Peste as an example, w r i t e s about a s i m i l a r k i n d of hero whom he c a l l s the 'Modern Job', i n many ways a s i m i l a r f i g u r e t o R.W.B. Lewis' 'picaresque s a i n t ' ; he w r i t e s : Rieux, the p r o t a g o n i s t of Camus' La Peste, even w h i l e he accepts the never ending s t r u g g l e with the plague as the i n e s c a p e -a b l e human c o n d i t i o n , a l s o a f f i r m s t h a t some meaning may emerge from t h a t s t r u g g l e . Standing one's ground b e f o r e what con-f r o n t s one r a t h e r than g i v i n g way b e f o r e i t or t r y i n g t o escape i t mark the Modern. Job as much as they do the o r i g i n a l one. The whiskey p r i e s t , r e a l i z i n g the a b s u r d i t y of h i s own s e l f and p o s i t i o n , y e t capable of love and self-mockery, i s a glimpse of the new hero who emerges more f u l l y a f t e r Scobie, who r e a l i z e s , perhaps o n l y u n c o n s c i o u s l y , " . . . t h a t he must 15 have f a i l e d some way i n manhood." Bendrix, the p r o t a g o n i s t of The End of the A f f a i r , who through most of the n o v e l rages 135 a g a i n s t the God who has s t o l e n Sarah, the onl y woman he has ever been able t o l o v e , becomes towards the end of the novel capable of a k i n d of understanding, both of Sarah, and him-s e l f , and perhaps of God's motives as w e l l , and although Bendrix d e s c r i b e s h i s n a r r a t i o n as: " . . . a r e c o r d of hate 16 f a r more than of love . . . " even Scobie r e a l i z e s t h a t : 17 " . . . love was the wish t o understand." In the c h a r a c t e r of Bendrix one begins t o see the t r a n s f o r m a t i o n t h a t occurs i n the l a t e r Greene hero, from a man whose t r a g i c egotism makes h i s i n c a p a b l e of lov e t o a man who begins t o understand the mystery o f lov e i n the v o i d , who r e a l i z e s t h a t God, who seems to be h i s enemy, i s a c t u a l l y attempting t o f o r c e him t o l e a r n how to lov e -- something Scobie's d e s p a i r blocked completely. Bendrix, as n a r r a t o r , w r i t e s i n the c l o s i n g paragraph of the no v e l : I wrote at the s t a r t t h a t t h i s was a r e -cord of hate, and walking t h e r e beside Henry towards the evening g l a s s of beer, I found the one prayer t h a t seemed t o serve the w i n t e r mood: 0 God, You've done enough, You've robbed me of enough, I'm too t i r e d and o l d t o l e a r n t o l o v e , leave me alone f o r e v e r . x 8 L e a r n i n g how t o l o v e i s perhaps the most d i f f i c u l t t h i n g of a l l f o r the Greene hero, y e t Greene r e a l i z e s t h a t l o v e , between both man and woman and man and h i s God, sparks both f a i t h i n and commitment t o l i f e i t s e l f . I t i s out of commit-ment t h a t f a i t h a r i s e s , and o n l y i n f a i t h and t r u s t can love e x i s t . As Dr. Magiot, a p i v o t a l f i g u r e i n The Comedians, 136 w r i t e s i n a l e t t e r t o Brown, the n a r r a t o r of the book who f i n a l l y commits h i m s e l f t o the r e v o l u t i o n a r y f o r c e s a g a i n s t Papa Doc i n H a i t i : C a t h o l i c s and Communists have committed g r e a t crimes, but a t l e a s t they have not stood a s i d e , l i k e an e s t a b l i s h e d s o c i e t y , and been i n d i f f e r e n t . I would r a t h e r have blood on my hands t h a t water l i k e P i l a t e . . . I f you have abandoned one f a i t h , do not abandon a