the new machiavelli-第47章

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

greatness　of　our　present　opportunities　and　the　still　vaster　future　

that　is　possible　to　us。　　London　is　the　most　interesting；　beautiful；　

and　wonderful　city　in　the　world　to　me；　delicate　in　her　incidental　

and　multitudinous　littleness；　and　stupendous　in　her　pregnant　

totality；　I　cannot　bring　myself　to　use　her　as　a　museum　or　an　old　

bookshop。　　When　I　think　of　Whitehall　that　little　affair　on　the　

scaffold　outside　the　Banqueting　Hall　seems　trivial　and　remote　in　

comparison　with　the　possibilities　that　offer　themselves　to　my　

imagination　within　the　great　grey　Government　buildings　close　at　

hand。



It　gives　me　a　qualm　of　nostalgia　even　to　name　those　places　now。　　I　

think　of　St。　Stephen's　tower　streaming　upwards　into　the　misty　London　

night　and　the　great　wet　quadrangle　of　New　Palace　Yard；　from　which　

the　hansom　cabs　of　my　first　experiences　were　ousted　more　and　more　by　

taxicabs　as　the　second　Parliament　of　King　Edward　the　Seventh　aged；　I　

think　of　the　Admiralty　and　War　office　with　their　tall　Marconi　masts　

sending　out　invisible　threads　of　direction　to　the　armies　in　the　

camps；　to　great　fleets　about　the　world。　　The　crowded；　darkly　shining　

river　goes　flooding　through　my　memory　once　again；　on　to　those　narrow　

seas　that　part　us　from　our　rival　nations；　I　see　quadrangles　and　

corridors　of　spacious　grey…toned　offices　in　which　undistinguished　

little　men　and　little　files　of　papers　link　us　to　islands　in　the　

tropics；　to　frozen　wildernesses　gashed　for　gold；　to　vast　temple…

studded　plains；　to　forest　worlds　and　mountain　worlds；　to　ports　and　

fortresses　and　lighthouses　and　watch…towers　and　grazing　lands　and　

corn　lands　all　about　the　globe。　　Once　more　I　traverse　Victoria　

Street；　grimy　and　dark；　where　the　Agents　of　the　Empire　jostle　one　

another；　pass　the　big　embassies　in　the　West　End　with　their　flags　and　

scutcheons；　follow　the　broad　avenue　that　leads　to　Buckingham　Palace；　

witness　the　coming　and　going　of　troops　and　officials　and　guests　

along　it　from　every　land　on　earth。　。　。　。　　Interwoven　in　the　texture　

of　it　all；　mocking；　perplexing；　stimulating　beyond　measure；　is　the　

gleaming　consciousness；　the　challenging　knowledge：　〃You　and　your　

kind　might　still；　if　you　could　but　grasp　it　here；　mould　all　the　

destiny　of　Man！〃







4





My　first　three　years　in　Parliament　were　years　of　active　discontent。　　

The　little　group　of　younger　Liberals　to　which　I　belonged　was　very　

ignorant　of　the　traditions　and　qualities　of　our　older　leaders；　and　

quite　out　of　touch　with　the　mass　of　the　party。　　For　a　time　

Parliament　was　enormously　taken　up　with　moribund　issues　and　old　

quarrels。　　The　early　Educational　legislation　was　sectarian　and　

unenterprising；　and　the　Licensing　Bill　went　little　further　than　the　

attempted　rectification　of　a　Conservative　mistake。　　I　was　altogether　

for　the　nationalisation　of　the　public…houses；　and　of　this　end　the　

Bill　gave　no　intimations。　　It　was　just　beer…baiting。　　I　was　

recalcitrant　almost　from　the　beginning；　and　spoke　against　the　

Government　so　early　as　the　second　reading　of　the　first　Education　

Bill；　the　one　the　Lords　rejected　in　1906。　　I　went　a　little　beyond　my　

intention　in　the　heat　of　speaking；it　is　a　way　with　inexperienced　

man。　　I　called　the　Bill　timid；　narrow；　a　mere　sop　to　the　jealousies　

of　sects　and　little…minded　people。　　I　contrasted　its　aim　and　methods　

with　the　manifest　needs　of　the　time。



I　am　not　a　particularly　good　speaker；　after　the　manner　of　a　writer　I　

worry　to　find　my　meaning　too　much；　but　this　was　one　of　my　successes。　　

I　spoke　after　dinner　and　to　a　fairly　full　House；　for　people　were　

