Into the Wood of the Self
Molloy as a
Retelling of the Cain & Abel Myth
Samuel Beckett’s querulous relationship with his native
Ireland is legendary, born into the upper- class echelons of Foxrock, south
county Dublin, his was a background of Protestant privilege, just like his
contemporary Francis Bacon, born on Baggot Street to British parents. Both men
would see the world that they grew up in, due to the civil war, utterly change
all around them, and with the arrival of the new Republic their relationship
with the new order was not a good one. Both were to leave Ireland, Bacon, like
Beckett, after much wandering in Europe eventually took up permanent residence
in London, while Beckett famously went on to live out his life after the war in
Paris like his old master James Joyce before him. As a writer myself, my own
relationship with all three of these artists has been life enduring. I
discovered them all in my late teens, and I am still as fascinated as ever.
Again, like all three, I have a rather mercurial
relationship with Ireland. Despite having returned here to live indefinitely in
the late nineties, after having spent almost a decade travelling to and from
France, I still have a very love and hate relationship with my country, or cuntry
as I sometimes prefer to spell it. This, I must admit, is one of the real
reasons why I like in particular Molloy out of all Beckett’s novels, as
it is laced with acidic quips, perhaps more so than any other, relating to
Ireland. I suppose, as the years wore on, and his exile from that land became
more of a permanent fixture, so the place diminished like an old lover in his
mind, and he was able to breath a bit easier on that particular matter. Until
of course a correspondence from an old friend, or some story typically relating
to one of the productions of one of his plays there resurrected then for him
all of the old pain, and no doubt fury.
There is a lot of spleen in Molloy. I use this
particular word with well- chosen care, as it is a word that one would
typically relate to Baudelaire, and in a sense this brings me very naturally to
the real subject of this essay. For, according to my reading, at least this
particular reading of Molloy that I am going to offer here, Baudelaire,
or rather a particular poem by Baudelaire touching on a very famous story in
the Bible Cane & Abel is the real subject of the book, and it is now
my task to put as adequately as I can my reasons for this forward. My ducks in
a row, so to speak! But, in order to first do so, let me first reproduce the
poem by Baudelaire.
CXIX. – ABEL
ET CAIN
I
Race d’Abel,
dors, bois et mange ;
Dieu te
sourit complaisamment .
Race de Caïn
, dans la fange
Rampe et
meurs misérablement.
Race de Caïn,
ton supplice
Aura-t-il
jamais une fin?
Race d’Abel,
vois tes entrailles
Hurlent la
faim comme un vieux chien.
Race de Caïn,
tes entrailles
Hurlent la
faim comme un vieux chien.
Race d’Abel,
chauffe ton ventre
A ton foyer
patriarchal ;
Race de Caïn,
dans ton antre
Tremble de
froid, pauvre chacal !
Race d’Abel,
aime et pullule !
Ton or fait
aussi des petits.
Race de Caïn,
Coeur qui brûle,
Prends garde
à ces grands appétits.
Race d’Abel,
tu croîs et broutes
Comme les
punaises des bois !
Race de Caïn,
sur les routes
Traîne ta
famille aux abois.
II
Ah ! race
d’Abel, ta charogne
Engraissera
le sol fumant !
Race de Caïn,
ta besogne
N’est pas
faite suffisament ;
Race d’Abel,
voici ta honte :
Le fer est
vaincu par l’épieu !
Race de Caïn,
au ciel monte,
Et sur la
terre jette Dieu ![1]
CXIX. – Cain and Abel
Race of Abel, sleep, drink,
and eat;
For God smiles down upon
you benignly.
Race of Cain, always in the
shit,
Scale new heights
miserably.
Race of Abel, your only
sacrifice
Is to flatter the noses of
the seraphim.
Race of Cain, as for your penance
When is it ever to end?
Race of Abel, warm your
belly
By your patriarch’s hearth.
Race of Cain, in your cave
Tremble with the cold you
Jackal.
Race of Abel, love and
propagate,
As your loved ones too will
do.
Race of Cain, fear
heartburn;
Best to temper those
appetites!
Race of Abel, you breed and
truly believe,
Like woodlice upon a tree.
Race of Cain, born only for
the open road,
Dragging your family up
through penury.
II
Ah! Race of Abel, your
exquisite cadaver lies
Fattening the smoking land.
Race of Cain, your labours
will never
Bear you any fruit.
Race of Abel, your only
shame being
That the sword is always
beaten by the pike.
Race of Cain, storm the
heavens
And throw God from his
thrown.[2]
As one reads the poem one becomes acutely aware at the similarity of the
circumstances between the twin protagonists of Molloy; the damned Moran
a shoe in for the role of Cain who very much like his Biblical counterpart apparently
murders a man in part 2 of the novel. while the vagabond Molloy that of Abel,
the shepherd, or dispossessed condemned to roam the countryside with his flock.
In Genesis 4. one is reminded;
And Adam knew Eve his wife;
and she conceived, and bare Cain,
And said, I have gotten a
man from the Lord.
2. And she again bare his
brother Abel.
And Abel was a keeper of
sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the ground.
This is where all the fun begins! So, in the Bible, Cain is the first
born and yet it is Abel whom the Lord favours. Why? Let us again remind
ourselves.
3. And in the process of
time it came to pass, that Cain
Brought of the fruit of the
ground and offering unto the Lord.
4. And Abel, he also
brought of the firstlings of his flock and
Of the fat thereof. And the
Lord hath respect unto Abel and
to his offering:
5. But unto Cain and to his
offering he had not respect.[3]
We know the rest, Cain murders Abel in a fit of rage and is marked by
the Lord and condemned to forever wander the earth ‘fugitive and vagabond’. All
of which conforms to the status of both Abel and Cain in Baudelaire’s version,
although the notion of patriarchy which Baudelaire introduces is questionable,
as the Lord in the Bible does not follow the typical lines of patriarchy, by
not granting to his firstborn his correct ‘inheritance’ as is traditionally the
case, rather favouring the second born Abel who pleases him more by his
diligence and hard work. Work being a key idea in salvation, though not for
Cain nor his sons who are condemned to forever wander ‘in the land of Nod, on
the east of Eden.’ Thus the Christian ideal is very clear here, those who work
and observe the word of the Lord will be the chosen people, while those who do
not please the Lord, no matter what their position in heritage, by not working
hard and observing his laws, will suffer eternal strife and will be cursed.