l l f a i t h . There i s always an a l t e r n a t i v e t o the f a i t h we l o s e . O r , i s i t the same f a i t h under another mask? Greene's l a t e r c h a r a c t e r s , Bendrix, Querry, Fowler, Brown, although completely aware of the harshness and a b s u r d i t y of l i f e , do begin to understand the meaning of f a i t h : even i f they cannot have complete f a i t h i n l i f e , they do r e a l i z e t h a t l o s s of f a i t h l e a d s t o d e s p a i r and a l i e n a t i o n , t o the b u r n t -out case, t o the comedian whose commitment to nothing s i g n i -f i e s the death of the i n n e r s e l f . Yet these l a t e r heroes w i l l not make martyrs of themselves. Theyaare committed above a l l t o l i f e , not to the g l o r i o u s vacuum of death t h a t a t t r a c t e d so many of the haunted, f r i g h t e n e d shadows of Greene's e a r l i e r n o v e l s . Greene h i m s e l f , i n h i s own t r a n s i t i o n from youth t o age, seems t o develop as a human being much l i k e h i s s u c c e s s i v e p r o t a g o n i s t s do, from the romantic d e s p e r a t i o n of F r a n c i s Andrews through to the aware ' r e a l i s m ' of a c h a r a c t e r l i k e Fowler i n The Quiet American or the i n d i v i d u a l i s t i c i n t e g r i t y of Brown i n The Comedians. Greene a l s o , s i g n i f i c a n t l y , develops a sense of humour: both Our Man i n Havana and 137 T r a v e l s With My Aunt r e v e a l a f a c e t of Greene not o f t e n seen, a s a r d o n i c , w i t t y l i g h t h e a r t e d n e s s t h a t can onl y come from the r e c o g n i t i o n t h a t l i f e i s not n e c e s s a r i l y t r a g i c or h o r r i f i c , but absurd, and i t i s from t h i s r e c o g n i t i o n of l i f e ' s a b s u r d i t y t h a t Greene can c r e a t e the k i n d of s i t u a t i o n t h a t Wormold i s thrown i n t o i n Our Man i n Havana. Greene's w r i t i n g s taken as a whole, hovever, can be seen as one man's e x p l o r a t i o n of h i m s e l f and the way i n which he p e r c e i v e s the world. As he w r i t e s i n h i s a u t o b i o g r a p h i c a l book A S o r t of L i f e : And the motive f o r r e c o r d i n g these scraps of the past? I t i s much the same motive t h a t has made me a n o v e l i s t : a d e s i r e t o reduce a chaos of experience t o some sor£g of order, and a hungry c u r i o s i t y . . . . Greene's o b s e s s i o n w i t h the p a s t , w i t h the traumatic c h i l d -hood years which form the a d u l t mind, with the world of dreams — "Dreams have always had an importance f o r me. Two novels and 21 s e v e r a l s h o r t s t o r i e s have emerged from my dreams . . . " are a l l important aspects of one whole: the search f o r an understanding of Greene h i m s e l f as a human being, and perhaps from t h e r e an understanding of the world around him. He uses some words of Kierkegaard's to stand as an epigraph f o r h i s most nakedly p e r s o n a l book, A Sort o f L i f e : "Only robbers and g y p s i e s 22 say t h a t one must never r e t u r n where one has once been." Per-haps another f i t t i n g e p i graph would have been from T. S. E l i o t ' s " L i t t l e G i d d i n g " : We s h a l l not cease from e x p l o r a t i o n And the end of a l l our e x p l o r i n g W i l l be t o a r r i v e where we s t a r t e d And know the p l a c e f o r the f i r s t time. 139 FOOTNOTES CHAPTER ONE Graham Greene, I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d (London: Heinemann, 1934), p. 171. 