The Bell

An abbey of cloistered nuns hidden in the dense woods of Gloucestershire, in the West of England.  Across the small lake from the abbey, Imber Court -- an ancient manor house, now somewhat decayed, where a small band of Anglican men and women attempt to live, under the shadow and guidance of the abbey, lives falling half way between that of the mundane, modern, daily world and the exalted and almost medieval world of those subject to religious vows. 

Religious sincerity, inter-personal strife, ancient legends, self-delusion, jealousy, and revenge -- all take place within a small, self-contained world reminiscent of an Agatha Christie novel.  And in the lake -- legends of an ancient bell that long ago flew from the abbey into the lake in response to a bishop's curse.

I first read Iris Murdoch's The Bell when I was in my twenties, and those were my vague memories of what I had read.  I have never read any other novel -- and there have been twenty-five -- written by Ms. Murdoch, but a recent article about the author encouraged me to re-read The Bell.

Murdoch, a graduate of Oxford, where she pursued a course combining literature and philosophy, and a fellow at Cambridge where she did post-graduate work in philosophy, taught philosophy at Oxford for fifteen years in the mid-1950s.  She wrote her first novel in 1953.  The Bell (1958) was her fourth work of fiction.

I detail her background to emphasize that Iris Murdoch's novels -- which are quite readable, and many of which were quite popular -- were not superficial pop fiction.  However, I'm afraid that's how I read The Bell on first reading -- as a rather curious, almost Gothic adventure.  After re-reading the 1999 introduction (in my edition) by A. S. Byatt, I realize that even this time around I missed many of the philosophical currents in the novel. 

Therefore, I warn you that my comments are those of a reader trained in neither philosophy nor literary criticism.  I hope merely to suggest why I enjoyed it and why you might find it a good read.

Murdoch writes the novel formally in the third person, but writes from the viewpoint of three characters in alternating chapters -- Dora, Michael, and Toby.

Dora is in some ways the main character, and may be viewed as representing a typical modern type -- she has no belief system, she reacts rather than thinks, she sees herself as practical-minded and yet is intimidated by the high-minded people about her at Imber Court.  She comes from a lower middle class London background, has studied art although she has no real talent, and has married Paul, a totally unsuitable spouse who is considerably older than Dora, is an intellectual of sorts, and is rigid in his thinking and selfish in his dealings with other people, especially Dora.

The story begins with Dora's arrival in Imber, where she has come to rejoin her husband after she had briefly "abandoned" him.  Through her eyes, we picture Imber -- luxuriant in vegetation, imposing in architecture, and filled with people who seemingly share a religious commitment and dedication which is wholly foreign to her way of thought.  Imber -- the abbey, the Court, and the surroundings -- are described in exquisite detail, but even so I wished a map had been provided.  But it wasn't necessary -- the detail is provided to create an impression of intensely dense surroundings, not facts essential to follow the story.

Dora arrives by train at the same time as James -- a co-leader of the Imber group -- and as 18-year-old Toby.  Young Toby has had an excellent upbringing and "public" school education.  He is innocent, happy, adventuresome, and religious, and he wishes to spend a portion of the summer at Imber before beginning his studies at Oxford.

On arrival, they meet the other members of the religious community, most critically Michael, who has inherited the Imber Court property and who, together with James, leads the community. 

The community engages in agricultural work, and is developing its own religious program -- a very "high church" program, parts of it in Latin, that observes the traditional monastic daily hours  -- with some guidance from an Anglican priest who also offers daily Mass.  The Abbess from across the lake is revered by all, and communicates rarely but with wisdom and compassion when she does.

Even the casual reader picks up the fact that James and Michael -- who are on excellent terms with each other and are equally dedicated to the Imber community -- have differing ethical philosophies.  James believes ethics is simple; we know the rules, and all we need to do is follow them,

The good man does what seems right, what the rule enjoins, without considering the consequences, without calculation or prevarication, knowing that God will make all for the best.  He does not amend the rules by the standards of this world.  Even if he cannot see how things will work out, he acts, trusting God.  He does the best thing, breaking through the complexities of situations, and knows that God will make that best thing fruitful.

Several days later, Michael delivered his own sermon, in which he compliments that of James and never suggests that their two sermons said quite the opposite in some ways:

We must not … perform an act because abstractly it seems to be a good act if in fact it is so contrary to our instinctive apprehensions of spiritual reality that we cannot carry it through ….  We must work, from inside outwards, through our strength, and by understanding and using exactly that energy which we have, acquire more.  … This is the struggle, pleasing surely in the sight of God, to become more fully and deeply the person that we are; and by exploring and hallowing every corner of our being, to bring into existence that one and perfect individual which God in creating us entrusted to our care.

The plot itself is simple and somewhat melodramatic.  As a teacher, fourteen years earlier, Michael had fallen in love with Nick, one of  his students.  Nothing had "happened" beyond long, intimate conversations, and Nick's hand, once, flirtatiously on Michael's knee.  But, in a moment of religious scruple, Nick had "confessed" their mutual affection, and Michael had been fired.  Nick, through an improbable coincidence, has ended up arriving at Imber, now a bitter alcoholic, and Michael has avoided him so far as possible.  Meanwhile, history repeats as Michael finds himself attracted to Toby.  Again, nothing happens aside from a quick, impulsive kiss, quickly regretted.  Nick learns of it, however, and -- apparently jealous and offended at being ignored -- orders Toby to "confess" Michael's attraction to James, which he does.  James is upset, but by then other developments are causing the Imber group to break up. 

As a final affront to Michael, Nick blows his own brains out with a shotgun.  Michael, who still cared for Nick despite Nick's sad degeneration, is overwhelmed with guilt.

Michael meets with the Abbess and reveals to her the entire story.  She is sympathetic, but suggests that Michael should have been more aggressive in approaching Nick and trying to help him, rather than worrying so much about his own feelings, fearing for his own moral purity and a possible revival as adults of the prior closeness they had as teacher and student.  In other words, Michael should have followed his own sermon, rather than acting according to James's more rigid standards of conduct.

And what about the bell of the title?  Oh there's a bell all right.  In fact, two bells.  I strongly suggest you read the book to learn about them.  Because … this post already is too long!