Baudelaire, interestingly, places his poem in the Révolte section of Les
Fleurs Du Mal and would clearly be siding, rather like Milton in Paradise
Lost, with the injured party Cain, or at least would appear to be making a
case for his revolt. What is then fascinating to compare, at least to this
reader, is Beckett’s apparent treatment of the mythic pair, as I believe that
there is a very strong case to make for such a comparison.
Molloy, for example, is peppered with curious symbols and signs that
would appear to be alluding to the biblical myth of Cain and Abel. What could
be seen as Beckett’s rewriting, such is my take in this particular reading.
Moran assumes the role of Cain, as he is the one who is settled and so would be
the one in possession, while the vagabond tramp Molloy, the dispossessed, being
then cast in the role of Abel, itinerant in his ramblings, at first, like any
shepherd. The shepherd is indicated very early on in the novel when Molloy
spots one by the canal when he awakens after leaving his mother’s house, having
spent the night in a ditch.
Mais le matin, un matin, je
le retrouve, le matin deja avancé,
et le petit somme que je
fis alors, suivant mon habitude, et
l’espace redevenu sonore,
et le berger qui me regardait dormir
et sous les yeux de ce qui
j’ouvris les yeux. A côté de lui un chien haletant,
qui me regardait aussi,
mais moin fixement que son maître,
car de temps en temps il
s’arrêtaiat de me regarder pour se mordiller furieusement
les chairs, aux endroits
probablement où les tiques le mettaient
à contribution. Me
prenait-il pour un mouton noir empêtré dans
les ronces et attendait-il
l’ordre de son maître pour me sortir
de lè? Je ne crois pas. Je
ne sens pas le mouton, j’aimerais bien
sentir le mouton, ou le
bouc.[4]
This passage of the shepherd is extremely significant for our present
purposes as it goes on for over two pages. The term treason is inserted just
before the passage above which introduces the shepherd, ‘Trahisons, trahisons,
la traîte pensée.’ The treachery of Cain and his act of fratricide signalled
then very clearly. I would argue that this is a key theme of Beckett’s in his entire
oeuvre, the theme of fratricide, an act, in a nutshell, which is symbolically,
at least, the most violent expression of man’s violence towards his fellow man,
in that the myth shows that if man holds his own brother in such contempt, any
possible ideas on fraternity with his fellow man are merely a travesty.
Fraternity being one of the three key ideas, of course, born from out of the
French revolution which would have such resonance for a nineteenth century
French poet, such as Baudelaire. Indeed, only Baudelaire, it could be said,
matches Beckett’s fundamentally pessimistic view on man’s overall condition.
Baudelaire, we know, inherited his views from Edgar Allan Poe and ‘the
theoretician of Catholic counter-revolution’[5] Joseph de Maistre.
Baudelaire was to review de Maistre’s Unpublished Letters and Opuscules a
book which was published as early as 1851, the following year Baudelaire was to
categorically state his debt to the two men who in his own words had ‘taught me
to think.’
De Maistre is almost singlehandedly credited with convincing Baudelaire
of man’s profoundly dire nature, in direct contrast to Rousseau. Rousseau of
course being a key figure in the Enlightenment which had so marked the 17th
and 18th centuries, eventually leading to the French revolution with
its ideas of equality. De Maistre, in direct contrast to figures like Rousseau,
who believed that man was inherently good, was that, rather like the Old
Testament view, man was inherently bad, due to Original sin. Original Sin
originating with his original disobedience of God’s sole commandment to Not eat
of the fruit of the tree. Eve’s role in Adam’s downfall is of course, in
Biblical terms, the origin of the ‘Fall’ of Man. But one must look to the
language of the Bible, again, in order to remind oneself of the ‘original sin’,
and, of course, the consequences in order to more fully appreciate the
Copernican shift in perspective which Baudelaire, due to his readings of De
Maistre and Poe, would now look upon the world, as it is this pessimistic
vision which was to inform his most canonical work Les Fleurs Du Mal which
is the purpose of this essay to remind readers of Beckett how fundamentally his
worldview was to be so radically altered by late 19th century
writers, but in particular, Charles Baudelaire.
17 And unto Adam he said,
Because
Thou hast harkened unto the
voice of thy wife,
And has eaten of the tree,
of which I
Commanded thee, saying,
Thou
Shalt not eat of it: cursed
is the ground for thy
Sake; in sorrow shalt thou
eat of it all thy days
Of thy life;
This idea of the one accursed is so pertinent to Baudelaire who was to write of Poe ( 1852 ) in his first
major study of the American writer that some men were ‘marked by fate’, and he
uses the term guignon. Now guignon in French derives from
guigne which literally translates into jinx, or one who is jinxed or
plagued by rotten luck. Guignol is a derivative which in popular French
culture is a clown or an idiot, again fated, or damned, to an appalling
destiny. Beckett’s authorised biography, in a curious inversion, by James
Knowlson is called Damned to Fame ( 1996 ). Guignol theatre typically
involved hand held puppets or marionettes, and featured ‘melodramatic tension,
horror and shock’( Merriam-Webster), all of which have been equally applied to
Beckett’s theatrical productions over the years. Baudelaire, in an even greater
extension of this ‘damned’ myth, is typically regarded as the poète maudit par
excellence. The ‘accursed’ poet living outside the conventions of society, the
term was popularised by Paul Verlaine in a collection of essays he published
under this title on three poets Tristan Corbiére, Arthur Rimbaud and Stephen
Mallarmé ( 1884 ), all profoundly influenced by their undisputed King –
Baudelaire! Rimbaud, in his much -quoted letter to Paul Demeny – 15th
May 1871- states unambiguously; ‘Baudelaire est le premier voyant, roi des
poètes, un vrai Dieu.’[6]
But, not only was man cursed, so too were the other two protagonists,
first the serpent.
