the new machiavelli-第10章

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the　Blackfriars。



I　heard　the　paper's　name　with　a　queer　little　shock　and　surveyed　the　

man　with　interest。　　No　doubt　he　was　only　a　successor　of　the　purveyor　

of　discords　who　darkened　my　boyhood。　　It　was　amazing　to　find　an　

influence　so　terrible　embodied　in　a　creature　so　palpably　petty。　　He　

was　seated　some　way　down　a　table　at　right　angles　to　the　one　at　which　

I　sat；　a　man　of　mean　appearance　with　a　greyish　complexion；　thin；　

with　a　square　nose；　a　heavy　wiry　moustache　and　a　big　Adam's　apple　

sticking　out　between　the　wings　of　his　collar。　　He　ate　with　

considerable　appetite　and　unconcealed　relish；　and　as　his　jaw　was　

underhung；　he　chummed　and　made　the　moustache　wave　like　reeds　in　the　

swell　of　a　steamer。　　It　gave　him　a　conscientious　look。　　After　dinner　

he　a　little　forced　himself　upon　me。　　At　that　time；　though　the　shadow　

of　my　scandal　was　already　upon　me；　I　still　seemed　to　be　shaping　for　

great　successes；　and　he　was　glad　to　be　in　conversation　with　me　and　

anxious　to　intimate　political　sympathy　and　support。　　I　tried　to　make　

him　talk　of　the　HOME　CHURCHMAN　and　the　kindred　publications　he　ran；　

but　he　was　manifestly　ashamed　of　his　job　so　far　as　I　was　concerned。



〃One　wants；〃　he　said；　pitching　himself　as　he　supposed　in　my　key；　〃to　

put　constructive　ideas　into　our　readers；　but　they　are　narrow；　you　

know；　very　narrow。　　Very。〃　　He　made　his　moustache　and　lips　express　

judicious　regret。　　〃One　has　to　consider　them　carefully；　one　has　to　

respect　their　attitudes。　　One　dare　not　go　too　far　with　them。　　One　

has　to　feel　one's　way。〃



He　chummed　and　the　moustache　bristled。



A　hireling；　beyond　question；　catering　for　a　demand。　　I　gathered　

there　was　a　home　in　Tufnell　Park；　and　three　boys　to　be　fed　and　

clothed　and　educated。　。　。　。



I　had　the　curiosity　to　buy　a　copy　of　his　magazine　afterwards；　and　it　

seemed　much　the　same　sort　of　thing　that　had　worried　my　mother　in　my　

boyhood。　　There　was　the　usual　Christian　hero；　this　time　with　mutton…

chop　whiskers　and　a　long　bare　upper　lip。　　The　Jesuits；　it　seemed；　

were　still　hard　at　it；　and　Heaven　frightfully　upset　about　the　Sunday　

opening　of　museums　and　the　falling　birth…rate；　and　as　touchy　and　

vindictive　as　ever。　　There　were　two　vigorous　paragraphs　upon　the　

utter　damnableness　of　the　Rev。　R。　J。　Campbell；　a　contagious　

damnableness　I　gathered；　one　wasn't　safe　within　a　mile　of　Holborn　

Viaduct；　and　a　foul…mouthed　attack　on　poor　little　Wilkins　the　

novelistwho　was　being　baited　by　the　moralists　at　that　time　for　

making　one　of　his　big　women　characters；　not　being　in　holy　wedlock；　

desire　a　baby　and　say　so。　。　。　。



The　broadening　of　human　thought　is　a　slow　and　complex　process。　　We　

do　go　on；　we　do　get　on。　　But　when　one　thinks　that　people　are　living　

and　dying　now；　quarrelling　and　sulking；　misled　and　misunderstanding；　

vaguely　fearful；　condemning　and　thwarting　one　another　in　the　close　

darknesses　of　these　narrow　cultsOh；　God！　one　wants　a　gale　out　of　

Heaven；　one　wants　a　great　wind　from　the　sea！





3



While　I　lived　at　Penge　two　little　things　happened　to　me；　trivial　in　

themselves　and　yet　in　their　quality　profoundly　significant。　　They　

had　this　in　common；　that　they　pierced　the　texture　of　the　life　I　was　

quietly　taking　for　granted　and　let　me　see　through　it　into　realities

realities　I　had　indeed　known　about　before　but　never　realised。　　Each　

of　these　experiences　left　me　with　a　sense　of　shock；　with　all　the　

values　in　my　life　perplexingly　altered；　attempting　readjustment。　　

One　of　these　disturbing　and　illuminating　events　was　that　I　was　

