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Authors: Peter Ackroyd
Tags: Fiction
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saw the picture of an angel with a flaming sword.
Soul:
That sort of thing. But if you really wish to discover some truth—
Plato:
That is my desire.
Soul:
Then so be it. I will no longer stand in its way. Good luck.
Plato:
When will I see you again?
Soul:
Have you ever really seen me? Go now. The citizens are waiting for you.
30
You see the charred paper before you? Please note that it contains words in an early English script. I have employed square brackets in order to signify a tentative conjectural meaning, and asterisks to denote a tear or burn in the manuscript itself. It reads as follows, and you will forgive me if my accent sounds harsh or discordant. It is considered to be authentic.
fragments [they] have * ruins
*ieronymo * * again
* * Eliot
It is my contention that ‘Eliot’ here signifies the name of the author or singer of the quoted lines and, fortunately, there is surviving evidence which may lead us to a closer identification. A fragment of prose has been recovered which alludes to ‘the writer George Eliot’, and in a collection of Mouldwarp frescos which can provisionally be dated somewhere between the eighteenth and twenty-first centuries there exists a wall painting or wall chart with the inscription ‘The Alhambra. Presenting Our Very Own Eliot, the Chocolate-Coloured Crooner and Nimble Negro’. I have already informed you that in this epoch the earth was divided and dispersed into ‘races’, generally considered to have arisen for climatic rather than spiritual reasons; ‘negro’ or ‘chocolate-coloured’, then, are variants of ‘African’ or ‘black’. In the succeeding Age of Witspell, of course, it was believed that the black ‘races’ were closer to God and had therefore been burned by the rays of divine love. It can be suggested, therefore, that these lines are the work of an African singer named George Eliot. In this there can be no certainty, as I am only too well aware, but the identification has at least the merit of being supported by all the available evidence.
The text itself has been subject to various interpretations. One historian asserts that:
fragments = ruins
and that George Eliot is simply contemplating the remains of some chapel or shrine of an earlier age built in homage to ‘ieronymo’ or St Jerome. But that suggestion has been challenged by another reader, who infers that
ruins = runes
and that ‘ieronymo’ can then be reworked as:
i.e. my roon
or ‘that is my spell’. I, Plato, have developed this point with the inference that the black singer was in fact prophesying the fall of the Age of Mouldwarp into ruins and fragments. If I may quote my own words on that occasion, ‘Consider the plight of the poets or singers of that epoch who (as we believe) had the role only of entertainers. It is not clear whether they gave recitations in public places or at private gatherings, but their lowly status is confirmed by the paucity of material relating to them and the characteristically melancholy tone of their surviving works.’ It has even been surmised that George Eliot deliberately created a ‘fragment’ or ‘ruin’ of a poem in order to exemplify his despair. There may indeed have been a long tradition of ruin literature of which he was perhaps the last exponent. Excuse me. My light is beginning to fade. You had noticed it already? Please, there is no need for alarm. There is no sickness. Nothing will harm you. I am tired. That is all. This oration is completed.
31
Something is happening. Something is coming. I can hear cries and murmuring voices, and now the shadows have started to appear. I feel their presence all around me. Soul! I have certain anxieties. I feel them more strongly than you can possibly imagine. Soul? Where are you? Now I can see a pale young man leaning against a post. There is a girl. There is an animal approaching her. The name becoming visible is Golden Lane. Who are these people walking beside me? There are so
Soul:
That sort of thing. But if you really wish to discover some truth—
Plato:
That is my desire.
Soul:
Then so be it. I will no longer stand in its way. Good luck.
Plato:
When will I see you again?
Soul:
Have you ever really seen me? Go now. The citizens are waiting for you.
30
You see the charred paper before you? Please note that it contains words in an early English script. I have employed square brackets in order to signify a tentative conjectural meaning, and asterisks to denote a tear or burn in the manuscript itself. It reads as follows, and you will forgive me if my accent sounds harsh or discordant. It is considered to be authentic.
fragments [they] have * ruins
*ieronymo * * again
* * Eliot
It is my contention that ‘Eliot’ here signifies the name of the author or singer of the quoted lines and, fortunately, there is surviving evidence which may lead us to a closer identification. A fragment of prose has been recovered which alludes to ‘the writer George Eliot’, and in a collection of Mouldwarp frescos which can provisionally be dated somewhere between the eighteenth and twenty-first centuries there exists a wall painting or wall chart with the inscription ‘The Alhambra. Presenting Our Very Own Eliot, the Chocolate-Coloured Crooner and Nimble Negro’. I have already informed you that in this epoch the earth was divided and dispersed into ‘races’, generally considered to have arisen for climatic rather than spiritual reasons; ‘negro’ or ‘chocolate-coloured’, then, are variants of ‘African’ or ‘black’. In the succeeding Age of Witspell, of course, it was believed that the black ‘races’ were closer to God and had therefore been burned by the rays of divine love. It can be suggested, therefore, that these lines are the work of an African singer named George Eliot. In this there can be no certainty, as I am only too well aware, but the identification has at least the merit of being supported by all the available evidence.
The text itself has been subject to various interpretations. One historian asserts that:
fragments = ruins
and that George Eliot is simply contemplating the remains of some chapel or shrine of an earlier age built in homage to ‘ieronymo’ or St Jerome. But that suggestion has been challenged by another reader, who infers that
ruins = runes
and that ‘ieronymo’ can then be reworked as:
i.e. my roon
or ‘that is my spell’. I, Plato, have developed this point with the inference that the black singer was in fact prophesying the fall of the Age of Mouldwarp into ruins and fragments. If I may quote my own words on that occasion, ‘Consider the plight of the poets or singers of that epoch who (as we believe) had the role only of entertainers. It is not clear whether they gave recitations in public places or at private gatherings, but their lowly status is confirmed by the paucity of material relating to them and the characteristically melancholy tone of their surviving works.’ It has even been surmised that George Eliot deliberately created a ‘fragment’ or ‘ruin’ of a poem in order to exemplify his despair. There may indeed have been a long tradition of ruin literature of which he was perhaps the last exponent. Excuse me. My light is beginning to fade. You had noticed it already? Please, there is no need for alarm. There is no sickness. Nothing will harm you. I am tired. That is all. This oration is completed.
31
Something is happening. Something is coming. I can hear cries and murmuring voices, and now the shadows have started to appear. I feel their presence all around me. Soul! I have certain anxieties. I feel them more strongly than you can possibly imagine. Soul? Where are you? Now I can see a pale young man leaning against a post. There is a girl. There is an animal approaching her. The name becoming visible is Golden Lane. Who are these people walking beside me? There are so
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