Glittering Images (38 page)

But still I could not speak. My emotion was beyond expression.

‘You’re not the villain of this story, Charles,’ said Darrow. ‘You’re the victim. It’s the glittering image who should be locked up in jail.’

There was a long silence while I struggled to adjust to this new perspective on my identity but eventually Darrow added: ‘I’m beginning to feel very, very sorry for this true self of yours. Terrible things happen to him but no one knows because he’s not allowed to talk about them. He’s cut off, isolated by that ruthless jailer. He only ever escapes when the jailer has too much to drink and then he’s always so aggressive that he seems thoroughly beyond the pale, but no wonder he’s so angry! He’s been imprisoned on a false charge by a jailer who should himself be behind bars. Tell me, can you really feel no sympathy for him in his predicament?’

‘Yes, but … what good would my sympathy do?’

‘All the good in the world because if you regard him with sympathy instead of horror then a different image will begin to appear in the mirror. Love and compassion breed understanding and forgiveness, and once a man’s understood himself sufficiently to forgive himself for his mistakes, the unfitness is made whole, the unworthiness is redeemed – and that’s what we want, isn’t it, Charles? We want to restore your belief in your own worth so that you can find the courage to set aside the glittering image and triumph over this tyrant who’s tormented you for so long.’

Once more the unwanted tears began to fall. I heard myself whisper, ‘Why do I feel so worthless? Why has all this happened?’ and Darrow said: ‘That’s the mystery beyond the mystery – and that’s the mystery we’ve now got to solve.’

We met again that evening. The bedside lamp glowed behind Darrow as usual and gave his unremarkable grey hair a distinguished silver sheen. His ineradicable air of authority was heavily muted; I was conscious primarily of his serenity.

‘Can you come out on parole again?’ he said. ‘I’m anxious to hear what you think about that glittering image now that you’ve had the time to reflect on our last conversation.’

‘He’s got to be locked up. I can see that. But I can’t see how I’m ever going to do it.’

‘It’s possible,’ said Darrow, ‘that if we can solve the mystery beyond the mystery he may simply wither away.’

I was intrigued but sceptical. ‘I can’t imagine him not being there.’

‘Been around long, has he?’ said Darrow casually.

‘Always.’

‘He’s always been there defining success in terms of winning everyone’s liking and approval?’

‘Yes.’

‘But what about you, Charles? How would your true self define success?’

‘Well, of course I do realize,’ I said, ‘that there’s more to life than winning everyone’s liking and approval. Success is pursuing one’s calling to the best of one’s ability. In other words, one dedicates oneself to serving God, and –’

‘Which self?’

‘One’s true self,’ I said automatically, and heard my sharp intake of breath. Still grappling with the insight which had been thrust upon me I concluded: ‘One dedicates one’s true self to serving God and one strives hard to do His will.’

‘Or to put it in non-theological terms,’ said Darrow, allowing me time to complete the struggle, ‘success involves realizing the fullest potential for good of one’s true self so that one’s life is a harmonious expression of one’s innate gifts. Now, Charles, how would you, your true self, define failure?’

‘Locking up one’s true self in order to live a lie,’ said my voice. ‘Living out of harmony with one’s true self in order to pursue the wrong goals for the wrong reasons. Caring more about other people’s opinions than about serving God and doing His will.’ I added in shame, ‘I can see I’ve been very much in error.’

‘Yes, but the point to note is that your errors haven’t arisen because of any profoundly incapacitating unfitness on the part of your true self. He knows –
you
know – exactly what you should be doing with your life, but that glittering image has such a stranglehold over you that you have to devote an enormous amount of time and energy to keeping him happy.’

I explored that summary and finally pronounced, ‘I’m like someone who’s being blackmailed.’

‘Exactly. The glittering image insists that the right people won’t like and approve of you unless you give him a luxurious home right in the forefront of your personality, and for some reason you’re so addicted to liking and approval that you’re willing to give in to this demand in order to satisfy your addiction.’

I thought that over. ‘When I know people like and approve of me,’ I said tentatively, ‘I don’t feel so unfit and unworthy any more.’

Darrow looked pleased as if some inarticulate pupil had made an eloquent speech. ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘And now perhaps you can see why, if we solve the mystery beyond the mystery, the glittering image may simply fade away.’

‘It must be a question of breaking the addiction. If I don’t feel unfit and unworthy, then I won’t be so dependent on people liking and approving of me and I won’t need the glittering image to secure their liking and approval.’

Darrow looked pleased again as if the inarticulate pupil had finally reached the top of the class, but before he could comment I said in despair, ‘I can see all this intellectually, but –’

‘– but emotionally you still can’t imagine how you could ever live without your glittering image systematically captivating the people who matter. But I think if we trace him back to his roots and find out how he came into existence we’ll begin to see why you feel too unfit and unworthy to go through life without him.’

‘But the glittering image doesn’t have any roots,’ I said baffled. ‘I told you – he’s always been there.’

‘How very remarkable,’ said Darrow blandly. ‘I’ve never before heard of a baby who arrived in the world complete with a glittering image.’

I smiled uncertainly at him before saying, ‘Supposing we can’t find the roots?’

‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t. It’s just a question of knowing where to dig. Then once we reach the roots we’ll prise them out so that the entire noxious weed can be left to wither away in the sun while the half-strangled starving plant in the flower-bed will be able to flourish at last.’

I considered this prospect in silence and the silence lasted a long time.

‘However,’ said Darrow watching me, ‘digging’s hard work and you may not be strong enough yet.’

