Page 9 of Orpheus Emerged


  about it, I mean your affair with Marie in

  the Quarter…”

  Michael seemed startled.

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 157

  “Our friend Julius happened to see you

  there a few days ago, well … and he told me

  about it.”

  Smiling nervously, Michael motioned

  Arthur to sit on the bed; then he shrugged his

  shoulders wearily. “I suppose everyone will

  know in time.”

  “And moreover,” Arthur went on, “Paul is

  back. He’s been away for a spell himself. I

  saw him just now with Leo in the campus

  park.”

  Michael didn’t say anything. Quite irrele-

  vantly, he raised his eyebrows and said, “I

  don’t care who finds out about Marie and me.

  I don’t care at all what happens. What have

  you been doing, Arthur?” Michael extin-

  guished his cigarette in the ashtray on the

  arm of the chair. He looked very gloomy.

  “I’ve been thinking something out,” Arthur

  said, making himself comfortable on the bed,

  propping a pillow under his arm and leaning

  on his elbow. “I want your opinion on these

  matters. I’ve prepared a sort of manifesto,

  let’s say, or an essay of a sort. It’s on the sub-

  ject of the artist…”

  “That’s a nonsensical pursuit,” smiled

  Michael.

  “Not theoretically.

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 158

  You must admit

  that much of

  modern thought

  is centered

  around the

  problem of the

  artist and

  society, of

  the artist and

  himself

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 159

  —as in Rimbaud, for instance, in his case…”

  “Yes, I know,” admitted Michael discon-

  solately, “but so many artists are preoccu-

  pied with the question, they can’t find time

  to create.”

  “One sometimes has to clear the decks.

  Wagner spent years arranging his intellectual system before he could compose.

  Clearly, also, it is one of the central absorp-

  tions of Thomas Mann.”

  “I admit that.”

  “Look, Michael…” and Arthur extracted

  a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Here I’ve

  worked out a symbolism, a modern one that

  is…ah, applicable to my system. It’s

  Prometheus! The artist, Prometheus,

  steals fire from the gods—the fire, the

  secret, of creation—and brings it down to

  earth. I admit of course that none of this is

  original. Rimbaud secured an idea much like it from Ballanche, and I, of course, from

  Rimbaud. Now you see the system implies

  much that is Cabalistic, in a sense: you

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 160

  know, to stand on the threshold of vegetable life

  facing God and sharing his secrets, as in Blake

  also. You! You, for instance, fit into the symbol-

  ism—as Prometheus, the thief of divine fire.

  I’ve read your poetry. In it, I find that you are

  attempting to speak with the impulse of

  God…in that poem ‘Morphina’ for instance.

  I’m beginning to see what you’re after, but I

  have here something further for you…”

  “I Prometheus?” asked Michael almost

  angrily.

  “As a symbol—”

  “I know. But when I could be Orpheus!

  Have you ever looked into that? There’s a sym-

  bol for you!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Orpheus! Orpheus! ” shouted Michael.

  Then he relapsed once more to his shy smile.

  “Oh this is all nonsense.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, you say that the artist—in this case,

  myself—you say that I am a plausible symbol

  of Prometheus. Prometheus the artist, when LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 161

  I could be Orpheus, the artist-man! Do you understand what I’m trying to say? When I

  could be the whole artist and man.

  Unchained! you see—for Prometheus is chained to a rock, God knows—unwound-

  ed, unlike Cocteau’s poet, or Henry

  James’ artist; unsevered, Arthur, unsevered!”

  “You’ll have to explain.”

  “I fear that it will all be clear to you any-

  way before long. A chain of events and not

  my words will illumine the meaning. Ah, but

  I’m tired…”

  “Never mind that. In those poems that

  you completed I found—”

  “Completed!” interrupted Michael. “But

  I’ve never completed anything.”

  “How could you then account for ever

  having created anything?”

  “I don’t know. That’s how I feel. The

  pathways of creation are devious.”

  “Well,” said Arthur, “I still don’t follow

  you. You sound incoherent.”

  “I mean—Well perhaps I have completed

  something. There are the parts, and since

  these parts are in themselves complete, then

  there must exist somewhere a complete

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 162

  whole.”

  “Precisely,” said Arthur wearily, as though

  he had wanted to explain this all along, and

  was impatient to continue with what he was

  saying. “Now, the artist—”

  “The artist! The artist!” Michael was in a

  savage mood, and he was constantly pressed

  to smile, in order to undo his antagonism.

  “All right, go on. But be careful…”

  “Of what?”