13 And the Lord God said
unto the woman,
What is this that
thou hast done? And the
Woman said, The serpent
beguiled me,
And I did eat.
14 And the Lord God said
unto the serpent,
Because thou has done this,
thou art cursed
Above all the cattle, and
above every beast
Of the field; upon thy
belly thou shalt go,
And dust shalt thou eat all
the days of thy life:
Snakes to this very day have become symbolically assigned to the company
of the damned, the diabolical, just as in the same way sheep and lambs have in
the Christian world, because of the Bible, synonymous with Christ in the New
Testament, but also, as we have seen with Abel in relation to his work. Abel
was a shepherd, thus consigned to wander in the wilds with his flock, unlike his
brother Cain, the first born, who was a tiller of the field. So, in this one
pairing you have the possessor and the dispossessed.
In Molloy, Beckett very quickly dispels with any bucolic ideal.
Voila qui est important. Je
sus donc aussitôt que c’était un berger
et son chien que j’avais
devant moi, au-dessous de moi plutôt, car
ils n’avaient pas quittéle
chemin. Et le bélement du
troupeau aussi, inquite de
ne plus se sentir talonné,
je l’identifiai sans peine.
C’est à ce moment aussi que
le sens des paroles m’est
le moins obscure, de sorte
que je dis, avec une
tranquille assurance, Où les
amenez-vous, aux champs ou
à l’abattoir? ( p.37)
The reference to the abattoir a timely reminder of the fate of the
sheep, the faithful flock being led by their master, the shepherd, to the place
where they will be slaughtered for the procurement of their meat, wool and
vital organs, in order for their master(s) to survive. It is all highly
symbolic.
Je me mis à genoux, non, ça
ne vas pas, je me mis debout et
je regardait s’éloigner la
petite caravane. Je l’entendis
siffler, le berger, et je
le vis qui s’affairait autour du
troupeau, qui sans lui
serait sans doute tombé dans le
canal. Tout cela à travers
une poussière étincelante
et bientôt à travers cette
bruine aussi qui chaque jour
me livre à moi et me voile
le reste et me voile à moi. ( p.37)
Dust covers everything, vision obscured the beasts go on their way, and
Molloy listens as their bleating fades.
Et voilà comment débuta
cette seconde journée, a
moins que ce ne fût la
troisième ou la quatrième, et
ce fut un mauvais début,
car il fit entre ren moi une
perplexité de long haleine,
rapport à la destination de
ces moutons, parmi lesquels
il y avait des agneaux, et
je me demandais souvent
s’ils étaient bien arrives dans
quelque vaine pâture ou
tombés, le crane fracases,
dans un froissement des
maigres pattes, d’abord à
genoux, puis sur le flanc
laineux, sous le merlin. Mais
ells ont du bon aussi, les
petites perplexités. Quel
pays rural, mon Dieu, on voit
des quadrupeds partout. ( p.38)
In the lexical field of signs, it appears to be a bad beginning for
Molloy, the vison of the sheep. No doubt an omen of his state of being, a
biblical vagabond, destined, like the sheep, for his own eventual slaughter, as
it could also be his possible fate, considering the very random nature of the
murder of the as yet unidentified man by Moran in part 2 of the book. Indeed, through such associations,
one is reminded of another poem by Baudelaire, his correspondences.
La Nature est un temple où
de vivants piliers
Laissent parfois sortir de
confuses paroles,
L’homme y passe à travers
des forèts de symbols
Qui l’observent avec des
regards familiers.[7]
In Molloy , it is as if Beckett takes this poem as his cue,
moving the vagabond Molloy through the lexical fields, biblical in their
retinue. [8] Of course, chief among the
signs, for the purpose of our current examination, is the re-emergence of the
sheep just after the murder of the stranger in the wood by Moran in part two,
just after his contact with Molloy which apparently helps to speed a crisis of
identity on the part of Moran.
Moran, we must remember, has been tasked to find Molloy by his employer,
the agent Gaber having delivered the order appearing in Moran’s garden one
particular Sunday morning. Historically, the whole idea of Agents is all to
reminiscent of Beckett’s war time activities with the resistance cell Gloria of
which Knowlson has the following to say which is of some significance to the
character of Gaber in Molloy.
‘Gloria’ was one of several
specialised cells which was centred on the
Parisian region but which
gathered information widely over the whole
area of the occupied zone.
The cell grew until it had eighty members. It
was also more or less
autonomous. For although, in the early days of
the movement, members of
some cells who knew each other well used
to meet quite openly, it
was soon recognised that it was better if members
of one cell, or small
groups within each cell, knew as little as possible
about the others. In that
way, if uncovered, or betrayed, the damage
could, in principle at
least, be limited to a more restricted circle. Agents
could not reveal under
torture what they did know.[9]
If one compares this passage from Knowlson with the following from Molloy
the parallels are quite striking.
Et quand je parle d’agents
et des messagers au pluriel,
c’est sans garantie. Car je
n’avais vu d’autre messager
que Gaber ni d’autre agent que
moi. Mais je supposais
que nous n’etions pas le
seuls et Gaber devait supposer la
même chose. Car nous sentir
uniques nos genres respectifs,
nous n’aurions pu le
supporter je crois. Et il devait nous
paraître naturel, à moi
qu’a chaque agent fût affecté un seul
messager et à Gaber qu’à
chaque messager fût affecté un
seul agent. ( p.146)
There have been many commentaries made about Beckett’s war time
experience and its resurfacing in his work, Hugh Kenner’s analysis on Waiting
for Godot immediately springs to mind, so my point is not to linger too
long here, but merely to remind the reader, and no doubt myself, about some of
the historic context behind the work, as it is very indicative in terms of
brooding mood and atmosphere, particularly concerning the murder which we must
treat and which takes place at the end of the novel, that is to say at the end
of part 2.