robbed　of　a　new　pocket…knife　and　the　other　that　I　fell　in　love。　　It　

was　altogether　surprising　to　me　to　be　robbed。　　You　see；　as　an　only　

child　I　had　always　been　fairly　well　looked　after　and　protected；　and　

the　result　was　an　amazing　confidence　in　the　practical　goodness　of　

the　people　one　met　in　the　world。　　I　knew　there　were　robbers　in　the　

world；　just　as　I　knew　there　were　tigers；　that　I　was　ever　likely　to　

meet　robber　or　tiger　face　to　face　seemed　equally　impossible。



The　knife　as　I　remember　it　was　a　particularly　jolly　one　with　all　

sorts　of　instruments　in　it；　tweezers　and　a　thing　for　getting　a　stone　

out　of　the　hoof　of　a　horse；　and　a　corkscrew；　it　had　cost　me　a　

carefuly　accumulated　half…crown；　and　amounted　indeed　to　a　new　

experience　in　knives。　　I　had　had　it　for　two　or　three　days；　and　then　

one　afternoon　I　dropped　it　through　a　hole　in　my　pocket　on　a　footpath　

crossing　a　field　between　Penge　and　Anerley。　　I　heard　it　fall　in　the　

way　one　does　without　at　the　time　appreciating　what　had　happened；　

then；　later；　before　I　got　home；　when　my　hand　wandered　into　my　pocket　

to　embrace　the　still　dear　new　possession　I　found　it　gone；　and　

instantly　that　memory　of　something　hitting　the　ground　sprang　up　into　

consciousness。　　I　went　back　and　commenced　a　search。　　Almost　

immediately　I　was　accosted　by　the　leader　of　a　little　gang　of　four　or　

five　extremely　dirty　and　ragged　boys　of　assorted　sizes　and　slouching　

carriage　who　were　coming　from　the　Anerley　direction。



〃Lost　anythink；　Matey？〃　said　he。



I　explained。



〃'E's　dropped　'is　knife；〃　said　my　interlocutor；　and　joined　in　the　

search。



〃What　sort　of　'andle　was　it；　Matey？〃　said　a　small　white…faced　

sniffing　boy　in　a　big　bowler　hat。



I　supplied　the　information。　　His　sharp　little　face　scrutinised　the　

ground　about　us。



〃GOT　it；〃　he　said；　and　pounced。



〃Give　it　'ere；〃　said　the　big　boy　hoarsely；　and　secured　it。



I　walked　towards　him　serenely　confident　that　he　would　hand　it　over　

to　me；　and　that　all　was　for　the　best　in　the　best　of　all　possible　

worlds。



〃No　bloomin'　fear！〃　he　said；　regarding　me　obliquely。　　〃Oo　said　it　

was　your　knife？〃



Remarkable　doubts　assailed　me。　　〃Of　course　it's　my　knife；〃　I　said。　　

The　other　boys　gathered　round　me。



〃This　ain't　your　knife；〃　said　the　big　boy；　and　spat　casually。



〃I　dropped　it　just　now。〃



〃Findin's　keepin's；　I　believe；〃　said　the　big　boy。



〃Nonsense；〃　I　said。　　〃Give　me　my　knife。〃



〃'Ow　many　blades　it　got？〃



〃Three。〃



〃And　what　sort　of　'andle？〃



〃Bone。〃



〃Got　a　corkscrew　like？〃



〃Yes。〃



〃Ah！　　This　ain't　your　knife　no'ow。　　See？〃



He　made　no　offer　to　show　it　to　me。　　My　breath　went。



〃Look　here！〃　I　said。　　〃I　saw　that　kid　pick　it　up。　　It　IS　my　knife。〃



〃Rot！〃　said　the　big　boy；　and　slowly；　deliberately　put　my　knife　into　

his　trouser　pocket。



I　braced　my　soul　for　battle。　　All　civilisation　was　behind　me；　but　I　

doubt　if　it　kept　the　colour　in　my　face。　　I　buttoned　my　jacket　and　

clenched　my　fists　and　advanced　on　my　antagonisthe　had；　I　suppose；　

the　advantage　of　two　years　of　age　and　three　inches　of　height。　　〃Hand　

over　that　knife；〃　I　said。



Then　one　of　the　smallest　of　the　band　assailed　me　with　extraordinary　

vigour　and　swiftness　from　behind；　had　an　arm　round　my　neck　and　a　

knee　in　my　back　before　I　had　the　slightest　intimation　of　attack；　and　

so　got　me　down。　　〃I　got　'im；　Bill；〃　squeaked　this　amazing　little　

ruffian。　　My　nose　was　flattened　by　a　dirty　hand；　and　as　I　struck　out　

and　hit　something　like　sacking；　some　one　kicked　my　elbow。　　Two　or　

three　seemed　to　be　at　me　at　the　same　time。　　Then　I　rolled　over　and　

sat　up　to　discover　them　all　making　off；　a　ragged　flight；　footballing　

