Read Online Foe by J.M. Coetzee - Free Book Online

cutting one side of it straight. "Now, Friday, take the
shears," I say: "Cut!"; and Friday takes the shears
and cuts in a clean line, as I know he is capable of doing, for his
digging is impeccable.
    'I
tell myself I talk to Friday to educate him out of darkness and
silence. But is that the truth? There are times when benevolence
deserts me and I use words only as the shortest way to subject him to
my will. At such times I understand why Cruso preferred not to
disturb his muteness. I understand, that is to say, why a man will
choose to be a slaveowner. Do you think less of me for this
confession?'
    'April 28th
    'My
letter of the  25th  is
returned unopened. I pray there has been some simple mistake. I
enclose the same herewith.'
    'May 1st
    'I
have visited Stoke Newington and found the bailiffs in occupation of
your house. It is a cruel thing to say, but I almost laughed to learn
this was the reason for your silence, you had not lost interest and
turned your back on us. Yet now I must ask myself: Where shall I send
my letters? Will you continue to write our story while you are in
hiding? Will you still contribute to our keep? Are Friday and I the
only personages you have settled in lodgings while you write their
story, or are there many more of us dispersed about London -old
campaigners from the wars in Italy, cast-off mistresses, penitent
highwaymen, prosperous thieves? How will you live while you are in
hiding? Have you a woman to cook your meals and wash your linen? Can
your neighbours be trusted? Remember: the bailiffs have their spies
everywhere. Be wary of public houses. If you are harried, come to
Clock Lane.'
    'May 8th
    'I
must disclose I have twice been to your house in the past week in the
hope of hearing tidings. Do not be annoyed. I have not revealed to
Mrs Thrush who I am. I say only that I have messages for you,
messages of the utmost importance. On my first visit Mrs Thrush
plainly gave to know she did not believe me. But my earnestness has
now won her over. She has accepted my letters, promising to keep them
safe, which I take to be a manner of saying she will send them to
you. Am I right? Do they reach you? She confides that she frets for
your welfare and longs for the departure of the bailiffs.
    'The
bailiffs have quartered themselves in your library. One sleeps on the
couch, the other, it seems, in two armchairs drawn together. They
send out to the King's Arms for their meals. They are prepared to
wait a month, two months, a year, they say, to serve their warrant. A
month I can believe, but not a year they do not know how long a year
can be. It was one of them, an odious fellow named Wilkes, who opened
the door to me the second time. He fancies I carry messages between
you and Mrs Thrush. He pinned me in the passageway before I left and
told me of the Fleet, of how men have spent their lives there
abandoned by their families, castaways in the very heart of the city.
Who will save you, Mr Foe, if you are arrested and consigned to the
Fleet? I thought you had a wife, but Mrs Thrush says you are widowed
many years.
    'Your
library reeks of pipesmoke. The door of the larger cabinet is
broken and the glass not so much as swept up. Mrs Thrush says that
Wilkes and his friend had a woman with them last night.
    'I
came home to Clock Lane in low spirits. There are times when I feel
my strength to be limitless, when I can bear you and your troubles on
my back, and the bailiffs as well if need be, and Friday and Cruso
and the island. But there are other times when a pall of weariness
falls over me and I long to be borne away to a new life in a far-off
city where I will never hear your name or Cruso's again. Can you not
press on with your writing, Mr Foe, so that Friday can speedily be
returned to Africa and I liberated from this drab existence I lead?
Hiding from the bailiffs is surely tedious, and writing a better way
than most of passing the time. The memoir I wrote for you I wrote
sitting on my bed with the paper on