Je venais d’allumer mon feu
et le regardais prendre
lorsque je m’entendis
interpeller. La voix, si proche
déjà que je susautai, était
celle d’un homme. Mais
ayant sursauté je me repris
et continuai à m’occuper
de mon feu comme si de rien
n’était, en le remuant
avec un branche que j’avais
arrachée à cette effet peu
de temps avant et don’t
j’avais enlevé le tiges et les
feuilles et même une partie
de l’écorcher, avec mes
seuls ongles. ( p. 203 )
The nervousness on display typical for strangers one might expect in
wartime, in respect to Moran’s behaviour to the stranger. But the encounter
with this stranger, the one curiously whom he meets just after his encounter
with Molloy, in terms of symbiology is what I wish to treat first here, as
Moran is tending a fire. This is when the stranger arrives in the wood, the man
Moran is to eventually kill, so just as the shepherd and his flock is symbolic
in the present reading at the start of the novel, so too is the tableaux of
Moran before the fire in the wood before he murders the man who very tellingly
Moran says whose face ‘qui ressemblait vaguement, j’ai le regret de la dire, au
mien’ ( p.205), and who in a few paragraphs previous describes also as ‘le
genre d’emmerdeur que j’avais entrevu ( p.204 ). These details are very
interesting in relation of the Cain and Abel myth which I am attempting to
point to as a possible template for the author, without having, aside from all
the circumstantial evidence of my reading, a shred of forensic evidence, I must
confess. A veritable crime in today’s radically empiricist approach to reading
texts chez Beckett, a practice I find rather tiresome, I must confess,
for the sole reason that a lot of the time the great majority of the references
which academics tend to use today in the field of Beckett Studies seem to come
almost exclusively from the hand of Beckett himself, which to my mind is a very
narrow field indeed, as it rather conveniently sets Beckett up as the final
authority on how his work should be interpreted.
Whereas, the theory that I am proposing, or rather, the theory which the
text suggests to me upon reading the signs is that this stranger whom Moran
murders is, as Moran says himself, someone who physically ressembles him and is
a bit of a shit, like him! In other words, a son of Cain, as opposed to
Abel. In other words, another potential murderer! Why do I propose this version
of the events? Well, before I do, let us return to the tableaux of the
fire. The Heraclitean fire. Why Heraclitean? Because it is his primal
element and it is there, I believe, because it is coherent in the field of
references which are embedded in the text, as opposed to Beckett’s private
notebooks! Why, when we are analysing a particular work, should we refer
constantly, as is the standard practice today, to the notebooks of the author
in question, almost unquestioningly when we know that the said authors will be
aware that there notebooks, as Beckett assuredly was, would be scrutinized to
death in order to substantiate any theories? This is what I meant earlier by
‘radical empiricism’, as such practices would appear to be all too delimiting,
as we are, in this way, constantly merely reflecting back the vision of how the
author wishes to be seen, or to have his/her work seen, and so who is further
imposing an authority into the interpretation of the work in question, thus
begging the case, in a way, for some form of special exemption. I do not, I
must say without going any further, subscribe to this point of view as I have
seen, from attending numerous conferences, how subsequent readings turn out
following a specific pattern, or narrative, that is all too familiar, and all
too cosily working into an overriding narrative of Beckett the author, and his
high priests who form the enchanted Circle, which simply impede, at least in my
view, a more inclusive interpretation of the works. For, as we are all aware,
there are no definitive readings, particularly those imposed by the ‘Author’.
I have written already on the appearance of Heraclitus[10]in the writings of Beckett,
tracing his lifelong fascination with the presocratic thinker from his very
first published novel More Pricks than Kicks which appeared in the early
1930s to Comment C’est How It Is published almost thirty years later in
the early 1960s, and which continued, apparently, up until his death. What I
would like to underline here is that Beckett was not, of course, alone in
taking an interest in Heraclitus. Nietzsche, for example, had directly singled
the thinker out as an exceptionally perceptive thinker, even praising him above
Plato and Aristotle. Indeed, so important did Nietzsche consider the thinker
that he placed him alongside Parmenides and Empedocles whom he classified as
Pre-Socratic thinkers, as opposed to Pre-Platonic, in order to strictly
demarcate a very radical difference in their thinking and which Nietzsche
believed was instigated by Socrates with his emphasis on rational thinking
above all else. Heidegger was to take up the baton from Nietzsche, and indeed
it was only last year that the first English language publication of
Heidegger’s Heraclitus – and the Inception of Western Thought. So,
Heidegger, singled out by Alan Badiou in Being and Event as the most
formidable thinker in twentieth century philosophy, locates categorically as
the place to look, if one were looking for another way to think outside of mere
reasoning. Beckett’s oeuvre, rather similarly to Heidegger’s, one could
suggest, is really all about teasing out other ways of enquiry apart from the
rational, so called reasoning being the constant resource for humour, to the
point of farce, in a lot of Beckett’s writing.
I have made reference to the war in relation to Molloy having
mentioned Beckett’s wartime activities and how, in the case of Gaber
particularly, the Author’s experience in the resistance informs the novel, as
indeed have many other commentators. I should like to further the Hercaclitean
nature of the allusions or signs now, so as to further claim that this,
Beckett’s vision or stance, is not merely historic but can be seen to be much
more all – encompassing in its overall vision of things, what one might call of
a cosmological nature. This is where Heraclitus comes in. Let us return to the
text for some evidence of such signs. As we are now focused on Moran and part 2
of the novel, let us recall the very first paragraph as the idea of war is
clearly mentioned there.
Il est minuit. La pluie
fouetté les vitres. Je suis calme.
Tout dort. Je me lève
cependant et vais à mon bureau.
Je n’ai pas sommeil. Ma
lampe m’écliare d’une
lumière ferme et douce. Je
l’ai réglée. Elle me
durera jusqu’au jour.
J’entends le grand-duc. Quel
terrible cri de guerre!
And there it is, the reference to war as part of the natural phenomenon
of life, not as something distinct to a particular time and place in history,
but as a fundamental aspect of life in general, and of course this particular
world-view is uniquely Heraclitean. Hence fire, the most destructive and
creative of all the elements, the most dynamic. Beckett is insistent on this
point, and throughout his work. ‘When will you have done with your accursed
notions of time?” the character of Hamm asks/screams in act two of Waiting
for Godot when questioned by Estragon on when he went blind, having no
clear visual impairment in act 1.
