the research magnificent-第21章

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d　to　him；　was　simply　nationalism　with　megalomania。　　It　was　swaggering；　it　was　greed；　it　was　German；　its　enthusiasm　was　forced；　its　nobility　a　vulgar　lie。　No。　　And　when　he　turned　to　the　opposite　party　he　found　little　that　was　more　attractive。　　They　were　prepared；　it　seemed；　if　they　came　into　office；　to　pull　the　legislature　of　the　British　Isles　to　pieces　in　obedience　to　the　Irish　demand　for　Home　Rule；　and　they　were　totally　unprepared　with　any　scheme　for　doing　this　that　had　even　a　chance　of　success。　　In　the　twenty　years　that　had　elapsed　since　Gladstone's　hasty　and　disastrous　essay　in　political　surgery　they　had　studied　nothing；　learnt　nothing；　produced　no　ideas　whatever　in　the　matter。　　They　had　not　had　the　time。　　They　had　just　negotiated；　like　the　mere　politicians　they　were；　for　the　Nationalist　vote。　　They　seemed　to　hope　that　by　a　marvel　God　would　pacify　Ulster。　　Lord　Dunraven；　Plunkett；　were　voices　crying　in　the　wilderness。　　The　sides　in　the　party　game　would　as　soon　have　heeded　a　poet。　。　。　。　　But　unless　Benham　was　prepared　to　subscribe　either　to　Home　Rule　or　Tariff　Reform　there　was　no　way　whatever　open　to　him　into　public　life。　　He　had　had　some　decisive　conversations。　　He　had　no　illusions　left　upon　that　score。　。　。　。　Here　was　the　real　barrier　that　had　kept　him　inactive　for　ten　months。　Here　was　the　problem　he　had　to　solve。　　This　was　how　he　had　been　left　out　of　active　things；　a　prey　to　distractions；　excitements；　idle　temptationsand　Mrs。　Skelmersdale。　Running　away　to　shoot　big　game　or　explore　wildernesses　was　no　remedy。　　That　was　just　running　away。　　Aristocrats　do　not　run　away。　What　of　his　debt　to　those　men　down　there　in　the　quarry？　　What　of　his　debt　to　the　unseen　men　in　the　mines　away　in　the　north？　　What　of　his　debt　to　the　stokers　on　the　liners；　and　to　the　clerks　in　the　city？　He　reiterated　the　cardinal　article　of　his　creed：　The　aristocrat　is　a　privileged　man　in　order　that　he　may　be　a　public　and　political　man。　But　how　is　one　to　be　a　political　man　when　one　is　not　in　politics？　Benham　frowned　at　the　Weald。　　His　ideas　were　running　thin。　He　might　hammer　at　politics　from　the　outside。　　And　then　again　how？　He　would　make　a　list　of　all　the　things　that　he　might　do。　　For　example　he　might　write。　　He　rested　one　hand　on　his　knee　and　lifted　one　finger　and　regarded　it。　　COULD　he　write？　　There　were　one　or　two　men　who　ran　papers　and　seemed　to　have　a　sort　of　independent　influence。　　Strachey；　for　example；　with　his　SPECTATOR；　Maxse；　with　his　NATIONAL　REVIEW。　　But　they　were　grown　up；　they　had　formed　their　ideas。　　He　had　to　learn　first。　He　lifted　a　second　finger。　　How　to　learn？　　For　it　was　learning　that　he　had　to　do。　When　one　comes　down　from　Oxford　or　Cambridge　one　falls　into　the　mistake　of　thinking　that　learning　is　over　and　action　must　begin。　But　until　one　perceives　clearly　just　where　one　stands　action　is　impossible。　How　is　one　with　no　experience　of　affairs　to　get　an　experience　of　affairs　when　the　door　of　affairs　is　closed　to　one　by　one's　own　convictions？　　Outside　of　affairs　how　can　one　escape　being　flimsy？　How　can　one　escape　becoming　merely　an　intellectual　like　those　wordy　Fabians；　those　writers；　poseurs；　and　sham　publicists　whose　wrangles　he　had　attended？　　And；　moreover；　there　is　danger　in　the　leisure　of　your　intellectual。　　One　cannot　be　always　reading　and　thinking　and　discussing　and　inquiring。　。　。　。　　WOULD　IT　NOT　BE　BETTER　AFTER　ALL　TO　MAKE　A　CONCESSION；　SWALLOW　HOME　RULE　OR　TARIFF　REFORM；　AND　SO　AT　LEAST　GET　HIS　HANDS　ON　THINGS？　And　then　in　a　little　while　the　party　conflict　would　swallow　him　up？　Still　it　would　engage　him；　it　would　hold　him。　　If；　perhaps；　he　did　not　let　it　swallow　him　up。　　If　he　worked　with　an　eye　open　for　opportunities　of　self…assertion。　。　。　。　The　party　game　had　not　altogether　swallowed　〃Mr。　Arthur。〃　。　。　。　But　every　one　is　not　a　Balfour。　。　。　。　He　reflected　profoundly。　　On　his　left　knee　his　left　hand　rested　with　two　fingers　held　up。　　By　some　rapid　mental　alchemy　these　fingers　had　now　become　Home　Rule　and　Tariff　Reform。　　His　right　hand　which　had　hitherto　taken　no　part　in　the　controversy；　had　raised　its　index　finger　by　imperceptible　degrees。　　It　had　been　raised　almost　subconsciously。　　And　by　still　obscurer　processes　this　finger　had　become　Mrs。　Skelmersdale。　　He　recognized　her　sudden　reappearance　above　the　threshold　of　consciousness　with　mild　surprise。　　He　had　almost　forgotten　her　share　in　these　problems。　　He　had　supposed　her　dismissed　to　an　entirely　subordinate　position。　。　。　。　Then　he　perceived　that　the　workmen　in　the　chalk　pit　far　below　had　knocked　off　and　were　engaged　upon　their　midday　meal。　　He　understood　why　his　mind　was　no　longer　moving　forward　with　any　alacrity。　Food？　The　question　where　he　should　eat　arose　abruptly　and　dismissed　all　other　problems　from　his　mind。　　He　unfolded　a　map。Here　must　be　the　chalk　pit；　here　was　Dorking。　　That　village　was　Brockham　Green。　Should　he　go　down　to　Dorking　or　this　way　over　Box　Hill　to　the　little　inn　at　Burford　Bridge。　　He　would　try　the　latter。