2 Graham Greene, The Man W i t h i n (London: Heinemann, 1929), f r o n t i s p i e c e . 3 . . . David Pryce-Jones, Graham Greene, W r i t e r s and C r i t i c s S e r i e s , e d i t e d by A. Norman J e f f a r e s (London: O l i v e r and Boyd, 1963), p. 3. 4 The Man W i t h i n , p. 17. 5 I b i d . , P. 36. 6 I b i d . , P- 4. 7 I b i d . , P- 17. 8 I b i d . , P- 56. 9 I b i d . , P- 53. 1 0 Pryce -Jones, p. 1 1 The Man W i t h i n , I b i d . , P- 225. 13 ., I b i d . / P. 105. 14 I b i d . / P. 185. 1 5 I b i d . / P- 184 1 6 I b i d . / P. 50. 140 1 7 I b i d . , p. 245. 18 P h i l i p S t r a t f o r d , F a i t h and F i c t i o n : C r e a t i v e Process  i n Greene and Mauriac ( U n i v e r s i t y of Notre Dame Pr e s s , 1964), p. 119. 19 Graham Greene, Stamboul T r a i n (Harmondsworth, Middle-sex: ' Penguin Books^, 1932), p. 19. 20 T. S. E l i o t , "The Waste Land", i n The Norton Anthology  of E n g l i s h L i t e r a t u r e , Volume I I , e d i t e d by M. H. Abrams (New York: W. W. Norton, 1962), p. 1789, 11. 209-14. 21 Stamboul T r a i n , p. 127. 2 2 I b i d . , p. 99. 2 3 I b i d . , p. 128-9. 24 I b i d . , p. 173. 2 5 I b i d . , p. 191. 2 6 A l l o t t and F a r r i s , p. 84. 27 Pryce-Jones, p. 17. 2 8 I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d , p. 30. 29 John A t k i n s , Graham Greene (London: C a l d e r and Boyars, 1957), p. 79. 3 0 I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d , p. 25 31 Graham Greene, B r i g h t o n Rock (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1938), p. 234. 32 I b i d . , p. 153. 3 3 I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d , p. 31. 34 M a r i e - B e a t r i c e Mesnet, Graham Greene and The Heart of  the Matter (London: C r e s s e t P r e s s , 1954), p. 46-7. 3 5 I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d , p. 29. 3 ^ I b i d . , p. 206. 3 7 I b i d . , p. 184. 3 8 I b i d . , p. 47-8. I b i d . , P- 15. I b i d . , P- 105. I b i d . , P- 112. I b i d . , P- 113. 141 3 9 I t ' s a B a t t l e f i e l d , p. 98. 40 I b i d . , p. 220. 41 I b i d . , p. 230. 42 Graham Greene, England Made Me (Harmondsworth, Middle-sex: Penguin Books, 1935), p. 15. 43 44 45 46 47 C h a r l e s B a u d e l a i r e , Flowers of E v i l and Other Works, e d i t e d and t r a n s l a t e d by Wallace Fowlie (New York: Bantam, 1954), p. 19, 11. 1-4. 48 A l l o t t and F a r r i s , p. 15. 49 England Made Me, p. 11. 5 0 I b i d . , p. 194. 5 1 I b i d . , p. 205. 52 Graham Greene, "At Home", C o l l e c t e d Essays (Harmonds-worth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1969), p. 334. 5 3 S t r a t f o r d , p. 192. 54 Pryce-Jones, p. 26. CHAPTER TWO Walter A l l e n , T r a d i t i o n and Dream (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1965), p. 223. 2 Northrop Frye, The Modern Century (Toronto: Oxford U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1967), p. 23. 3 Graham Greene, A Gun f o r Sal e (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1936), p. 8. 4 I b i d . , p. 12. 142 5 I b i d . , P- 30. 6 I b i d . , P- 30. 7 I b i d . , P- 38. 8 I b i d . , P- 48. 9 I b i d . , P- 56. I b i d . , P. 101. I b i d . , P- 120. 12 T U - ^ I b i d . f P. 124. 1 3 I b i d . / P. 129. I 4 TWA I b i d . / P- 132. I b i d . / P- 174. 16 I b i d . / P- 179. 17 Harvey C u r t i s i n Graham Greene, e d i t e d by Robert 0. Evans ( U n i v e r s i t y of Kentucky P r e s s , 1963), p. 12. 