J’ai toujours aimé écorher
les branches
et mettre à nu la jolie
stèle claire et lisse. Mais
d’obscurs sentiments
d’amour et de pitié vis-à- vis
de l’arbre m’en empêchaient
le plus souvent. Et je
comptais parmi mes intimes
le dragonnier de Ténériffe
qui périt à l’âge de cinq
mille ans, frappé par la foudre. ( p. 204)
So, Moran thinks to himself as he stokes the fire in the forest just
after his encounter with the vagabond Molloy, and his subsequent crisis of
identity, and then his encounter with the stranger whom he eventually kills.
Fragment number 64 in the constellation of aphorisms that we have which are
remaining of Heraclitus is the one that immediately springs to mind with
reference to the above text by Beckett. ‘Lightning steers the universe.’ which
is incidentally the opening fragment in Heidegger’s discussion with Martin Fink
in The Seminars of Heraclitus[11]. The thunderbolt being a
violent action which can lead to destruction brought about by fire, as in the
case of the example cited by Moran above. The metaphor is once of violence in
relation to the world and life which is in keeping with the whole atmosphere of
the novel. This fragment also is paraphrased in fragment 80, again by
Heraclitus which states ‘War is the father of all things. He established some
as gods and the others as humans; some he made slaves and others free.’[12] Such is one side to the tale, as we must also
insist that if Heraclitus is a constant store house of reference to Beckett,
Democritus must also be made reference too, as while the former represents the
tears, or suffering of the world, the latter represents the laughter. Again, we
must resort to More Pricks than Kicks here, and particularly the chapter
entitled Yellow in which the pair are mentioned, and at some length[13]. Of course, for a
dramatist the pair are symbolically entwined to represent the theatre, in the
form of both the comic and tragic muses respectively. One could say that again
they are the unending pseudo-couple which govern the many marionettes, or
characters, which Beckett peoples his work, as their influence is unending
throughout his collected works. Comedy is
the therapeutic medicine for dealing with the ills of this world, it is
reflexive in Beckett constantly counter-balancing the very often appalling
conditions his characters find themselves in. It is why we, the readers, or
theatre-goers, constantly return to his work for the medicinal laughter in the
face of the brutal facts. His whole humour is based on suffering, ‘Nothing is
funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that.[14]’ Beckett learned this from Chaplin and Laurel
and Hardy, it is the essence of his work. It is what sets him apart from most
writers of his time, those who, like he, had also endured the war years.
For example, here is an extract from a text by Rene Char the French poet
who, like Beckett, also served with the resistance during the war and was also
fascinated by Heraclitus, there are many texts written about the poet in
connection with the pre-Socratic thinker. The text I am taking is from Fureur
et Mystère which was written during the war years between 1938-1944.
La laterne s’allumait.
Aussitot
un cour de prsion
l’étreignait. Des
pêcheurs d’anguilles
venaient là fouiller
de leur fer les rares
herbes dans l’espoir
d’en extraire de quoi
amorcer leurs lignes.
Toute la pégre des écumes
se mettait a l’abri
du besoin dans ce lieu. Et
chaque nuit la même
manège se répétait don’t
jétais le témoin sans
nom et la victime. J’optais
pour l’obscurité et
la reclusion.[15]
If you compare it to the opening paragraph of part 2 of Molloy, which I
have quoted above, there are similarities with the lamp, but the tone or
register is so different. Beckett’s is simple, direct, matter of fact. This is
how it is, you get on with it. Tough love is the expression we use today.
Whereas, Char’s tone is very different, he speaks about victims, for example.
There is a pleading. Never in Beckett. But, this is all tedious, as these are
the kind of banal ideas which you will find in a half a dozen or so documents.
So, let us return, for God’s sake, to the text.
I should like now to treat a very important passage which is placed
between Moran’s meeting with Molloy in part 2 just before he lights the fire in
the wood and kills the stranger, as what
takes place in Moran would appear to be
nothing less than an identity crisis provoked possibly by his contact
with Molloy and so which is extremely relevant, I believe, in the context of
the present reading, and which I am trying, rather meanderingly, to pin down.
You’ll have to forgive me, reader, I came rather late to academic composition
and so have a tendency to wander. Before I treat the particular passage in
question, it is perhaps best if I first treat Moran’s encounter with Molloy, so
Cain then with Abel, as just like Baudelaire plays with his version of the
events, siding with Cain, as it were, thus making of Cain a kind of rebel
figure, so too I believe Beckett plays with the Biblical myth, but with an
altogether different idea.
As I said, Moran first encounters Molloy in the wood, just after his son
abandons him to go and look for a bicycle in the town of Hole, leaving him
literally in the Shit. After first masturbating and enjoying, in general his
first taste of privacy since he set off on his journey in the company of his
son, Molloy appears out of the blue before Moran who appears to be totally unaware
that it is his quarry.
Mais un peu plus tard,
sorti dans je ne sais quell but,
je vis un homme a quelque
pas de moi, debout et immobile.
Il me tournait le dos. Il
portait un manteau lourd pour le
saison et s’appuyait sur un
bâton tellement massif, et
tellement plus gros vers le
bas que vers le haut, qu’on
aurait dit un massue. Il se
retourna et nous regardâmes
assez longuement en
silence. ( p. 198 )
The two men then continue to stare at one another, Moran, as he explains
in order to show the other, as he usually does with strangers, to show him that
he does not fear him, while Molloy throws Moran rapid looks from time to time,
before looking down as if in reflection upon what he has seen, Moran explains.
After some time looking upon one another like this, Molloy eventually doffs his
hat, which Moran is very impressed with, so much so that he goes into a big
description of it. So, unknown to Moran he is describing Molloy’s hat to to the
reader who is in the know that it is Molloy that is standing before Moran who
appears to be completely unaware of this fact. Moran then goes on to describe
Molloy’s physical features a little more, his face and eventually his bizarre
movements, so that if the reader had any doubt about the man’s identity, they
could be sure now. Molloy eventually asks Moran for a bit of bread to eat, and
it is after hearing Molloy speaking that he concludes that the man is a
stranger to the region which seems to endear him to him. He offers Molloy some
sardines.
