the new machiavelli-第46章

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How　is　he　to　understand　government　if　he　doesn't？　　It　scares　me　to　

think　of　your　lotby　a　sort　of　misapprehensionbeing　in　power。　　A　

kind　of　neuralgia　in　the　head；　by　way　of　government。　　I　don't　

understand　where　YOU　come　in。　　Those　othersthey've　no　lusts。　　

Their　ideal　is　anaemia。　　You　and　I；　we　had　at　least　a　lust　to　take　

hold　of　life　and　make　something　of　it。　　Theythey　want　to　take　hold　

of　life　and　make　nothing　of　it。　　They　want　to　cut　out　all　the　

stimulants。　　Just　as　though　life　was　anything　else　but　a　reaction　to　

stimulation！〃　。　。　。



He　began　to　talk　of　his　own　life。　　He　had　had　ill…fortune　through　

most　of　it。　　He　was　poor　and　unsuccessful；　and　a　girl　he　had　been　

very　fond　of　had　been　attacked　and　killed　by　a　horse　in　a　field　in　a　

very　horrible　manner。　　These　things　had　wounded　and　tortured　him；　

but　they　hadn't　broken　him。　　They　had；　it　seemed　to　me；　made　a　kind　

of　crippled　and　ugly　demigod　of　him。　　He　was；　I　began　to　perceive；　

so　much　better　than　I　had　any　right　to　expect。　　At　first　I　had　been　

rather　struck　by　his　unkempt　look；　and　it　made　my　reaction　all　the　

stronger。　　There　was　about　him　something；　a　kind　of　raw　and　bleeding　

faith　in　the　deep　things　of　life；　that　stirred　me　profoundly　as　he　

showed　it。　　My　set　of　people　had　irritated　him　and　disappointed　him。　　

I　discovered　at　his　touch　how　they　irritated　him。　　He　reproached　me　

boldly。　　He　made　me　feel　ashamed　of　my　easy　acquiescences　as　I　

walked　in　my　sleek　tall　neatness　beside　his　rather　old　coat；　his　

rather　battered　hat；　his　sturdier　shorter　shape；　and　listened　to　his　

denunciations　of　our　self…satisfied　New　Liberalism　and　

Progressivism。



〃It　has　the　same　relation　to　progressthe　reality　of　progressthat　

the　things　they　paint　on　door　panels　in　the　suburbs　have　to　art　and　

beauty。　　There's　a　sort　of　filiation。　。　。　。　　Your　Altiora's　just　the　

political　equivalent　of　the　ladies　who　sell　traced　cloth　for　

embroidery；　she's　a　dealer　in　Refined　Social　Reform　for　the　Parlour。　　

The　real　progress；　Remington；　is　a　graver　thing　and　a　painfuller　

thing　and　a　slower　thing　altogether。　　Look！　　THAT〃and　he　pointed　

to　where　under　a　boarding　in　the　light　of　a　gas　lamp　a　dingy　

prostitute　stood　lurking〃　was　in　Babylon　and　Nineveh。　　Your　little　

lot　make　believe　there　won't　be　anything　of　the　sort　after　this　

Parliament！　　They're　going　to　vanish　at　a　few　top　notes　from　Altiora　

Bailey！　　Remington！it's　foolery。　　It's　prigs　at　play。　　It's　make…

believe；　make…believe！　　Your　people　there　haven't　got　hold　of　

things；　aren't　beginning　to　get　hold　of　things；　don't　know　anything　

of　life　at　all；　shirk　life；　avoid　life；　get　in　little　bright　clean　

rooms　and　talk　big　over　your　bumpers　of　lemonade　while　the　Night　

goes　by　outsideuntouched。　　Those　Crampton　fools　slink　by　all　

this；〃he　waved　at　the　woman　again〃pretend　it　doesn't　exist；　or　

is　going　to　be　banished　root　and　branch　by　an　Act　to　keep　children　

in　the　wet　outside　public…houses。　　Do　you　think　they　really　care；　

Remington？　　I　don't。　　It's　make…believe。　　What　they　want　to　do；　what　

Lewis　wants　to　do；　what　Mrs。　Bunting　Harblow　wants　her　husband　to　

do；　is　to　sit　and　feel　very　grave　and　necessary　and　respected　on　the　

Government　benches。　　They　think　of　putting　their　feet　out　like　

statesmen；　and　tilting　shiny　hats　with　becoming　brims　down　over　

their　successful　noses。　　Presentation　portrait　to　a　club　at　fifty。　　

That's　their　Reality。　　That's　their　scope。　　They　don't；　it's　

manifest；　WANT　to　think　beyond　that。　　The　things　there　ARE；　

Remington；　they'll　never　face！　the　wonder　and　the　depth　of　life；

