He measured out the rope to twice the length of his outstretched
arms, and when the ruined city was once more silent he peered
over, letting that measured section run through his hands. The
end dangled much more than his height from the ground, and at
that he twisted and knotted the next yard or two around the pole,
straining against it, tugging it, making certain it could not
ease loose. The moon emerged as he finished, and in a panic he
dragged up the loose end, and shrank back from the edge, well
back, so that no watcher should see him from the road. There,
lying flat on his empty belly, he began his penultimate activity.
He knotted, as best he could, the end of the rope about his neck,
with a great and clumsy, but effective, slip knot. He tried it
again and again, more fearful than ever lest its failure, because
of his own, should betray him back into a life which his frenzy
felt as already ghostly. He felt that he could not bear that
last betrayal, for he would never have courage to repeat this
mighty act of decision. The dreadful universe perhaps would
spare him that, if he were careful now. He was very careful.
As, exhausted by the necessary labour, he lay flat on that stage
of the spectral ascent, amid the poles and unroofed walls, he did
not consider any future but unfortunate accident or fortunate
death. He was almost shut up in his moment, and his hope was
only that the next moment might completely close him in. No
dichotomy of flesh and spirit distressed or delighted him nor did
he know anything of the denial of that dichotomy by the creed of
Christendom. The unity of that creed has proclaimed, against
experience, against intelligence, that for the achievement of
man's unity the body of his knowledge is to be raised; no other
fairer stuff, no alien matter, but this to be impregnated with
holiness and transmuted by lovely passion perhaps, but still
this. Scars and prints may disseminate splendour, but the body
is to be the same, the very body of the very soul that are both
names of the single man. This man was not even terrified by that
future, for he did not think of it. He desired only the end of
the gutter and of the voice; to go no farther, to hear no more,
to be done. Presently he remembered that time was passing; he
must be quick or they would catch him, on his platform or as he
fell, and if he fell into the safety of their hands he would fall
into his old utter insecurity. All he knew of the comfort of the
world meant only more pain. He got awkwardly to his feet; he
must be quick.
He was not very quick. Something that was he dragged at him, and
as he crawled to the edge dragged more frantically at something
still in him. He had supposed he had wanted to die, and only at
the last even he discovered that he wanted also not to die.
Unreasonably and implacably, he wanted not to die. But also he
wanted not to live, and the two rejections blurred his brain and
shook his body. He half struggled to his feet in his agony; he
twisted round and hung half over, his back to the abyss; he
clutched at the rope, meaning to hold it and release it as he
fell, to such an extreme of indecision pretending decision did
his distress drive him, and then as the circling movement of his
body ended, twining the rope once more round his neck, he swayed
and yelped and knew that he was lost, and fell.
Charles Williams
Descent into Hell
Chapter 2 - Via Mortis
No comments:
Post a Comment