14

The　April　sunset　found　our　young　man　talking　to　himself　for　greater　emphasis；　and　wandering　along　a　turfy　cart…track　through　a　wilderness　mysteriously　planted　with　great　bushes　of　rhododendra　on　the　Downs　above　Shere。　　He　had　eaten　a　belated　lunch　at　Burford　Bridge；　he　had　got　some　tea　at　a　little　inn　near　a　church　with　a　splendid　yew　tree；　and　for　the　rest　of　the　time　he　had　wandered　and　thought。　　He　had　travelled　perhaps　a　dozen　or　fifteen　miles；　and　a　good　way　from　his　first　meditations　above　the　Dorking　chalk　pit。　He　had　recovered　long　ago　from　that　remarkable　conception　of　an　active　if　dishonest　political　career　as　a　means　of　escaping　Mrs。　Skelmersdale　and　all　that　Mrs。　Skelmersdale　symbolized。　　That　would　be　just　louting　from　one　bad　thing　to　another。　　He　had　to　settle　Mrs。　Skelmersdale　clean　and　right；　and　he　had　to　do　as　exquisitely　right　in　politics　as　he　could　devise。　　If　the　public　life　of　the　country　had　got　itself　into　a　stupid　antagonism　of　two　undesirable　things；　the　only　course　for　a　sane　man　of　honour　was　to　stand　out　from　the　parties　and　try　and　get　them　back　to　sound　issues　again。　There　must　be　endless　people　of　a　mind　with　himself　in　this　matter。　And　even　if　there　were　not；　if　he　was　the　only　man　in　the　world；　he　still　had　to　follow　his　lights　and　do　the　right。　　And　his　business　was　to　find　out　the　right。　。　。　。　He　came　back　from　these　imaginative　excursions　into　contemporary　politics　with　one　idea　confirmed　in　his　mind；　an　idea　that　had　been　indeed　already　in　his　mind　during　his　Cambridge　days。　　This　was　the　idea　of　working　out　for　himself；　thoroughly　and　completely；　a　political　scheme；　a　theory　of　his　work　and　duty　in　the　world；　a　plan　of　the　world's　future　that　should　give　a　rule　for　his　life。　　The　Research　Magnificent　was　emerging。　　It　was　an　alarmingly　vast　proposal；　but　he　could　see　no　alternative　but　submission；　a　plebeian's　submission　to　the　currents　of　life　about　him。　Little　pictures　began　to　flit　before　his　imagination　of　the　way　in　which　he　might　build　up　this　tremendous　inquiry。　　He　would　begin　by　hunting　up　people；　everybody　who　seemed　to　have　ideas　and　promise　ideas　he　would　get　at。　　He　would　travel　farand　exhaustively。　　He　would；　so　soon　as　the　ideas　seemed　to　indicate　it；　hunt　out　facts。　He　would　learn　how　the　world　was　governed。　　He　would　learn　how　it　did　its　thinking。　　He　would　live　sparingly。　　（〃Not　TOO　sparingly；''　something　interpolated。）　　He　would　work　ten　or　twelve　hours　a　day。　Such　a　course　of　investigation　must　pass　almost　of　its　own　accord　into　action　and　realization。　　He　need　not　trouble　now　how　it　would　bring　him　into　politics。　　Inevitably　somewhere　it　would　bring　him　into　politics。　　And　he　would　travel。　　Almost　at　once　he　would　travel。　　It　is　the　manifest　duty　of　every　young　aristocrat　to　travel。　　Here　he　was；　ruling　India。　　At　any　rate；　passively；　through　the　mere　fact　of　being　English；　he　was　ruling　India。　　And　he　knew　nothing　of　India。　　He　knew　nothing　indeed　of　Asia。　　So　soon　as　he　returned　to　London　his　preparations　for　this　travel　must　begin；　he　must　plot　out　the　men　to　whom　he　would　go；　and　so　contrive　that　also　he　would　go　round　the　world。　　Perhaps　he　would　get　Lionel　Maxim　to　go　with　him。　　Or　if　Maxim　could　not　come；　then　possibly　Prothero。　Some　one　surely　could　be　found；　some　one　thinking　and　talking　of　statecraft　and　the　larger　idea　of　life。　　All　the　world　is　not　swallowed　up　in　every　day。　。　。　。

