[BNP/E3, 28 – 48]
Friar Maurice
Why am I so unhappy? Because I am what I must not be. Because half of me is not brother to the other half and the conquest of one is the defeat of the other, and if the defeat the suffering – my suffering in either case.
Half of me is noble and great, and half of me is little and vile. Both of them are me[1]. When the part of me is great triumphs, I suffer because the other half – which is also truly myself, which I have been unable to render not-myself – aches thereat. When the base part of me triumphs, the noble half suffers and sorrows.
Ignoble tears or noble tears – all of them are tears.
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When I hear of the growth of vice, of lust, of sexual evilness I am filled with an inexpressible ache, with a deep rage. Why with such a rage? Because not all me is in revolt, but part – the greater, truly, the nobler, truly. But half of me, though hidden
[48v]
in me exults. My rage is therefore so great – the rage of war and of civil war together. I ache that I should not all be good.
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I am ever consumed by a deep, inextinguishable love of mankind, by a profound desire to do good, to defend the weak, to work wonders.
Often I, feeling so weak in will, so wavering in purpose, say: I will leave all ideas of altruism: I will, perhaps not enjoy life, but at least care for nothing, leave all.
But I cannot, fortunately, I cannot.
There is in me more good than there is bad.
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These are my thoughts? What will my actions in the future be? Horror! Horror! Horror! The doubt of it.
I know I shall never prostitute with lust or vice what talent I have. I know I shall never defend false things. But will the acts of my life, those private, near to me be good and pure? What does the future hold – the future of what less, of what more is me?
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[1] me /I\
