The Adventures of Augie March - Saul Bellow [271]
showed the acne-exploded follicles under his beard. He mightn't be very bright, Robey humbly started, but what could he do? he couldn't escape ideas. None of us could escape ideas, and everybody was up against the same thing, namely, that there were hundreds of things to think about and to know. He had a duty to do his best at it. This was how he covered up his zeal, which I felt, however, powerfully trembling in the back. This book, he went on, he wanted to call The Needle's Eye. Because there never had been a spiritual life for the rich if they didn't give up everything. But it wasn't any longer merely the rich who were headed for trouble. In the near future technology was going to create abundance and everyone would have enough of everything. There'd be inequality but not starvation or great need. People would eat. Well, when they ate, what then? The Eden of liberty, plenty, and love, the dream of the French Revolution coming to pass. But the French had been too optimistic and thought that when the decrepit old civilizations were busted nothing could stop us from entering the earthly paradise. But it wasn't so simple. We were facing the greatest crisis in history. And'he didn't mean the war, then coming on. No, we'd find out if there was going to be this earthly paradise or not. "B-bread's almost free now in America. What'll hap-happen when the struggle for bread is o-o.... Will goods free man or enslave him?" You almost forgot to think about his goofy looks and about the lavish collection of screens, antiques, irons, Russian sleighs, hanks and tails of helmets, and mother-of-pearl boxes. All the same, even when he was in the top spheres he looked miserable, ready to weep tears. In the meantime the moldy ham taste kept coming up on me. "M-machinery'll make an ocean of commodities. Dictators can't stop it. Man will accept death. Live without God. That's a b-brave project. End of an illusion. But with what values instead?" "That's quite a deal," I said. "But," he said, "that's toward the end of the b-book. I think weshould start with Aristotle discussing how much of worldly goods you need before you can practice virtue." "I haven't read much Aristotle." "Well, that's one of the th-things you have to do. You'll be paid for it, never you worry. But I want this to be a solid piece of work and real scholarly. We're going to cover the Greeks and Romans, Middle Ages, Renaissance Italy, and I'm p-planning a chart, the Min Minoans way high, Calvin down low. Sir Walter Raleigh, up; Carlyle, stinks; modern science, stand-still. Not even interested." In the next half-hour he made sense only now and then; he seemed to tire, and he rambled, he blinked his fire-streaked eyes and coughed in his fist. "N-now-now you tell me about yourself," he said. I didn't know where to begin and I damned him for asking me. But he wasn't lisr tening. By the way he looked at his wristwatch I could tell he was wondering how soon he could be by himself again. So I asked to be shown the can, and he pointed it out. When I came back he appeared to have recovered his interest in the book and wanted to discuss it some more. He said he was sure I was the man to help him. And he started to outline the whole thing for me. Part one, general statement. Part two, pagans. Three, Christians and so forth. Four, practical examples of the highest happiness. His excitement again rose. He took off a house slipper and laid it on a book or album that Illlllll II f was on ^ ^ffs table and every now and then he put it on again. '. llllllilll " He was saying that Christianity originally was aimed at the lowly and slaves, and that was why crucifixion and nailing and all such punitive grandeur of martyrdom were necessary. But at the pole opposite, the happy pole, there ought to be an equal thickness. Joy without sin, love without darkness, gay prosperity. Not to be always spoiling things. 0 great age of generous love and time of a new man! Not the poor, dark, disfigured creature cramped by his falsehood, a liar from the cradle, flogged by poverty, smelling bad from cowardice, deeper