18 19 20 21 A Gun f o r S a l e , p. 153. I b i d . , p. 17 3. A l l e n , p. 224. A. A. De V i t i s , Graham Greene, Twayne's E n g l i s h Authors S e r i e s , e d i t e d by S y l v i a Bowman (New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1964), p. 80-1. 22 Jean-Paul S a r t r e , B a u d e l a i r e (New York: New D i r e c t i o n s , 1960), p. 20. 23 24 25 26 I b i d . , p. 30. B r i g h t o n Rock, p. 234. I b i d . , p. 225. I b i d . , p. 201. 27 I b i d . , p. 53-4 143 2 8 I b i d . , p. 128. 29 I b i d . , p. 152. 3 0 I b i d . , p. 128. 3 1 A l l e n , p. 226. 32 B r i g h t o n Rock, p. 148. 3 3 C h a r l e s Pe'guy, B a s i c V e r i t i e s , e d i t e d and t r a n s l a t e d by Anne and J u l i a n Green (New York: Pantheon Books, 1943), p. 181-3. 34 T. S. E l i o t , " B a u d e l a i r e " , S e l e c t e d Essays (London: Faber and Faber, 1932), p. 429. 35 Graham Greene, The Heart of the Matter (Harmonds-worth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1948), p. 251. 36 B r i g h t o n Rock, p. 212. 37 I b i d . , p. 212. 38 I b i d . , p. 222. 39 I b i d . , p. 89. 40 I b i d . , p. 135. 41 I b i d . , p. 167. 42 I b i d . , p. 92. 43 I b i d . , p. 93. 44 A Gun f o r S a l e , p. 172 45 I b i d . , p. 174. 46 B r i g h t o n Rock, p. 182. 47 I b i d . , p. 190. 48 I b i d . , p. 209. 49 I b i d . , p. 230. 50 I b i d . , p. 221. 51 I b i d . , p. 221. 144 I b i d . , P- 179. I b i d . , P- 250. I b i d . , P- 242. I b i d . , P- 249. A l l o t t and F a r r i s , p. 15. A t k i n s , p. 63. B r i g h t o n Rock, p. 245. A t k i n s , p. 49. I b i d . , p. 78-9. CHAPTER THREE Richard K o s t e l a n e t z and Jonathan C o t t , "Jean Genet", i n On Contemporary L i t e r a t u r e , e d i t e d by R. K o s t e l a n e t z (New York: Avon Books, 1969), p. 347. 2 Pryce-Jones, p. 14. 3 Graham Greene, A So r t of L i f e (London: The Bodley Head, 1971) , p. 12'6. 4 T. S. E l i o t , "The Waste Land", 11. 339-42. 5 Graham Greene, I n t r o d u c t i o n t o the C o l l e c t e d Works  E d i t i o n of the Power and the G l o r y , reproduced by The Vancouver  Sun, J u l y 30, 1971, p. 29. A l b e r t Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus (New York: Vintage Books, 1958), p. 16. 7 Maurice Friedman, The P r o b l e m a t i c Rebel (Chicago: U n i v e r s i t y of Chicago P r e s s , 1970), p. 449. 8 A S o r t of L i f e , p. 202. 9 I b i d . , p. 72. I b i d . , p. 9. 145 1 ^ Graham Greene, "The v i r t u e of D i s l o y a l t y " , an address g i v e n by the author upon the acceptance of the Shakespeare P r i z e i n Hamburg, r e p r i n t e d by The Vancouver Sun, January 13, 1973, p. 31. 12 Graham Greene, Journey Without Maps (London: Heine-mann, 1936), p. 278. 13 Graham Greene, "The P r i v a t e Universe", Henry James: A C o l l e c t i o n of C r i t i c a l Essays, e d i t e d by Leon E d e l (New J e r s e y : V i n t a g e , 1963), p. 111. 14 I b i d . , p. 111. 15 Graham Greene, "The L o s t Childhood", C o l l e c t e d Essays (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1969), p. 17. 16 "The P r i v a t e U n i v e r s e " , p. 116. 17 I b i d . , p. 117. 18 Graham Greene, The Power and the G l o r y (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1940), p. 7. 19 I b i d . , p. 11. 20 I b i d . , p. 11-2. 21 A So r t o f L i f e , p. 11. 22 The Power and the G l o r y , p. 9. 23 I b i d . , p. 16. 2 4 I b i d . , p. 17. 2 5 I b i d . , p. 19. 2 6 I n t r o d u c t i o n t o the C o l l e c t e d E d i t i o n of The Power  and the G l o r y , p. 29. 