already　a　little　curious　about　me　because　of　my　writings。　　Several　

of　the　Conservative　leaders　were　present　and　stayed；　and　Mr。　

Evesham；　I　remember；　came　ostentatiously　to　hear　me；　with　that　

engaging　friendliness　of　his；　and　gave　me　at　the　first　chance　an　

approving　〃Hear；　Hear！〃　　I　can　still　recall　quite　distinctly　my　two　

futile　attempts　to　catch　the　Speaker's　eye　before　I　was　able　to　

begin；　the　nervous　quiver　of　my　rather　too　prepared　opening；　the　

effect　of　hearing　my　own　voice　and　my　subconscious　wonder　as　to　what　

I　could　possibly　be　talking　about；　the　realisation　that　I　was　

getting　on　fairly　well；　the　immense　satisfaction　afterwards　of　

having　on　the　whole　brought　it　off；　and　the　absurd　gratitude　I　felt　

for　that　encouraging　cheer。



Addressing　the　House　of　Commons　is　like　no　other　public　speaking　in　

the　world。　　Its　semi…colloquial　methods　give　it　an　air　of　being　

easy；　but　its　shifting　audience；　the　comings　and　goings　and　

hesitations　of　members　behind　the　chairnot　mere　audience　units；　

but　men　who　matterthe　desolating　emptiness　that　spreads　itself　

round　the　man　who　fails　to　interest；　the　little　compact；　disciplined　

crowd　in　the　strangers'　gallery；　the　light；　elusive；　flickering　

movements　high　up　behind　the　grill；　the　wigged；　attentive；　weary　

Speaker；　the　table　and　the　mace　and　the　chapel…like　Gothic　

background　with　its　sombre　shadows；　conspire　together；　produce　a　

confused；　uncertain　feeling　in　me；　as　though　I　was　walking　upon　a　

pavement　full　of　trap…doors　and　patches　of　uncovered　morass。　　A　

misplaced；　well…meant　〃Hear；　Hear！〃　is　apt　to　be　extraordinarily　

disconcerting；　and　under　no　other　circumstances　have　I　had　to　speak　

with　quite　the　same　sideways　twist　that　the　arrangement　of　the　House　

imposes。　　One　does　not　recognise　one's　own　voice　threading　out　into　

the　stirring　brown。　　Unless　I　was　excited　or　speaking　to　the　mind　of　

some　particular　person　in　the　house；　I　was　apt　to　lose　my　feeling　of　

an　auditor。　　I　had　no　sense　of　whither　my　sentences　were　going；　such　

as　one　has　with　a　public　meeting　well　under　one's　eye。　　And　to　lose　

one's　sense　of　an　auditor　is　for　a　man　of　my　temperament　to　lose　

one's　sense　of　the　immediate；　and　to　become　prolix　and　vague　with　

qualifications。







5





My　discontents　with　the　Liberal　party　and　my　mental　exploration　of　

the　quality　of　party　generally　is　curiously　mixed　up　with　certain　

impressions　of　things　and　people　in　the　National　Liberal　Club。　　The　

National　Liberal　Club　is　Liberalism　made　visible　in　the　fleshand　

Doultonware。　　It　is　an　extraordinary　big　club　done　in　a　bold；　

wholesale；　shiny；　marbled　style；　richly　furnished　with　numerous　

paintings；　steel　engravings；　busts；　and　full…length　statues　of　the　

late　Mr。　Gladstone；　and　its　spacious　dining…rooms；　its　long；　hazy；　

crowded　smoking…room　with　innumerable　little　tables　and　groups　of　

men　in　armchairs；　its　magazine　room　and　library　upstairs；　have　just　

that　undistinguished　and　unconcentrated　diversity　which　is　for　me　

the　Liberal　note。　　The　pensive　member　sits　and　hears　perplexing　

dialects　and　even　fragments　of　foreign　speech；　and　among　the　

clustering　masses　of　less　insistent　whites　his　roving　eye　catches　

profiles　and　complexions　that　send　his　mind　afield　to　Calcutta　or　

Rangoon　or　the　West　Indies　or　Sierra　Leone　or　the　Cape。　。　。　。



I　was　not　infrequently　that　pensive　member。　　I　used　to　go　to　the　

Club　to　doubt　about　Liberalism。



About　two　o'clock　in　the　day　the　great　smoking…room　is　crowded　with　

countless　little　groups。　　They　sit　about　small　round　tables；　or　in　

circles　of　chairs；　and　the　haze　of　tobacco　seems　to　prolong　the　