lust；　and　the　night…sky；pain。〃



〃But　the　good　intention；〃　I　pleaded；　〃the　Good　Will！〃



〃Sentimentality；〃　said　Britten。　　〃No　Good　Will　is　anything　but　

dishonesty　unless　it　frets　and　burns　and　hurts　and　destroys　a　man。　　

That　lot　of　yours　have　nothing　but　a　good　will　to　think　they　have　

good　will。　　Do　you　think　they　lie　awake　of　nights　searching　their　

hearts　as　we　do？　　Lewis？　　Crampton？　　Or　those　neat；　admiring；　

satisfied　little　wives？　　See　how　they　shrank　from　the　probe！〃



〃We　all；〃　I　said；　〃shrink　from　the　probe。〃



〃God　help　us！〃　said　Britten。　。　。　。



〃We　are　but　vermin　at　the　best；　Remington；〃　he　broke　out；〃　and　the　

greatest　saint　only　a　worm　that　has　lifted　its　head　for　a　moment　

from　the　dust。　　We　are　damned；　we　are　meant　to　be　damned；　coral　

animalculae　building　upward；　upward　in　a　sea　of　damnation。　　But　of　

all　the　damned　things　that　ever　were　damned；　your　damned　shirking；　

temperate；　sham…efficient；　self…satisfied；　respectable；　make…

believe；　Fabian…spirited　Young　Liberal　is　tbe　utterly　damnedest。〃　　

He　paused　for　a　moment；　and　resumed　in　an　entirely　different　note：　

〃Which　is　why　I　was　so　surprised；　Remington；　to　find　YOU　in　this　

set！〃



〃You're　just　the　old　plunger　you　used　to　be；　Britten；〃　I　said。　　〃　

You're　going　too　far　with　all　your　might　for　the　sake　of　the　damns。　　

Like　a　donkey　that　drags　its　cart　up　a　bank　to　get　thistles。　　

There's　depths　in　Liberalism〃



〃We　were　talking　about　Liberals。〃



〃Liberty！〃



〃Liberty！　　What　do　YOOR　little　lot　know　of　liberty？〃



〃What　does　any　little　lot　know　of　liberty？〃



〃It　waits　outside；　too　big　for　our　understanding。　　Like　the　night　

and　the　stars。　　And　lust；　Remington！　lust　and　bitterness！　　Don't　I　

know　them？　with　all　the　sweetness　and　hope　of　life　bitten　and　

trampled；　the　dear　eyes　and　the　brain　that　loved　and　understoodand　

my　poor　mumble　of　a　life　going　on！　　I'm　within　sight　of　being　a　

drunkard；　Remington！　　I'm　a　failure　by　most　standards！　　Life　has　cut　

me　to　the　bone。　　But　I'm　not　afraid　of　it　any　more。　　I've　paid　

something　of　the　price；　I've　seen　something　of　the　meaning。〃



He　flew　off　at　a　tangent。　　〃I'd　rather　die　in　Delirium　Tremens；〃　he　

cried；　〃than　be　a　Crampton　or　a　Lewis。　。　。　。〃



〃Make…believe。　　Make…believe。〃　　The　phrase　and　Britten's　squat　

gestures　haunted　me　as　I　walked　homeward　alone。　　I　went　to　my　room　

and　stood　before　my　desk　and　surveyed　papers　and　files　and　

Margaret's　admirable　equipment　of　me。



I　perceived　in　the　lurid　light　of　Britten's　suggestions　that　so　it　

was　Mr。　George　Alexander　would　have　mounted　a　statesman's　private　

room。　。　。　。







3





I　was　never　at　any　stage　a　loyal　party　man。　　I　doubt　if　party　will　

ever　again　be　the　force　it　was　during　the　eighteenth　and　nineteenth　

centuries。　　Men　are　becoming　increasingly　constructive　and　

selective；　less　patient　under　tradition　and　the　bondage　of　initial　

circumstances。　　As　education　becomes　more　universal　and　liberating；　

men　will　sort　themselves　more　and　more　by　their　intellectual　

temperaments　and　less　and　less　by　their　accidental　associations。　　

The　past　will　rule　them　less；　the　future　more。　　It　is　not　simply　

party　but　school　and　college　and　county　and　country　that　lose　their　

glamour。　　One　does　not　hear　nearly　as　much　as　our　forefathers　did　of　

the　〃old　Harrovian；〃　〃old　Arvonian；〃　〃old　Etonian〃　claim　to　this　or　

that　unfair　advantage　or　unearnt　sympathy。　　Even　the　Scotch　and　the　

Devonians　weaken　a　little　in　their　clannishness。　　A　widening　sense　

of　fair　play　destroys　such　things。　　They　follow　freemasonry　down

freemasonry　of　which　one　is　chiefly　reminded　nowadays　in　England　by　