Il me demandait du pain et
je lui proposais du poisson.
Tout mon caratère et la. (
p.199)
This is classic Beckett, it is the kind of vaudeville banter that
theatre goers around the world have come to appreciate in the Author’s plays. Waiting
for Godot is full of such moments. Eventually Moran goes to his things and
offers Molloy, a complete stranger, the piece of bread which he had been saving
for his own son. Molloy breaks it in two and places the pieces in the pockets
of his coat and before going on his way he lets Moran feel his stick which has
made such an impression on him. All in all, the encounter between the two men
is quite pleasant, after the initial doubts they might have had about one
another, they have in two clear and distinct signs shown a form of brotherhood
together; Moran by giving Molloy some bread, after it has been requested, and
Molloy by letting Moran hold his stick. In these two significant acts trust
among both men has been established. Now, let us move onto the next event of
significance which happens in the novel.
After Molloy leaves him, Moran begins to get extremely restless. He
tries to sleep, but in time he gets up and lights a fire in order to keep warm.
He thinks about his son, and falls asleep. In the morning he wakes up, it is
the second day that his son has been away from him now. As the day progresses
and as he waits on his son to return, looking out at a particular point on the
horizon, Moran starts to become troubled.
J’allais dans les bosquet
pour me taille rune branche à mon
convenance, je me rappelai
que je n’avais pas de couteau.
Je rentrai dans l’abri,
espérant y trouver le couteau de mon
fils parmi les objets qu’il
avait poses par terre et omis de
ramasser. Il n’y était pas.
( p. 201 )
While his son has left him, Moran has tried to build himself a home away
from home in the clearing of the wood, a place where he get recreate some
order, what he is usually used to. At the start of part 2, when we are
introduced to Moran for the very first time we find him comporting himself as
he would on a typical Sunday morning. The image that Beckett presents of Moran
is revealed in the language he uses, the register is all telling. Someone once
said, a friend of Beckett’s I believe, that Beckett was trying to take the piss
out of the French when he wrote in their language, and reading the first few
pages of part 2 in Molloy
one can well believe it.
Je me rappelle le jour où
je recu l’ordre de
m’occuper de Molloy.
C’était un dimanche d’été.
J’étais assis dans mon
petit jardin, dans un fauteuil
de rotin, un livre noire
fermé sur mes genoux. Il devait
être vers les onze heures,
trop tôt encore pour aller à
l’église. Je goûtais le
repos dominical, tout en déplorant
l’importance qu’on y
attache, dans certaine paroissses.
Travailler, voire jouer le
dimanche, cela n’était pas
forcément réprénsible, à
mon avis. Tout dépendait de
l’état d’esprit de celui
qui travaillait, ou qui jouait,
et la nature de ses
travaux, de ces jeux, à mon avis. ( p.126 )
Here we have, in just the third paragraph of this particular section
which is given over to Moran, the whole tone or register of all that is to
come. A self-satisfied little prig, is probably how Moran could be best
described. Pompous and conceited that he is. Thanks to the wonderful work of Dr
Eoin O’Brien, we know that Beckett was largely inspired by his own upbringing
in his familie’s home in Cooldrignagh in Foxrock in some of the passages that
describe Moran’s house and environs. Moran’s is a social milieu which Beckett
knows very well. It is strictly upper middle class, and it is a social
background which he himself turned his back on when he made the very conscious
decision to give up an academic career as a lecturer in Trinity College and
which his family, particularly his mother, had put such great store by. There
are, of course, similarities here again with Baudelaire who also turned his
back on a life of privilege in order to pursue his art, and indeed it takes no
leap of imagination to guess what might have possibly attracted both writers to
the myth of Cain and Able two men whose destinies were apparently mapped out
from day one. One, who being consigned to a life of wandering, flourished,
while the one who stayed at home came to be damned!
Il faisait beau. Je
regardait mes ruches, les sorties
et les rentrée des
abeilles. J’entendais sur le gravier
les pas précipités de mon
fils, ravi dans je ne sais
quelle fantasie de fuites
et de poursuites. Je
lui criai de ne pas salir.
Il ne repondait pas. ( p.126 )
The inclusion of a son and the relationship which Moran has with his
son, ( I have always found part 2, I must confess, far more interesting than
part 1 ) I have always found to be a fascinating aspect of the novel, and
consider it to be worthy of some attention. Particularly in showing more light
on the character of Moran. Considering that Beckett himself never had any
children, I think that the relationship that he establishes between both
characters is very believable, at times. Once again, it also reveals Moran’s
very controlling nature. Everything that his son does must pass through Moran’s
almost forensic examination. He is a control freak, in the language of today.
An asshole, too, no doubt! A classic case of this being exhibited is the story
of the stamps when his son wants to take his stamp albums with him, after being
suddenly told that he must accompany his father on some mysterious trip into
the country in order to find some stranger.
Je lui demandai ce qu’il
attendait pour faire ce que je lui avait dit.
A la place de mon fils il y
avait belle lurette que je me serais quitté.
Il ne me valait pas, ce
n’était pas le même étoffe. Je ne pouvais échapper
à cette conclusion. Piètre
satisfaction en effet que celle de se sentir
supérieur à son fils et
insuffisante à calmer le remords de l’avoir appelé
à la vie. ( p.141)
This is brutal stuff, Moran is clearly an asshole, but at least he’s
direct. There is no ambiguity. In fact, it is the apparent brutality of his
reasoning which underscores a lot of the humour in the book, as it has been the
case in the previous section with the vagabond Molloy. Indeed, this is a trait
both of the characters share, perhaps it is what united them in the first
place, which brings us back to the crisis which Moran has just after his
encounter with Molloy. Moran, remember, has been waiting for his son to return
on the second day of his departure for the bicycle which they both need so that
Moran can be transported more easily after his accident, and Moran clearly is
having problems adjusting to his new environment living out in the woods, far
from his methodically organised life which he had been enjoying in the comfort
of his own home and which he ruled at least up this point pretty much to his
own very exacting standards, there is a lot of humour with the maid in this
respect who clearly can’t stand his guts and delights in foiling Moran’s plans.