15

His　mind　shifted　very　suddenly　from　these　large　proposals　to　an　entirely　different　theme。　　These　mental　landslips　are　not　unusual　when　men　are　thinking　hard　and　wandering。　　He　found　himself　holding　a　trial　upon　himself　for　Presumptuousness；　for　setting　himself　up　against　the　wisdom　of　the　ages；　and　the　decisions　of　all　the　established　men　in　the　world；　for　being　in　short　a　Presumptuous　Sort　of　Ass。　　He　was　judge　and　jury　and　prosecutor；　but　rather　inexplicably　the　defence　was　conducted　in　an　irregular　and　undignified　way　by　some　inferior　stratum　of　his　being。　At　first　the　defence　contented　itself　with　arguments　that　did　at　least　aim　to　rebut　the　indictment。　　The　decisions　of　all　the　established　men　in　the　world　were　notoriously　in　conflict。　　However　great　was　the　gross　wisdom　of　the　ages　the　net　wisdom　was　remarkably　small。　　Was　it　after　all　so　very　immodest　to　believe　that　the　Liberals　were　right　in　what　they　said　about　Tariff　Reform；　and　the　Tories　right　in　their　criticism　of　Home　Rule？　And　then　suddenly　the　defence　threw　aside　its　mask　and　insisted　that　Benham　had　to　take　this　presumptuous　line　because　there　was　no　other　tolerable　line　possible　for　him。　〃Better　die　with　the　Excelsior　chap　up　the　mountains；〃　the　defence　interjected。　Than　what？　Consider　the　quality　Benham　had　already　betrayed。　　He　was　manifestly　incapable　of　a　decent　modest　mediocre　existence。　　Already　he　had　ceased　to　beif　one　may　use　so　fine　a　word　for　genteel　abstinence　virtuous。　　He　didn't　ride　well；　he　hadn't　good　hands；　and　he　hadn't　good　hands　for　life。　　He　must　go　hard　and　harsh；　high　or　low。　　He　was　a　man　who　needed　BITE　in　his　life。　　He　was　exceptionally　capable　of　boredom。　　He　had　been　bored　by　London。　　Social　occasions　irritated　him；　several　times　he　had　come　near　to　gross　incivilities；　art　annoyed　him；　sport　was　an　effort；　wholesome　perhaps；　but　unattractive；　music　he　loved；　but　it　excited　him。　　The　defendant　broke　the　sunset　calm　by　uttering　amazing　and　improper　phrases。　〃I　can't　smug　about　in　a　state　of　falsified　righteousness　like　these　Crampton　chaps。　〃I　shall　roll　in　women。　　I　shall　rollick　in　women。　　If；　that　is；　I　stay　in　London　with　nothing　more　to　do　than　I　have　had　this　year　past。　〃I've　been　sliding　fast　to　it。　。　。　。　〃NO！　　I'M　DAMNED　IF　I　DO！　。　。　。

16

For　some　time　he　had　been　bothered　by　a　sense　of　something；　something　else；　awaiting　his　attention。　　Now　it　came　swimming　up　into　his　consciousness。　　He　had　forgotten。　　He　was；　of　course；　going　to　sleep　out　under　the　stars。　He　had　settled　that　overnight；　that　was　why　he　had　this　cloak　in　his　rucksack；　but　he　had　settled　none　of　the　details。　　Now　he　must　find　some　place　where　he　could　lie　down。　　Here；　perhaps；　in　this　strange　forgotten　wilderness　of　rhododendra。　He　turned　off　from　the　track　and　wandered　among　the　bushes。　　One　might　lie　down　anywhere　here。　　But　not　yet；　it　was　as　yet　barely　twilight。　　He　consulted　his　watch。　　HALF…PAST　SEVEN。　Nearly　dinner…time。　。　。　。　No　dou