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XVIII
ALTHOUGH GURDJIEFF
WAS always set apart from everyone
else at the Prieure, unquestioned, and accorded great respect
which was combined with a proper element of fear, his "dicta-
torship" was also very benevolent. There was a side of his
nature that was not only physically magnetic and animal-like,
but extremely earthy. His sense of humour was often very
subtle, in an oriental sense, but also had a broad, crude side,
and he was a very sensual man.
He manifested this side of himself particularly when he
was alone with the men and boys -- in the Turkish bath or,
during the summer, at the swimming pool. Our swimming
pool was at the far end of the formal lawns and gardens, facing
the chateau beyond the expanse of lawns. Contrary to popular
belief, there was no mingling of the sexes in any "immoral"
sense. The men and women bathed separately at the bath,
and different hours were allotted for male or female use of
the swimming pool. There was, in fact, a very strict code of
morality in this purely physical sense, and we were highly
amused when people sent us clippings from the Sunday
supplements of various newspapers which "proved" that the
Institute was a nudist colony, or a "free-love" group -- some
sort of crack-pot organization tinged with a certain licentious
ness. Actually the nearest thing to "nudity" was the common
habit -- for some of the men only, of course -- of working out
of doors stripped to the waist. And, while it was true that we
swam without bathing suits, the swimming pool was equipped
with curtains which were always drawn whenever anyone
went in swimming. It was forbidden, in fact, for even the small
children to swim without drawing the curtains.
In spite of Gurdjieff's many preoccupations
-- especially his
wife's illness -- that summer, he frequently joined the other men
and the boys at their allotted hour before lunch at the swimming
pool When everyone had stripped, Gurdjieff would, inevitably,
begin to joke about their bodies, their sexual prowess, their
varIous physical habits. The jokes were usually what would be
called "dirty" or at least "lewd" and he found all such stories
highly amusing, whether he told them or whether they were
told by the other men who were quick to join in the spirit of
such joking. One of his favourite amusements or diversions at
the swimming pool was to line all the men up facing in one
direction and then compare their sunburns. This became
a ritual of what Gurdjieff called the "white ass" club. He
would look at all of us from the rear, remarking on the various
shades of tan or sunburn, and the glowing whiteness of our
buttocks. He would then make us all turn around and make
additional comments on the size and variety of male genitalia
exposed to him. Finally, we would, each time he appeared to
swim, be rated, as members in good standing of his "white ass"
club. Tom and I usually rated high -- in addition to deeply
tanned backs and chests, since we were children and wore
shorts, our legs were also deeply tanned, and because of this
he would make some comment, usually to the effect that our
small buttocks were "asses that shine with whiteness, like
stars."
A good many of the older men, particularly the Russians,
not only did not expose themselves to the sun, but rather
disliked any form of nudity and were usually embarrassed by
these proceedings. They, of course, rated very low on the list,
but Gurdjieff, himself, was the lowest. So low, as he said, that
he actually belonged to a different club. Since he always wore
a hat -- winter and summer -- although his face was dark, his
bald head was a glistening white. His club, of which he was
the president and sole member, was called something like the
"white crown" club, and he would compare the whiteness of
his bald pate with the whiteness -- he made elaborate com-
parisons of the degree of white always -- of our behinds.
One of his favourite stories on these occasions was a long,
involved tale about a farmhand who was having an affair with
the farmer's wife. The farmer, suspecting his wife and the
farmhand, went searching for them with his rifle, and dis-
covered them when he perceived, in the moonlight, the farm-
hand's white ass, bouncing rhythmically through the darkness,
shining in the reflected light of the moon. Although these
stories were often repeated and many of them were not, in the
first place, particularly funny, his own immense enjoyment
in telling them made us all laugh. He was a superb story-
teller, spinning out even the dullest tales to such fantastic
lengths, embellishing them with such ornamention and detail,
accompanied by pointed, significant gestures and expressions,
that it was impossible not to listen to him with total absorption.
The subtler side of his humour
-- which was always compli-
cated and involved -- expressed itself very differently. Early
that summer, a group of us, for our own amusement, had been
exploring the cellars of the main building and we had come
across a tunnel. While we did follow it for almost half a mile,
the rats, cobwebs, and mouldy dankness, and the complete
darkness, kept us from trying to reach its end. There was a
rumour that, since the Prieure had been reputedly built by
Louis XIV for Madame de Maintenon, this was an under-
ground passage to the Palace of Fontainebleau. Be that as it
may, Gurdjieff was greatly interested in our discovery of this
tunnel, and went to examine it personally.