27 The Power and the G l o r y , p. 14. 2 8 I b i d . , p. 10. 29 I b i d . , p. 22. 3 0 I b i d . , p. 24-5. 31 I b i d . , p. 25. 32 I n t r o d u c t i o n to the C o l l e c t e d Works E d i t i o n of The Power and the G l o r y , p. 29. 33 The Power and the G l o r y , p. 13 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 I b i d . I b i d . I b i d . I b i d . I b i d . I b i d . I b i d . I b i d . I b i d , I b i d . P-P< P-P-P-P-P. P-P-P-13. 18. 28. 29. 30. 32-3, 38. 33. 141. 169. Mesnet, p. 46-7. The Power and the G l o r y , p. 176, I b i d . , p. 63-4. R. W. B. Lewis, The Picaresque S a i n t ( P h i l a d e l p h i a L i p p i n c o t t , 1956), p. 32. 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 The Power and the G l o r y , p. 60, I b i d . , P- 63 . I b i d . , P- 62. I b i d . , P- 71. I b i d . , P- 76. I b i d . , P- 78-9. I b i d . , P- 87. I b i d . , P- 99. I b i d . , P- 97. 147 57 I b i d . , P- 101. 58 I b i d . , P- 102. 59 I b i d . , P- 132. 60 Ibidi; , P- 135. 61 I b i d . , P- 126. 62 I b i d . , P- 125. 63 64 I b i d . , I b i d . , P-P-169. 210. 6 5 Graham 1943), p. Greene, 30-1. 66 The Power and 67 I b i d . , P- 207. 68 I b i d . , P- 210. 69 Lewis, P- 28. 70 David H. He s l a , " T h e o l o g i c a l Ambiguity i n the ' C a t h o l i c Novels'", i n Graham Greene, e d i t e d by Robert 0. Evans (Univer-s i t y o f Kentucky P r e s s , 1963), p. 101-3. 71 I n t r o d u c t i o n t o the C o l l e c t e d Works E d i t i o n of The Heart of the Matter, as r e p r i n t e d by The Vancouver Sun, August 6, 1971. 72 F r a n c i s Wyndham, Graham Greene (London: Longmans, Green, 1962), p. 18. 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 The M i n i s t r y o f Fear, p. 131. I b i d . , p. 263. I b i d . , p. 206. I b i d . , p. 83. I b i d . , p. 29. I b i d . , p. 44. The Heart of the Matter, p. 152. 148 80 I b i d . , P- 15. 81 I b i d . , P- 128. 82 I b i d . , P- 224. 83 I b i d . , P. 21. 84 I b i d . , P- 91. 85 The M i n i s t r y of Fear, p 86 The Heart of the Matter 87 I b i d . , P- 53. 88 I b i d . , P- 52. 89 I b i d . , P- 58-9. 90 I b i d . , P- 89. 91 I b i d . , P- 233. 92 I b i d . , P- 154. 93 I b i d . , P- 210. 94 I b i d . , P- 210. 95 I b i d . , P- 214-5. 96 I b i d . , P- 214. 97 I b i d . , P- 89. 98 I b i d . , P- 182. 99 Camus, P- 3. 100 101 102 De V i t i s , p. 103. A t k i n s , p. 166. U. Markovic, The Changing Face: D i s i n t e g r a t i o n of  P e r s o n a l i t y i n the Twentieth Century B r i t i s h Novel, 1900-1950 (Carbondale: Southern I l l i n o i s U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1970), p. 93-4. 103 I n t r o d u c t i o n t o the C o l l e c t e d Works E d i t i o n of The Heart of the Matter, p. 30A. 149 1 0 4 The Heart of the Matter, p. 250. 105 U D I b i d . , p. 250. I b i d . , p. 251. CHAPTER FOUR 1 Graham Greene, " F r a n c o i s Mauriac", C o l l e c t e d Essays, p. 91. 2 I b i d . , p. 92. 3 "The P r i v a t e U n i v e r s e " , Henry James, p. 121. 4 "The L o s t Childhood", C o l l e c t e d Essays, p. 17. 5 J . F. Kermode, "Mr. Greene's Eggs and Crosses", i n P u z z l e s and Epiphanies (New York: Chilmark P r e s s , 1962), p. 181. W i l l i a m Faulkner -- t h i s quote i s taken from the back cover of the Penguin e d i t i o n of The End of the A f f a i r . 7 L e s l i e F i e d l e r , "No! In Thunder", i n Themes i n American  L i t e r a t u r e , e d i t e d by Genthe and K e i t h l e y (Toronto: Heath and Company, 1972), p. 537. g I b i d . , p. 537. 