the new machiavelli-第48章

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



The　immense　and　wonderful　disconnectednesses　of　human　life！　　I　

forgot　the　smoke　and　jabber　of　the　club　altogether；　I　became　a　

lonely　spirit　flung　aloft　by　some　queer　accident；　a　stone　upon　a　

ledge　in　some　high　and　rocky　wilderness；　and　below　as　far　as　the　eye　

could　reach　stretched　the　swarming　infinitesimals　of　humanity；　like　

grass　upon　the　field；　like　pebbles　upon　unbounded　beaches。　　Was　

there　ever　to　be　in　human　life　more　than　that　endless　struggling　

individualism？　　Was　there　indeed　some　giantry；　some　immense　valiant　

synthesis；　still　to　comeor　present　it　might　be　and　still　unseen　by　

me；　or　was　this　the　beginning　and　withal　the　last　phase　of　

mankind？　。　。　。



I　glimpsed　for　a　while　the　stupendous　impudence　of　our　ambitions；　

the　tremendous　enterprise　to　which　the　modern　statesman　is　

implicitly　addressed。　　I　was　as　it　were　one　of　a　little　swarm　of　

would…be　reef　builders　looking　back　at　the　teeming　slime　upon　the　

ocean　floor。　　All　the　history　of　mankind；　all　the　history　of　life；　

has　been　and　will　be　the　story　of　something　struggling　out　of　the　

indiscriminated　abyss；　struggling　to　exist　and　prevail　over　and　

comprehend　individual　livesan　effort　of　insidious　attraction；　an　

idea　of　invincible　appeal。　　That　something　greater　than　ourselves；　

which　does　not　so　much　exist　as　seek　existence；　palpitating　between　

being　and　not…being；　how　marvellous　it　is！　　It　has　worn　the　form　and　

visage　of　ten　thousand　different　gods；　sought　a　shape　for　itself　in　

stone　and　ivory　and　music　and　wonderful　words；　spoken　more　and　more　

clearly　of　a　mystery　of　love；　a　mystery　of　unity；　dabbling　meanwhile　

in　blood　and　cruelty　beyond　the　common　impulses　of　men。　　It　is　

something　that　comes　and　goes；　like　a　light　that　shines　and　is　

withdrawn；　withdrawn　so　completely　that　one　doubts　if　it　has　ever　

been。　。　。　。







6





I　would　mark　with　a　curious　interest　the　stray　country　member　of　the　

club　up　in　town　for　a　night　or　so。　　My　mind　would　be　busy　with　

speculations　about　him；　about　his　home；　his　family；　his　reading；　his　

horizons；　his　innumerable　fellows　who　didn't　belong　and　never　came　

up。　　I　would　fill　in　the　outline　of　him　with　memories　of　my　uncle　

and　his　Staffordshire　neighbours。　　He　was　perhaps　Alderman　This　or　

Councillor　That　down　there；　a　great　man　in　his　ward；　J。　P。　within　

seven　miles　of　the　boundary　of　the　borough；　and　a　God　in　his　home。　　

Here　he　was　nobody；　and　very　shy；　and　either　a　little　too　arrogant　

or　a　little　too　meek　towards　our　very　democratic　mannered　but　still　

livened　waiters。　　Was　he　perhaps　the　backbone　of　England？　　He　over…

ate　himself　lest　he　should　appear　mean；　went　through　our　Special　

Dinner　conscientiously；　drank；　unless　he　was　teetotal；　of　unfamiliar　

wines；　and　did　his　best；　in　spite　of　the　rules；　to　tip。　　Afterwards；　

in　a　state　of　flushed　repletion；　he　would　have　old　brandy；　black　

coffee；　and　a　banded　cigar；　or　in　the　name　of　temperance　omit　the　

brandy　and　have　rather　more　coffee；　in　the　smoking…room。　　I　would　

sit　and　watch　that　stiff　dignity　of　self…indulgence；　and　wonder；　

wonder。　。　。　。



An　infernal　clairvoyance　would　come　to　me。　　I　would　have　visions　of　

him　in　relation　to　his　wife；　checking　always；　sometimes　bullying；　

sometimes　being　ostentatiously　〃kind〃；　I　would　see　him　glance　

furtively　at　his　domestic　servants　upon　his　staircase；　or　stiffen　

his　upper　lip　against　the　reluctant；　protesting　business　employee。　　

We　imaginative　people　are　base　enough；　heaven　knows；　but　it　is　only　