Now, he finds himself alone and injured in the wild, being placed in a
situation in which he is clearly not in control. Curiously, his encounter with
Molloy, whom he doesn’t recognise, is the only thing which seems to calm him, a
little. Both men, in fact, find a kind of sympatico. Moran even gives Molloy
the bread which he has been holding for his son whom he clearly holds a little
in contempt.
Et il me semblait me
voir viellir à une vitesse
d’ephémère. Mais l’idée de
vieillissement n’était pas
exactement celle qui se pré-
sentait alors à moi. Et ce
que je voyais ressemblait
plutôt à un émiettement, a
un effondrement rageur
de tout ce que depuis
toujours me protégeait de ce
que depuis toujours j’étais
condamné à être. Ou
j’assistais à un sorte de
forage de plus en plus rapide
vers je ne sais quell jour
et quell visage, connus et
reniés. ( p. 202 )
Something is provoked in Moran and which deeply troubles him, and it
affects him to the very core of his being. Suddenly, this massively conceited
and ordered man, a kind Cartesian man, in a sense, who so prides himself on the
fineness of his reasoning, compared to his son, for example, and who looks down
on Martha his servant with whom he enjoys outwitting, just as much as he does
his son. Suddenly, he is beginning, for perhaps the very first time in years,
to have doubts as to his own identity. It is an extraordinary passage in the
novel, and points the way very certainly ahead to the subject matter of further
novels, such as L’innommable which makes of the subject of the enquiry
into the nature of human identity its whole area of unique focus which is
unique in the history of the novel. But here, in this whole passage, we can
find the nucleus of what is to be the increasingly common nature of all of
Beckett’s unique probing into self and notions of selfhood. The idea of duality
is of course touched on in the respective characters of Moran and Molloy, but
only in the Heraclitean notion of it which is in unison; opposites being but
two halves of the same equation. This is why I think the Cain and Abel myth is
so appropriate, as there is something else going on, and it continues to be
developed by Beckett throughout the extent of his whole life work, and that is
his obsession with man’s inhumanity to his fellow man of which Comment
C’est/ How It Is treats the most extensively.
Mais comment décrire cette
sensation qui de
sombre et massive, de
grinçante et pierreuse, se fai-
sait soudain liquide. Et je
voyais alors une petite
boule montant lentement des
profondeurs, à travers
des eaux calmes, unie
d’abord, à peine plus claire
que les remous qui
l’escortent, puis peu à peu visage,
avec les trous des yeux et
de la bouche et les autres
stigmates, sans qu’on
puisse savoir si c’est un visage
d’homme ou de femme, jeune
ou vieux, ni si son
calme aussi n’est pas un
effet de l’eau qui le sépare
du jour. ( p. 202 )
Moran is having a complete meltdown, in terms of identity. Gone is the
Cartesian notion of self, and of course one could resort to the whole symbolism
of the wood equating it with man’s unconscious a la Freud, or Lacan,
with its infernal cogito; as poor Moran is truly lost in the dark wood
of the soul. Of course, Dante too springs to mind and the celebrated first
three lines of l’Inferno – Nel mezzo del cammin de nostro vita, mi ritrovai
per una selva oscura, ché la dirrita via era smaritta. This is Moran’s
dark wood, and he can’t handle it.[16]
What is interesting to note in the passage when Moran confronts the
stranger, eventually apparently killing him, is the very different way in which
he interacted with Molloy, and this I believe brings us back to the Cain and
Abel myth. As one can clearly see that the stranger’s attitude is what one
could only describe as territorial, whereas with Molloy, being a vagabond by
nature, there can be no such claims to territory. For instance, what clearly
upsets Moran is the tone the man takes up with Moran. After launching into a
series of questions, in a demanding tone, all to which Moran does not respond,
the man eventually gets frustrated with Moran’s attitude and advises him to
answer him, as if he had some kind of authority over Moran to which Moran
clearly rejects.
Je vous conseille de me
reponde, dit il. Je ne vous
connait pas, dit je. Elle
était bonne, en effet. Monsieur
desire -t-il voire ma
carte? dit il. Elle ne m’apprendrait
rien, dit je. Il vient plus
prés de moi. Otez-vous de là, dit- je.
Ce fut alors lui qui rit.
Vous refusez de repondre? dit-il.
Je fit un grand effort. Que
voulez- vous savoir? dit- je. ( p.205)
This is the discourse of the sons of Cain. It is laborious, heavy, and
tedious, and inevitably it is going to end badly. As it does! The constant one
upmanship. The constant struggle for authority. The smart quips. We have all
witnessed it, at some stage or other, and it is in very marked contrast to the
discourse with Molloy which was based on mutual respect, such is the governing
of the tongue with the sons of Abel. In the end Moran dispatches with the
stranger, and the Author refuses to even describe the violence. In fact, Moran
seems unaware himself as to how he killed the man. But with a violent blow, or
two or three, obviously. It is as if the whole event is so tedious that it does
not merit recording. Such, at least is Beckett’s treatment of it which would be
in direct contradiction to the state of current entertainment today, when one
thinks that the majority of films, and Netflix series are all centred around
the violence of such encounters Molloy in this respect is the anti-novel
par excellence. Indeed, this is the singular genius of the novels in question,
yet Molloy most particularly as it is in Molloy that Beckett explores
for the first time the theme that will obsess him until at least the completion
of Comment C’est How It Is and it can be perfectly embodied in the myth
of Cain and Abel; in short man’s fellow inhumanity to his fellow man.