9 Camus, p. 21. "1"0 F i e d l e r , p. 546. K o s t e l a n e t z and C o t t , p. 364. 12 Maurice Friedman, The Problematic Rebel (Chicago: U n i v e r s i t y of Chicago P r e s s , 1970), p. 452. 1 3 I b i d . , p. 490. 1 4 I b i d . , p. 486. 15 The Heart of the Matter, p. 45. 16 Graham Greene, The End of the A f f a i r (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1951),' p. 7. 150 1 7 The Heart of the Matter, p. 245. 1 8 The End of the A f f a i r , p. 187. 19 Graham Greene, The Comedians (Harmondsworth, M i d d l e -sex: Penguin Books, 1966), p. 286. 2 0 A S o r t of L i f e , p. 9. 21 I b i d . , p. 30. 22 I b i d . , f r o n t i s p i e c e . 23 T. S. E l i o t , " L i t t l e G i d d i n g " , Four Quartets (London: Faber and Faber, 1944), p. 59, 11. 239-42. 151 BIBLIOGRAPHY A l l e n , W. Gore. "Another View of Graham Greene," C a t h o l i c  World, CLXIX ( A p r i l 1949), 69-70. . "Evelyn Waugh and Graham Greene," I r i s h Monthly, LXXVII (January 1949), 16-22. A l l e n , Walter. "Awareness of E v i l : Graham Greene," N a t i o n , CLXXXII ( A p r i l 21, 1957), 344-346. . The E n g l i s h Novel. Harmondsworth, M i d d l e -sex: Penguin, 1954. . T r a d i t i o n and Dream. Harmondsworth, Mid d l e -sex: Penguin, 1965. A l l o t t , Kenneth and Miriam F a r r i s . The A r t of Graham Greene. New York: R u s s e l l and R u s s e l l , 1963. A t k i n s , John. Graham Greene. London: C a l d e r and Boyars, 1957. B a r r e t t , W i l l i a m . I r r a t i o n a l Man: A Study i n E x i s t e n t i a l i s t  P h ilosophy. New York: Doubleday, 1958. B a u d e l a i r e , C h a r l e s . Flowers of E v i l and Other Works. E d i t e d and t r a n s l a t e d by Wallace F o w l i e . New York: Bantam Books, 1954. Beary, Thomas John. " R e l i g i o n and the Modern Novel," C a t h o l i c  World, CLXVI (December 1947) , 203-211. Boardman, Gwenn R. Graham Greene: The A e s t h e t i c s of E x p l o r a -t i o n . G a i n s v i l l e : U n i v e r s i t y of F l o r i d a P r e s s , 1971. Braybrooke, N e v i l l e . "Graham Greene: A Pioneer N o v e l i s t , " C o l l e g e E n g l i s h , XII (October 1950), 1-9. 152 . "Graham Greene and the Double Man: An Approach t o The End of the A f f a i r , " D u b l i n Review, CCXXVI ( F i r s t Quarter 1952), 61-73. C a l d e r - M a r s h a l l , A r t h u r . "The Works of Graham Greene," Horizon, I (May 1940), 367-375. Camus, A l b e r t . The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays. New York: Vintage Books, 1958. Cargas, Harry J . , ed. Graham Greene. The C h r i s t i a n C r i t i c S e r i e s . S t . L o u i s : Herder, 1969. C a s s i d y , John. "America and Innocence: Henry James and Graham Greene," B l a c k f r i a r s , XXXVIII (June 1957), 261-267. Church, Richard. "Graham Greene," B r i t i s h Authors. London: Longmans, 1948, 137-140. De V i t i s , A. A. Graham Greene. Twayne 1s E n g l i s h Authors S e r i e s . New York: G r o s s e t t and Dunlap, 1964. Doyle, L. F. "Graham Greene as M o r a l i s t , " America, XCI (September 18, 1954), 604. Duffy, Joseph M., J r . "The L o s t World of Graham Greene," Thought, XXXIII (Summer 1958), 229-247. E l i o t , T. S. Four Quartets. London: Faber and Faber, 1944. . " B a u d e l a i r e . " S e l e c t e d Essays. London: Faber and Faber, 1932. E l l i s , W i l l i a m D., J r . "The Grand Theme of Graham Greene," Southwest Review, XLI (Summer 1956), 239-250. Evans, Robert 0. " E x i s t e n t i a l i s m i n Graham Greene's The Quiet American," Modern F i c t i o n S t u d i e s , I I I (Autumn 1957), 241-248. , ed. Graham Greene: Some C r i t i c a l C o n s i d e r a - t i o n s . Lexington: U n i v e r s i t y of Kentucky P r e s s , 1963. F i e d l e r , L e s l i e . "No! In Thunder." Themes i n American L i t e r a -t u r e , ed. G e n t t i e and K e i t h l e y . Toronto: Heath and Company, 1972. F r a s e r , G. S. The Modern W r i t e r and His World. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1953. 153 Friedman, Maurice. The Problematic Rebel. Chicago: U n i v e r s i t y of Chicago P r e s s , 1970. Fr y e , Northrop. Anatomy of C r i t i c i s m . New York: P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1957. . The Modern Century. Toronto: Oxford U n i v e r -s i t y P r e s s , 1967. G l i c k s b e r g , C h a r l e s I. "Graham Greene: C a t h o l i c i s m i n F i c t i o n , " C r i t i c i s m , I ( F a l l . 1 9 5 9 ) , 339-353. G r a f f , H i l d a . "Graham Greene," Modern Gloom and C h r i s t i a n  Hope. Chicago: Regnery, 1959, pp. 84-97. Greene, Graham. C o l l e c t e d Essays. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1969. . In Search of a C h a r a c t e r : Two A f r i c a n J o u r -n a l s . Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 19 61. • Journey Without Maps. London: Heinemann, 193 6. The Lawless Roads. Harmondsworth, Mid d l e -sex: Penguin Books, 193 9. . A Sor t of L i f e . London: The Bodley Head, 1971. Grubbs, Henry A. " A l b e r t Camus and Graham Greene," Modern  Language Q u a r t e r l y , X (March 1949), 33-42. Haber, Herbert R. "The Two Worlds of Graham Greene," Modern  F i c t i o n S t u d i e s , I I I (Autumn 1957), 256-268. H a l l , James. " E f f i c i e n t S a i n t s and C i v i l i a n s : Graham Greene," The L u n a t i c Giant i n the Drawing Room: The B r i t i s h and  American Novel Since 1930. Bloomington: Indiana U n i v e r -s i t y P r e s s , 1968, pp. 111-123. Hoggart, R i c h a r d . "The Force o f C a r i c a t u r e : Aspects of the A r t o f Graham Greene, w i t h P a r t i c u l a r Reference t o The  Power and the Glory," Essays i n C r i t i c i s m , 1 ' I I I (October 1953), 447-462. Hortmann, Wilhelm. "Graham Greene: The Burnt-Out C a t h o l i c , " Twentieth Century L i t e r a t u r e , X (1964), 64-76. Jones, Grahame C. "Graham Greene and the Legend of Peguy," Comparative L i t e r a t u r e 21 (1959), 139-145. 154 Jones, James Land. "Graham Greene and the S t r u c t u r e of the Moral Imagination," Phoenix, No. 2 (1966), pp. 34-56. K a r l , F. R. "Graham Greene's Demoniacal Heroes." The Contemporary E n g l i s h Novel. New York: F a r r a r , S t r a u s s and Company, 1962, pp. 85-106. Kermode, Frank. "Mr. Greene's Eggs and Crosses." P u z z l e s  and E p i p h a n i e s . New York: Chilmark P r e s s , 1962. . "The House of F i c t i o n : Interview w i t h Seven E n g l i s h N o v e l i s t s , " P a r t i s a n Review, XXX (Spring 1963), 61-82. K e t t l e , A r n o l d . An I n t r o d u c t i o n t o the E n g l i s h Novel. Volume I I . New York: Harper and Row, 1951. King, James. "In the Boyhood of Judas: Graham Greene's E a r l y Novels of H e l l , " Dalhousie Review, 49 (1969), 229-236. Knipp, Thomas R. "Gide and Greene: A f r i c a and the L i t e r a r y Imagination," The S e r i f , 6 (1969), i i : 3-14. K o s t e l a n e t z , Richard and Jonathan C o t t . Qn Contemporary L i t e r a -t u r e . New York: Avon