my　cap；　my　City　Merchants'　cap；　amongst　them。　　I　leapt　to　my　feet　in　

a　passion　of　indignation　and　pursued　them。



But　I　did　not　overtake　them。　　We　are　beings　of　mixed　composition；　

and　I　doubt　if　mine　was　a　single…minded　pursuit。　　I　knew　that　honour　

required　me　to　pursue；　and　I　had　a　vivid　impression　of　having　just　

been　down　in　the　dust　with　a　very　wiry　and　active　and　dirty　little　

antagonist　of　disagreeable　odour　and　incredible　and　incalculable　

unscrupulousness；　kneeling　on　me　and　gripping　my　arm　and　neck。　　I　

wanted　of　course　to　be　even　with　him；　but　also　I　doubted　if　catching　

him　would　necessarily　involve　that。　　They　kicked　my　cap　into　the　

ditch　at　the　end　of　the　field；　and　made　off　compactly　along　a　cinder　

lane　while　I　turned　aside　to　recover　my　dishonoured　headdress。　　As　I　

knocked　the　dust　out　of　that　and　out　of　my　jacket；　and　brushed　my　

knees　and　readjusted　my　very　crumpled　collar；　I　tried　to　focus　this　

startling　occurrence　in　my　mind。



I　had　vague　ideas　of　going　to　a　policeman　or　of　complaining　at　a　

police　station；　but　some　boyish　instinct　against　informing　prevented　

that。　　No　doubt　I　entertained　ideas　of　vindictive　pursuit　and　

murderous　reprisals。　　And　I　was　acutely　enraged　whenever　I　thought　

of　my　knife。　　The　thing　indeed　rankled　in　my　mind　for　weeks　and　

weeks；　and　altered　all　the　flavour　of　my　world　for　me。　　It　was　the　

first　time　I　glimpsed　the　simple　brute　violence　that　lurks　and　peeps　

beneath　our　civilisation。　　A　certain　kindly　complacency　of　attitude　

towards　the　palpably　lower　classes　was　qualified　for　ever





4



But　the　other　experience　was　still　more　cardinal。　　It　was　the　first　

clear　intimation　of　a　new　motif　in　life；　the　sex　motif；　that　was　to　

rise　and　increase　and　accumulate　power　and　enrichment　and　interweave　

with　and　at　last　dominate　all　my　life。



It　was　when　I　was　nearly　fifteen　this　happened。　　It　is　inseparably　

connected　in　my　mind　with　the　dusk　of　warm　September　evenings。　　I　

never　met　the　girl　I　loved　by　daylight；　and　I　have　forgotten　her　

name。　　It　was　some　insignificant　name。



Yet　the　peculiar　quality　of　the　adventure　keeps　it　shining　darkly　

like　some　deep　coloured　gem　in　the　common　setting　of　my　memories。　　

It　came　as　something　new　and　strange；　something　that　did　not　join　on　

to　anything　else　in　my　life　or　connect　with　any　of　my　thoughts　or　

beliefs　or　habits；　it　was　a　wonder；　a　mystery；　a　discovery　about　

myself；　a　discovery　about　the　whole　world。　　Only　in　after　years　did　

sexual　feeling　lose　that　isolation　and　spread　itself　out　to　

illuminate　and　pervade　and　at　last　possess　the　whole　broad　vision　of　

life。



It　was　in　that　phase　of　an　urban　youth's　development；　the　phase　of　

the　cheap　cigarette；　that　this　thing　happened。　　One　evening　I　came　

by　chance　on　a　number　of　young　people　promenading　by　the　light　of　a　

row　of　shops　towards　Beckington；　and；　with　all　the　glory　of　a　

glowing　cigarette　between　my　lips；　I　joined　their　strolling　number。　　

These　twilight　parades　of　young　people；　youngsters　chiefly　of　the　

lower　middle…class；　are　one　of　the　odd　social　developments　of　the　

great　suburban　growthsunkindly　critics；　blind　to　the　inner　

meanings　of　things；　call　them；　I　believe；　Monkeys'　Paradesthe　shop　

apprentices；　the　young　work　girls；　the　boy　clerks　and　so　forth；　

stirred　by　mysterious　intimations；　spend　their　first…earned　money　

upon　collars　and　ties；　chiffon　hats；　smart　lace　collars；　walking…

sticks；　sunshades　or　cigarettes；　and　come　valiantly　into　the　vague　

transfiguring　mingling　of　gaslight　and　evening；　to　walk　up　and　down；　

to　eye　meaningly；　even　to　accost　and　make　friends。　　It　is　a　queer