In a kind of irony, when Moran makes to get rid of the corpse, taking
hold of the dead man’s ankles, he notices that the man is wearing a pair of
socks with a design of goats, a kind of travesty of the mark of Cain and in a
continuing series of signs, all adding to the mystical configuration, after
placing the body next to the fire, Moran sits down to relax and he listens to
the owls. ‘Ce n’étaient pas des ducs, ça faisait un cri comme un siflet de
locomotive.’ ( p.206/07) The war ended, he watches the fire die. Sure enough,
his son arrives with the bicycle and they are on their way to Ballybaa. Now at
the start of this essay, I mentioned Beckett’s longstanding hatred of the Republic,
due to the censorship laws which his books had come up against. One can only
guess at the number of reasons why Samuel Beckett took the prefix Bally, which
is the anglicised form of the Irish Baile, meaning town, and why he affixed the
suffix baa, which of course is the sound that sheep make. The term sheeple,
springs to mind. The idea that Irish people in the republic are sheep like in
their slavish devotion to doing what the government and the church tell them to
do, at the time of the composition of Molloy Éamon de Valera was the
dominant personage in Irish politics overseeing one of the most repressive regimes
in the history of the state. He was Taoiseach for three periods, 1937-1948,
1951 – 1954 and 1957-1959. This was the period of Irish history that my own
parents grew up in where the proximity between church and state was practically
joined at the hip, the repression of that era can still be felt in contemporary
Ireland despite all its claims of progress. I offer myself as proof of this
last statement, as I have yet to have a book published in the Republic, after
having had three published in Belfast, three in France, three in the UK and one
in New Zealand. In fact, my latest book is to be once again published in France
as I could not find a publisher in the Republic of Ireland, I had to ask a
French poet to translate my book, as I knew that a French publisher would have
no qualms about publishing it. The book in question is inspired by Baudelaire
and Walter Benjamin.
After arriving in Ballbaa, Moran and his son are surrounded by black
sheep. The irony is marvellous; a black sheep being metaphoric for someone who
doesn’t fit in! Then, a moment of almost perfect symmetry, the shepherd
appears, just as he did in part 1 when Molloy awoke beside the canal.
Le berger me ragardait
venir, sans se lever. Le chien aussi,
sans aboyer. Les moutons
aussi. Oui, peu à peu, me faisaient
face, me regardaient venir.
Seuls quelque brefs mouvements
de recul, une maigre patte
frappant le sol, trahaissaient
leur trouble. ( p.215 )
And the idea of treason is, of course, reiterated. It is an astonishing
moment of revelation when you clear through the thicket, and the signs appear
as they are resplendent to themselves. It is an act of calculated revelation
which Beckett, the Author, creates painstakingly. I have mentioned the term tableaux,
in relation to Moran and the campfire and it is an image worthy of Rembrandt.
Eoin O’ Brien in The Beckett Country singles out Rest on the Flight
into Egypt by the Dutch artist in connection with a piece of text taken
from Beckett’s first stab at a novel Dream of Fair to Middling Women it is an image that Beckett
would have been familiar with from his visits to the National Gallery in
Dublin, and when one sees this image, and the great darkness surrounding the
figures in the clearing in the wood, illuminated by the fire one cannot but be
reminded of the Heraclitus fragment on lightening, here is Heidegger again.
But lightning steers beings
as a whole.
Fire, as lighting,
‘steers,’ surveys, and shines over the whole of
beings in advance and
permeates this whole pre-luminously in
such a way that, at the
blink of an eye, the whole joins itself,
kindles itself, and excites
itself each time into its conjoinedness.
Heidegger use the term Lichtung as an essential idea in his
thinking, it means clearing in English, and Heidegger, a great walker in the
mountains, takes the idea of a clearing in a wood using the idea of light which
penetrates the clearing. Heidegger uses this analogy for his kind of thinking,
and it is exactly this kind of thinking that I am reminded of when I read
Beckett’s passage about Moran in the wood where he has his crisis of identity
and where he eventually commits murder. Is this the point in his life when
Moran ceases to be like Cain, the figure he once was, and accepts his other
nature, that of Abel belonging then to one of the dispossessed? It is a
question I pose. Of course Beckett uses silence, as he promised he would in
that early attempt at a novel, just as Rembrandt and Caravaggio before him used
the darkness to illuminate, and to help clarify things. This was something he
learned from another old master, but from another discipline. I am referring to
Beethoven. Molloy the novel seen as a literary counterpart to
Beethoven’s Pastoral.
Bibliography
Baudelaire, Charles: Les Fleurs Du Mal, Garnier
Flammarion, Paris, 1991.
Beckett, Samuel: Molloy, Éditions de Minuit,
Collection “double”, Paris, 2002.
Char, René : Fureur et Mystére, NRF, Nouvelle
Edition, Gallimard, Paris, 2007.
Fink & Heidegger: Heraclitus
Seminars, Translated by Charles H. Seibert, Studies in Phenomenology and
Existential Philosophy, Northwestern University Press, Evanston, Illinois,
1993.
Heidegger,
Martin: Heraclitus – The Inception of Occidental Thinking and Logic:
Heraclitus’s Doctrine of the Logos, Translated by Julia Goesser Assainte
and S. Montgomery Ewegen, Bloomsbury Academic, London, First Published, 2018.
Fowlie,
Wallace: Rimbaud – Complete Works, Selected Letters, Translation and
Notes by Wallace Fowlie with the French on Facing pages, University of Chicago
Press, 1966.
King James Bible, Collins Bible, Harper & Collins,
no date of publication given.
Knowlson,
James: Damned to Fame – The Life of Samuel Beckett , Bloomsbury, London,
First Paperback Edition 1997.
O’Brien,
Eoin: The Beckett Country, The Black Cat Press in association with Faber
and Faber, Monkstown, Co. Dublin, First Edition, 1986
O’Neill,
Peter: More Micks than Dicks – a Hybrid Beckettian Novella in 3 Genres,
Famous Seamus, London, 2017.
Pichois & Ziegler: Baudelaire , Translated
by Graham Robb, Vintage Lives, London, 2002.
There have been many studies referencing
the Bible in relation to Molloy, among them being – Allegories of Clarified Obscurity: Bunyan’s
“The Pilgrim’s Progress” and Beckett’s “Molloy” by Julie Campbell, Samuel
Beckett Today/ Aujourd’hui, Vol. 24. Early Modern Beckett / Beckett et le début
de l’ère modern: Beckett Between/ Beckett entre deux ( 2012 ) pp.89-103.