propitiatory　symbols　outside　shady　public…houses。　。　。　。



There　is；　of　course；　a　type　of　man　which　clings　very　obstinately　to　

party　ties。　　These　are　the　men　with　strong　reproductive　imaginations　

and　no　imaginative　initiative；　such　men　as　Cladingbowl；　for　example；　

or　Dayton。　　They　are　the　scholars…at…large　in　life。　　For　them　the　

fact　that　the　party　system　has　been　essential　in　the　history　of　

England　for　two　hundred　years　gives　it　an　overwhelming　glamour。　　

They　have　read　histories　and　memoirs；　they　see　the　great　grey　pile　

of　Westminster　not　so　much　for　what　it　is　as　for　what　it　was；　rich　

with　dramatic　memories；　populous　with　glorious　ghosts；　phrasing　

itself　inevitably　in　anecdotes　and　quotations。　　It　seems　almost　

scandalous　that　new　things　should　continue　to　happen；　swamping　with　

strange　qualities　the　savour　of　these　old　associations。



That　Mr。　Ramsay　Macdonald　should　walk　through　Westminster　Hall；　

thrust　himself；　it　may　be；　through　the　very　piece　of　space　that　once　

held　Charles　the　Martyr　pleading　for　his　life；　seems　horrible　

profanation　to　Dayton；　a　last　posthumous　outrage；　and　he　would；　I　

think；　like　to　have　the　front　benches　left　empty　now　for　ever；　or　at　

most　adorned　with　laureated　ivory　tablets：　〃Here　Dizzy　sat；〃　and　〃On　

this　Spot　William　Ewart　Gladstone　made　his　First　Budget　Speech。〃　　

Failing　this；　he　demands；　if　only　as　signs　of　modesty　and　respect　on　

the　part　of　the　survivors；　meticulous　imitation。　　〃Mr。　G。；〃　he　

murmurs；　〃would　not　have　done　that；〃　and　laments　a　vanished　subtlety　

even　while　Mr。　Evesham　is　speaking。　　He　is　always　gloomily　disposed　

to　lapse　into　wonderings　about　what　things　are　coming　to；　wonderings　

that　have　no　grain　of　curiosity。　　His　conception　of　perfect　conduct　

is　industrious　persistence　along　the　worn…down；　well…marked　grooves　

of　the　great　recorded　days。　　So　infinitely　more　important　to　him　is　

the　documented；　respected　thing　than　the　elusive　present。



Cladingbowl　and　Dayton　do　not　shine　in　the　House；　though　Cladingbowl　

is　a　sound　man　on　a　committee；　and　Dayton　keeps　the　OLD　COUNTRY　

GAZETTE；　the　most　gentlemanly　paper　in　London。　　They　prevail；　

however；　in　their　clubs　at　lunch　time。　　There；　with　the　pleasant　

consciousness　of　a　morning's　work　free　from　either　zeal　or　shirking；　

they　mingle　with　permanent　officials；　prominent　lawyers；　even　a　few　

of　the　soberer　type　of　business　men；　and　relax　their　minds　in　the　

discussion　of　the　morning　paper；　of　the　architecture　of　the　West　

End；　and　of　the　latest　public　appointments；　of　golf；　of　holiday　

resorts；　of　the　last　judicial　witticisms　and　forensic　〃crushers。〃　　

The　New　Year　and　Birthday　honours　lists　are　always　very　sagely　and　

exhaustively　considered；　and　anecdotes　are　popular　and　keenly　

judged。　　They　do　not　talk　of　the　things　that　are　really　active　in　

their　minds；　but　in　the　formal　and　habitual　manner　they　suppose　to　

be　proper　to　intelligent　but　still　honourable　men。　　Socialism；　

individual　money　matters；　and　religion　are　forbidden　topics；　and　sex　

and　women　only　in　so　far　as　they　appear　in　the　law　courts。　　It　is　to　

me　the　strangest　of　conventions；　this　assumption　of　unreal　loyalties　

and　traditional　respects；　this　repudiation　and　concealment　of　

passionate　interests。　　It　is　like　wearing　gloves　in　summer　fields；　

or　bathing　in　a　gown；　or　falling　in　love　with　the　heroine　of　a　

novel；　or　writing　under　a　pseudonym；　or　becoming　a　masked　Tuareg。　。　。　。



It　is　not；　I　think；　that　men　of　my　species　are　insensitive　to　the　

great　past　that　is　embodied　in　Westminster　and　its　traditions；　we　

are　not　so　much　wanting　in　the　historical　sense　as　alive　to　the　

greatness　of　our　pre