I said suddenly, ‘Is this where the gate gets even straiter and the way even narrower?’

‘Yes, but we don’t have to approach this new gate yet, Charles. We can just sit and look at it for a while.’

But all I said was, ‘I want to go on.’

++

‘It is not quite easy to fix an autobiographical paragraph into such a composition as that which I am now addressing to you, but I think it will have to be attempted, for undoubtedly my personal religion has been strongly affected by the eccentric course of my early years.’

HERBERT HENSLEY HENSON
Bishop of Durham 1920–1939
Retrospect of an Unimportant Life

It was morning and the light of a clouded day illuminated my room as we sat down again at the table. I had repeated my desire to begin the excavation which would lead to the root of my glittering image, but Darrow had made no immediate reply; I suspected he was calculating how far I spoke out of bravado.

‘Well, we won’t drill straight away to bedrock,’ he said at last. ‘Let’s first scrape off a little topsoil by talking of Jardine.’

My hand groped for my cross.

‘We won’t discuss him in detail,’ said Darrow quickly. ‘I’d just like you to clarify my mind on a single point: did Jardine like you straight away? He obviously liked you very much later or he wouldn’t have told you about his father.’

I could think of the early part of my visit to Starbridge without difficulty. ‘I don’t think he did like me particularly at first,’ I said. ‘He thought I was just one of Lang’s bright young men.’

‘Did you want him to like you?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Why “of course”? It could have been a matter of supreme indifference to you.’

‘Yes, but during our row at the dinner-table he gave the impression he strongly disapproved of everything I said –’

‘– and you didn’t like him disapproving of you?’

I hesitated before saying abruptly, ‘I hated it.’

‘Yet it would be true to say, wouldn’t it, that by the end of your visit you’d managed to win his approval despite all the friction caused by Lang’s commission and your attraction to Lyle?’

I nodded.

‘Very well,’ said Darrow, ‘we’ve established that here was an important man many years your senior who liked and approved of you. Now let’s leave Jardine and go further back into the past – let’s talk about your relationship with Dr Lang. There seems to be a similar pattern here … but perhaps I’m mistaken.’

‘No,’ I said reluctantly. ‘Lang and Jardine are two very different men but I was equally successful in winning Lang’s liking and approval.’

‘Can you describe the relationship with Lang in more specific terms?’

‘I was his protégé.’

‘Yes, but is there one adjective, do you think, that we can use to describe the attitude of this distinguished man many years your senior who likes and approves of you?’

‘Benign.’

‘There isn’t another adjective you’d choose?’

‘No,’ I said at once.

‘Very well, let’s go back a little further to Jane’s father, another distinguished man many years your senior who regarded you benignly. When you were telling me about Jane you made it clear how important his liking and approval were to you, and obviously you succeeded in getting on well with him. Did Jane have any brothers?’

‘No. The old boy minded that very much, I think.’

‘In that case he must have been very pleased to have acquired such a first-class son-in-law.’

I traced a mark on the table with my forefinger and said nothing.

‘This is really quite a coincidence, isn’t it?’ said Darrow. Three distinguished older men, all regarding you with exceptional approval! Would you say they had any striking feature in common?’

‘The Church.’

‘Was that the only common denominator?’

‘Yes,’ I said at once.

‘And when you were up at Cambridge as an undergraduate – I expect there was someone special there too, wasn’t there, who took a benign interest in you?’

‘Well, as a matter of fact,’ I said, ‘yes. I became the protégé of the Master of Laud’s.’

‘Did he have a family?’

‘Both his sons were killed in the War.’

‘And before you went up to Cambridge I’m sure the headmaster of your school took a special interest, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, I was head-boy.’

‘And at prep school?’

‘Yes, I was head-boy there too.’

‘And what happened before you went to prep school?’ said Darrow. ‘Who was the important older man in your life then?’

I looked out of the window, I looked all the way down the garden, I looked far back into the past, and the silence closed around us as the memories stirred in my mind.

‘Charles,’ said Darrow, ‘for some days now I’ve been watching all the characters in the drama of your life parade across the stage, but there’s a very important person who hasn’t yet appeared. Is this perhaps the moment when he makes his long-awaited entrance or are you going to save him up for a later scene?’

I laughed. ‘By all means let him make his entrance!’ I said. ‘But in fact my father’s not important in this context.’

‘If you’d prefer to say no more –’

‘Oh, there’s no question of that! What do you want to know?’

‘Well, perhaps you could just mention in passing how you get on with him –’

‘Exceptionally well,’ I said. ‘He’s the most splendid chap and I have nothing but respect and admiration for him.’

‘You’ve always got on well with him, have you?’

‘Always. Well … I admit there was a little difficulty when I went into the Church – no, let’s call a spade a spade and say there was a big row – but we got over all that years ago and now he’s proud of my success. I’m very fond of both my parents and I’m very good friends with my brother – in fact I’d say we were an unusually close, happy family.’

All Darrow said was, ‘When did you last go home?’

I said, ‘I don’t think I’ll talk any more this morning. I’m all right, there’s nothing wrong, but I think I’d like time to reflect on the extraordinary coincidence that I keep meeting these benign older churchmen!’ I smiled to show him how amused I was, how detached, how absolutely in command of myself, and my self was the glittering image, threatened, fearful, prepared to fight hard to survive.

Darrow said to him politely, ‘Just as you like. Shall we hope for sunshine this afternoon in the herb-garden?’

‘I suppose you now want me to admit,’ I said later as Darrow sat down beside me on the bench in the herb-garden, ‘that there are a bunch of terrible skeletons in the family cupboard.’