Books, 1969. Kunkel, F r a n c i s Leo. The L a b y r i n t h i n e Ways of Graham Greene. New York: Sheed and Ward, 1959. Lewis, R.W.B. "The F i c t i o n of Graham Greene: Between the Horror and the G l o r y , " Kenyon Review, XIX (Winter 1957), 56-75. . "The ' T r i l o g y ' of Graham Greene," Modern F i c t i o n S t u d i e s , I I I (Autumn 1957), 195-215. . "Graham Greene: The R e l i g i o u s A f f a i r , " The Picaresque S a i n t : R e p r e s e n t a t i v e F i g u r e s i n Con-temporary F i c t i o n . P h i l a d e l p h i a and New York: L i p p i n -c o t t , 1959, pp. 220-274. Lodge, David. Graham Greene. Columbia Essays on Modern W r i t e r s , 17. New York: Columbia U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1966. . "Graham Greene's Comedians," Commonweal, LXXXIII (1969), 604-606. MacSween, R. J . " E x i l e d from the Garden: Graham Greene," A n t i g o n i s h Review, I (1970), i i : 41-48. Markovic, U. The Changing Face: D i s i n t e g r a t i o n of P e r s o n a l -i t y i n the Twentieth Century B r i t i s h Novel, 1900-1950. Carbondale: Southern I l l i n o i s U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1970. 155 Mauriac, F r a n c o i s . "Graham Greene." Great Men. London: R o c k l i f f , 1952, pp. 117-121. Mesnet, M a r i a - B e a t r i c e . Graham Greene and The Heart of the  Matter. London: C r e s s e t P r e s s , 1954. M u e l l e r , W. R. "Theme of Love: Graham Greene's The Heart of the Matter," The P r o p h e t i c V o i c e i n Modern F i c t i o n . New York: A s s o c i a t i o n P r e s s , 1959, pp. 136-157. O' F a o l a i n , Sean. "Graham Greene: I S u f f e r ; T h e r e f o r e , I Am," The V a n i s h i n g Hero: S t u d i e s i n N o v e l i s t s of the Twenties. London: Eyre and Spottiswoods, 1956, pp. 73-97. Patten, K a r l . "The S t r u c t u r e of The Power and the G l o r y , " Modern F i c t i o n S t u d i e s , I I I (Autumn 1957), 225-234. Peckham, Morse. Man's Rage f o r Chaos: B i o l o g y , Behaviour, and the A r t s . P h i l a d e l p h i a : C h i l t o n Books, 1965. Peguy, C h a r l e s . B a s i c V e r i t i e s . E d i t e d and t r a n s l a t e d by Anne and J u l i a n Green. New York: Pantheon Books, 1943. P u e n t e v e l l a , Renato. "Ambiguity i n Greene," Renascence, XII (1959), 35-37. Pryce-Jones, David. Graham Greene. W r i t e r s and C r i t i c s S e r i e s . E d i t e d by A. Norman J e f f a r e s . London: O l i v e r and Boyd, 1963. S a r t r e , Jean-Paul. B a u d e l a i r e . New York: New D i r e c t i o n s , I960. S p i e r , U r s u l a . 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"The Q u a l i t y of Graham Greene's Mercy," C o l l e g e E n g l i s h , XXV (1963), 99-103. Wi l s h e r e , A. D. " C o n f l i c t and C o n c i l i a t i o n i n Graham Greene," Essays and S t u d i e s by Members of the E n g l i s h A s s o c i a t i o n , XIX (1966), 122-137. Wolfe, P e t e r . Graham Greene: The E n t e r t a i n e r . C r o s s c u r r e n t s : Modern C r i t i q u e s . Carbondale: Southern I l l i n o i s U n i v e r -s i t y P r e s s , 1972. Woodcock, George. "Graham Greene." The W r i t e r and P o l i t i c s . London: Porcupine P r e s s , 1948, pp. 125-153. Wyndham, F r a n c i s . Graham Greene. London: Longmans Green, 1962. Zabel, M. D. "Graham Greene: The Best and the Worst," C r a f t  and Character i n Modern F i c t i o n . New York: V i k i n g , 1957, pp. 276-296. 

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