  Michael turned his eyes to the rooftops

  again. “I don’t know. I sound like a smug

  father, to tell you that; and God knows, no

  one is ever old enough to give advice. Well

  what I mean is be careful of art, as art: if you

  take it seriously, ultra-seriously, there is

  liable to be—”

  “The consequences are what I crave,”

  Arthur said subtly.

  Michael looked at Arthur in surprise.

  “We’re dissimilar,” he concluded, after

  watching Arthur for several moments.

  “Perhaps, at least… What I mean—and I

  often wonder if I ever say anything that is

  anywhere near the point—is that the conse-

  quences of espousing art like a priest, say, are

  often—harmful—to the whole man.”

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 163

  “In art I

  intend to find

  wholeness,”

  Arthur put in.

  “In art,”

  Michael said,

  “I found

  halfness.”

  They were silent, staring at each other.

  The door suddenly opened and Maureen

  walked in. Her jaw was trembling, she was

  pale, and glaring at Michael. There was a

  shocked silence.

  “Get out,” she said.

  “Well?” Michael began.

  “Get out. I just saw that witch Marie down at

  the markets—and she told me everything.”
>
  After a pause, Michael shrugged. “I don’t

  care,” he said wearily.

  “Get out,” repeated Maureen. “I want

  you to get out.” She was holding a bag of

  provisions under her arm that she’d just

  been buying before Marie approached her.

  “And why?”

  “I’ll kill you if you don’t get out. And you

  too, young man. Get out with him. All of

  you are children, and all of you are fools.”

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 164

  Michael laughed.

  “Laugh,” said Maureen. “Laugh because

  you’re ignorant. Get out. Don’t ever come

  back, it might be dangerous.”

  “Nay fatal,” Michael mocked.

  “Get out,” she repeated again quietly.

  Michael sighed and rose from the chair:

  “My clothes—”

  “I’ll pack them and give them to you

  tomorrow. Get out right away.”

  Michael and Arthur walked out of the

  apartment.

  “Well,” said Arthur as they walked down

  the stairs and out onto X Street, “does that

  mean the end of your affair with Maureen?

  I guess it does,” he concluded himself.

  “Yes,” sighed Michael. He seemed a lit-

  tle weary; even the menacing scene with

  Maureen had not succeeded in bringing

  him out of his indolent ennui. “It was con-

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 165

  venient while it lasted.”

  Arthur gave Michael a slanting glance.

  “Is that all you can say?”

  Michael sighed again and didn’t answer.

  They walked along across the campus.

  Presently, he said, “That’s all the situation

  warrants.”

  Arthur, a trifle embarrassed, repressed an

  impulse to express his feelings for Maureen

  and for her position in the matter. It had

  been fairly evident to him, that to Maureen,

  the affair had held more meaning than could

  be encompassed in Michael’s bland use of

  the word “convenient.”

  “Now—” Michael said, falling deeper and

  deeper into his gloominess, “Now, I suppose

  it’s time to go to Marie’s.”

  “Why?”

  “She is a witch, that Marie,” Michael

  reflected tiredly. “There was no need to tell

  Maureen everything. What can hurt a

  woman like Maureen more than to tell her

  to her face that her lover has been made the

  victim of a conquest—”

  “Well, hardly.”

  “I suppose,” Michael droned on, “that

  Marie is the type who does a good job, a thor-

  ough job, of things when she transgresses…”

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 166

  “Well, hardly!”

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 167

  Arthur almost laughed. “Strange talk!

  Transgression! Now you’re no longer the artist

  beyond good and evil, but a sinner in arms…”

  “You must admit it’s hard to purge your

  system of the notion,” Michael mumbled. “I

  knew a man once who had himself psycho-

  analyzed in order to get rid of the notion,

  and to be happy: good and evil, he didn’t

  care one way or the other.

  Good and evil

  blur your

  vision—God does-

  n’t make the

  distinction, you

  know. You can’t

  rid yourself of

  it...especially

  when you’re a

  human being.

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 168

  Biologically speaking, I’m afraid all poetic

  vision is rot.”

  “Now, now,” Arthur leered, “don’t let lit-

  tle things let you down?”

  Arthur laughed to conceal his confusion

  on the matter. They had crossed the cam-

  pus, and now they were walking down the

  boulevard in the direction of Marie’s house.

  “It’s going to rain soon,” Michael

  observed. “It’s the end…”

  Paul was sitting in Marie’s front room

  when they arrived there, with his head

  leaning on his hand, and staring fixedly into

  space. When he saw Michael and Arthur,

  he looked up and smiled, but said nothing.