A week or so after this discovery, he told me that he had an
important job for me. He talked at some length about the
tunnel, and then asked me to take a bottle of the ordinary red
wine which we drank at meals, and bought at that time for
about eight cents a litre, open it, pour out half of it and then
refill the bottle by the addition of half a bottle of sparkling
Perrier water. I was then to re cork the bottle, seal it with
sealing wax, cover it with sand and cobwebs -- "wonderful
cobwebs for this purpose in tunnel" -- and bring it to him when
he called for it.
I must have looked puzzled, and he went on to explain that
two very distinguished guests were scheduled to visit him the
following week. This wine was being prepared especially for
them. He would call me and when he asked for "one of the
bottles of the special old wine" I was to bring this bottle with
a cork-screw and two glasses. He smiled a good deal during
these instructions and I made no comment about them,
although I knew that he was "up to something" -- a phrase
he often used when he was planning anything.
The two visitors arrived. They were well-known to me, in
fact they were well-known, by reputation, to everyone there,
and they elicited the automatic admiration and respect that
is generally accorded to "famous" people, whether actually
deserved or not. I ushered the visitors -- both women -- to
Gurdjieff's room and then retired to my waiting post near the
bell (there were two bells for me -- one in the kitchen and one
in my room) .When I heard the expected ring I ran to his room
and was told to bring "the special old, rare wine that we had
found during a recent project of excavating the ruins of the
original monastery". This colourful exaggeration had a basis in
fact. The Prieure had been, in the 12th century, a monastery
and there were a few ruins to substantiate this. Those ruins, of
course, had nothing at all to do with the tunnel from the
cellars. The original monastery building had been at a com-
pletely different location on the property.
I brought the wine as I had been instructed with only two
glasses, the bottle completely covered with dirt, sand and
cobwebs, plus a napkin with which to hold it -- my personal
touch of elegance. Before telling me to open the bottle (he
simply told me to wait there for a few minutes) he told them
the story of the wine that was about to be served.
He began with a long, and highly inaccurate, account of
the founding of the Prieure (in goo) by some order of monks
who, among other things, like all monks, made wine. "These
special monks; very intelligent. Monks like this no longer
exist on earth. With such intelligence," he continued, "natur-
ally such monk make also very wonderful wine."
He then said, with a quick, stern glance at me, as if to
silence any possible laughter from me, "I have many projects,
all very important, at Prieure. One project this year is excava-
rion of old ruins." He then described, at great length, the
number of people and the great energy involved in this project
and how, miraculously, we had come across eleven bottles of
wine. ..wine that had been made by these self-same
intelligent monks. "Now come problem for me ... who I
know worthy to drink such wine; wine that no longer exist
anywhere in world except here at Prieure? This wine too good
for me. I already ruin stomach with drinking Armagnac. Then
I think of just you ladies, who, as if by Act of God, plan to
visit me. J ust most suitable ladies to first taste this wine."
I was then ordered to open the bottle. I wrapped it in the
napkin, uncorked it and poured a little of the "wine" into
the two glasses. Gurdjieff watched me with great intensity,
and when I passed the wine to the two ladies, he turned his
equally intense attention to them; he appeared to be burning
with anticipation, unable to wait for their reaction.
The ladies, properly impressed and suiting their actions to the
momentous occasion, lifted their glasses gingerly in his direction
and sipped, delicately. Gurdjieff was unable to restrain him-
self. "Tell!" he commanded them. "How taste this wine ?"
The ladies, as if overcome, were momentarily unable to
speak. At last, one of them, with half-closed eyes, murmured
that it was "superb"; the other adding that she had never
tasted anything to compare with it.
Puzzled, and embarrassed on their account, I started to
leave the room but Gurdjieff stopped me with a firm gesture
and indicated that I was to refill their glasses. I stayed with
them until they had finished the bottle, with continued appro-
priate exclamations of rapture and ecstasy. He then told me
to take the bottle and glasses, to prepare their rooms -- on the
very same floor as his -- one room in which Napoleon had slept,
the other having been occupied at some point by some King's
mistress -- and to let him know when the rooms were ready.
The rooms, of course, had been ready that morning, but
I laid fires in the fireplaces, waited a suitable time and then
returned to his room. He told me to take them to their rooms,
and then instructed them that they must rest after the exper-
ience of having tasted this marvellous wine, and must prepare
for the feast of the evening -- a great feast which was being
prepared, especially in their honour.
When I saw him later, alone, his only mention of the wine-
drinking episode was to congratulate me on the appearance
of the bottle. I gave him a significant, knowing look as if to
tell him that I had understood what he was doing, and he said,
rather seriously, but with a faint, mocking smile on his face :
"Way you look, I know you already make judgment of this
ladies; but remember what I tell before, necessary look all
sides, all directions before make judgment. You not forget
this."
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