great　narrow　place；　with　its　pillars　and　bays；　to　infinity。　　Some　of　

the　groups　are　big；　as　many　as　a　dozen　men　talk　in　loud　tones；　some　

are　duologues；　and　there　is　always　a　sprinkling　of　lonely；　

dissociated　men。　　At　first　one　gets　an　impression　of　men　going　from　

group　to　group　and　as　it　were　linking　them；　but　as　one　watches　

closely　one　finds　that　these　men　just　visit　three　or　four　groups　at　

the　outside；　and　know　nothing　of　the　others。　　One　begins　to　perceive　

more　and　more　distinctly　that　one　is　dealing　with　a　sort　of　human　

mosaic；　that　each　patch　in　that　great　place　is　of　a　different　

quality　and　colour　from　the　next　and　never　to　be　mixed　with　it。　　

Most　clubs　have　a　common　link；　a　lowest　common　denominator　in　the　

Club　Bore；　who　spares　no　one；　but　even　the　National　Liberal　bores　

are　specialised　and　sectional。　　As　one　looks　round　one　sees　here　a　

clump　of　men　from　the　North　Country　or　the　Potteries；　here　an　island　

of　South　London　politicians；　here　a　couple　of　young　Jews　ascendant　

from　Whitechapel；　here　a　circle　of　journalists　and　writers；　here　a　

group　of　Irish　politicians；　here　two　East　Indians；　here　a　priest　or　

so；　here　a　clump　of　old…fashioned　Protestants；　here　a　little　knot　of　

eminent　Rationalists　indulging　in　a　blasphemous　story　SOTTO　VOCE。　　

Next　them　are　a　group　of　anglicised　Germans　and　highly　specialised　

chess…players；　and　then　two　of　the　oddest…looking　personsbulging　

with　documents　and　intent　upon　extraordinary　business　transactions　

over　long　cigars。　。　。　。



I　would　listen　to　a　stormy　sea　of　babblement；　and　try　to　extract　

some　constructive　intimations。　　Every　now　and　then　I　got　a　whiff　of　

politics。　　It　was　clear　they　were　against　the　Lordsagainst　

plutocratsagainst　Cossington's　newspapersagainst　the　brewers。　。　。　。　　

It　was　tremendously　clear　what　they　were　against。　　The　trouble　

was　to　find　out　what　on　earth　they　were　for！　。　。　。



As　I　sat　and　thought；　the　streaked　and　mottled　pillars　and　wall；　the　

various　views；　aspects；　and　portraits　of　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Gladstone；　the　

partitions　of　polished　mahogany；　the　yellow…vested　waiters；　would　

dissolve　and　vanish；　and　I　would　have　a　vision　of　this　sample　of　

miscellaneous　men　of　limited；　diverse　interests　and　a　universal　

littleness　of　imagination　enlarged；　unlimited；　no　longer　a　sample　

but　a　community；　spreading；　stretching　out　to　infinityall　in　

little　groups　and　duologues　and　circles；　all　with　their　special　and　

narrow　concerns；　all　with　their　backs　to　most　of　the　others。



What　but　a　common　antagonism　would　ever　keep　these　multitudes　

together？　　I　understood　why　modern　electioneering　is　more　than　half　

of　it　denunciation。　　Let　us　condemn；　if　possible；　let　us　obstruct　

and　deprive；　but　not　let　us　do。　　There　is　no　real　appeal　to　the　

commonplace　mind　in　〃Let　us　do。〃　　That　calls　for　the　creative　

imagination；　and　few　have　been　accustomed　to　respond　to　that　call。　　

The　other　merely　needs　jealousy　and　bate；　of　which　there　are　great　

and　easily　accessible　reservoirs　in　every　human　heart。　。　。　。



I　remember　that　vision　of　endless；　narrow；　jealous　individuality　

very　vividly。　　A　seething　limitlessness　it　became　at　last；　like　a　

waste　place　covered　by　crawling　locusts　that　men　sweep　up　by　the　

sackload　and　drown　by　the　million　in　ditches。　。　。　。



Grotesquely　against　it　came　the　lean　features；　the　sidelong　shy　

movements　of　Edward　Crampton；　seated　in　a　circle　of　talkers　close　at　

hand。　　I　had　a　whiff　of　his　strained；　unmusical　voice；　and　behold！　

he　was　saying　something　about　the　〃Will　of　the　People。　。　。　。〃　



The　immense　and　wonderful　disconnecte