  Marie came out of the bedroom carrying

  a towel and stopped short on seeing

  Michael.

  “Well?”

  “Nothing,” mumbled Michael. “I only

  came to see you about your telling

  Maureen. It wasn’t necessary, you know.”

  “It wasn’t necessary!” mimicked Marie

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 169

  savagely. “Shut up, won’t you, and go home.”

  She brushed past Michael and Arthur and

  went into the kitchen.

  “Well? Was it?” cried Michael, following

  her. Marie did not answer. Michael came

  back and dropped himself wearily on the

  couch. He stared dully at Paul across the

  room.

  “And where have you been?” he demand-

  ed sullenly.

  “I heard that while you were in the

  Bohemian Quarter—that is, when Julius saw

  you,” Paul rushed on to say, heedless of the

  question, “and according to his version, of

  course, that you stopped to talk to some children

  in the park—that was the way he put it—”

  “Well, what of that?”

  “I’m only referring to the incident he

  described where you stopped to talk to some

  children—”

  “All right, all right!” cried Michael impa-

  tiently. “What are you saying?”

  “Just—thank you.”

  There was a silence, during which Arthur

  seemed bewildered at all this. Michael only

  tilted his head to one side and gave Paul a

  grave and scornful glance.

  Marie was back, crossing the room. “I’ll

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 170

  have no loud talking and yelling. All of you

  had best go home, anyway. You’re of no use

  here.”

  Michael followed her into the bedroom.

  Anthony was peacefully asleep, with just the

  hint of a smile on his lips.

  “What a big baby!” Michael exclaimed

  softly. Marie turned to him and almost

  smiled. But solemnly she said, “And what

  do you think you are?”

  “I’m not a baby.”

  “Hmm?”

  Marie lowered the windowpane,

  arranged Anthony’s blankets, motioned

  Michael out of the room, and quietly closed

  the door. She went over to a desk drawer

  and took out a cigarette and lit it.

  Arthur, of course, was very embarrassed

  and uncomfortable; particularly now since

  Michael and Marie had ceased to harangue

  with one another: the situation warranted

  some haranguing, else how account, in

  moral terms, for the derelict in the next

  room. But Marie seemed quite calm with

  her cigarette, and Michael seemed to have

  fo
rgotten his anger over the Maureen mat-

  ter. Paul, for his part, though betraying no

  signs of discomfort, had lapsed again into a

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 171

  preoccupied contemplation of space. The

  first raindrop spat against the windowpane.

  Marie went to the lamp and turned it on.

  The evening had come on within the space

  of a raindrop and the click of a lamp.

  “Well?” Marie said, for none of the three

  youths had spoken. Arthur looked with

  some desperation towards Michael, then to

  Paul.

  Michael got up from the couch. “I guess

  I’ll go home,” he said. Paul made no move

  to rise from his chair.

  “Do you still want to know why I told

  Maureen?” Marie asked.

  Michael shrugged. “I guess I know. Yes,

  I do know. But I think it was stupid on your

  part — you want to flagellate yourself, com-

  plete the picture; but Maureen, well, what

  about her?”

  Marie was laughing. “Discounting what

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 172

  you just said about flagellation, what are

  you supposed to care about people’s feel-

  ings, according to what you told me in the

  Quarter?”

  Marie was watching Michael intently.

  Paul, too, was now watching.

  “Suppose,” Michael said wearily, “sup-

  pose I wanted the freedom to care when I

  wanted to, and not to care when I didn’t?”

  “That’s complicated!” Marie mocked,

  blowing smoke towards Michael.

  “Oh, is it?” sneered Michael, and turned

  away.

  “You’re a fool,” Marie added slowly.

  “You’re frank at least,” he answered. “I

  don’t mind your being frank. But you don’t

  belong to this world: if you allege yourself

  tied to it, why don’t you act accordingly?”

  “Does that confuse you?”

  “Yes, yes!” yelled Michael suddenly. “Oh,

  LiveREADS

  ORPHEUS EMERGED 173

  why don’t you leave me alone!”

  “Ha ha ha!” shouted Paul from his chair

  in the corner.

  “And you!” Michael cried, turning to Paul.

  “Why don’t you go back to your wet grass

  and your fruits!”

  “Oh, you know about that?” Paul inquired

  archly.

  Michael threw up his hands. “It’s the way

  you all think you understand my every next

  move. It’s completely disgusting. Don’t you