in　rare　moods　of　bitter　penetration　that　we　pierce　down　to　the　baser　

lusts；　the　viler　shames；　the　everlasting　lying　and　muddle…headed　

self…justification　of　the　dull。



I　would　turn　my　eyes　down　the　crowded　room　and　see　others　of　him　and　

others。　　What　did　he　think　he　was　up　to？　　Did　he　for　a　moment　

realise　that　his　presence　under　that　ceramic　glory　of　a　ceiling　with　

me　meant；　if　it　had　any　rational　meaning　at　all；　that　we　were　

jointly　doing　something　with　the　nation　and　the　empire　and　

mankind？　。　。　。　　How　on　earth　could　any　one　get　hold　of　him；　make　

any　noble　use　of　him？　　He　didn't　read　beyond　his　newspaper。　　He　

never　thought；　but　only　followed　imaginings　in　his　heart。　　He　never　

discussed。　　At　the　first　hint　of　discussion　his　temper　gave　way。　　

He　was；　I　knew；　a　deep；　thinly…covered　tank　of　resentments　and　

quite　irrational　moral　rages。　　Yet　withal　I　would　have　to　resist　

an　impulse　to　go　over　to　him　and　nudge　him　and　say　to　him；　〃Look　

here！　　What　indeed　do　you　think　we　are　doing　with　the　nation　and　

the　empire　and　mankind？　　You　knowMANKIND！〃



I　wonder　what　reply　I　should　have　got。



So　far　as　any　average　could　be　struck　and　so　far　as　any　backbone　

could　be　located；　it　seemed　to　me　that　this　silent；　shy；　replete；　

sub…angry；　middle…class　sentimentalist　was　in　his　endless　species　

and　varieties　and　dialects　the　backbone　of　our　party。　　So　far　as　I　

could　be　considered　as　representing　anything　in　the　House；　I　

pretended　to　sit　for　the　elements　of　HIM。　。　。　。







7





For　a　time　I　turned　towards　the　Socialists。　　They　at　least　had　an　

air　of　coherent　intentions。　　At　that　time　Socialism　had　come　into　

politics　again　after　a　period　of　depression　and　obscurity；　with　a　

tremendous　ECLAT。　　There　was　visibly　a　following　of　Socialist　

members　to　Chris　Robinson；　mysteriously　uncommunicative　gentlemen　in　

soft　felt　hats　and　short　coats　and　square…toed　boots　who　replied　to　

casual　advances　a　little　surprisingly　in　rich　North　Country　

dialects。　　Members　became　aware　of　a　〃seagreen　incorruptible；〃　as　

Colonel　Marlow　put　it　to　me；　speaking　on　the　Address；　a　slender　

twisted　figure　supporting　itself　on　a　stick　and　speaking　with　a　fire　

that　was　altogether　revolutionary。　　This　was　Philip　Snowden；　the　

member　for　Blackburn。　　They　had　come　in　nearly　forty　strong　

altogether；　and　with　an　air　of　presently　meaning　to　come　in　much　

stronger。　　They　were　only　one　aspect　of　what　seemed　at　that　time　a　

big　national　movement。　　Socialist　societies；　we　gathered；　were　

springing　up　all　over　the　country；　and　every　one　was　inquiring　about　

Socialism　and　discussing　Socialism。　　It　had　taken　the　Universities　

with　particular　force；　and　any　youngster　with　the　slightest　

intellectual　pretension　was　either　actively　for　or　brilliantly　

against。　　For　a　time　our　Young　Liberal　group　was　ostentatiously　

sympathetic。　。　。　。



When　I　think　of　the　Socialists　there　comes　a　vivid　memory　of　certain　

evening　gatherings　at　our　house。　。　。　。



These　gatherings　had　been　organised　by　Margaret　as　the　outcome　of　a　

discussion　at　the　Baileys'。　　Altiora　had　been　very　emphatic　and　

uncharitable　upon　the　futility　of　the　Socialist　movement。　　It　seemed　

that　even　the　leaders　fought　shy　of　dinner…parties。



〃They　never　meet　each　other；〃　said　Altiora；　〃much　less　people　on　the　

other　side。　　How　can　they　begin　to　understand　politics　until　they　do　

that？〃



〃Most　of　them　have　totally　unpresentable　wives；〃　said　Altiora；　

〃totally！〃　and　quoted　instances；　〃and　they　WILL　bring　them。　　Or　they　

won't　come！　　Some　of　the　poor　creatures　have　scarcely　learnt　their　

table　manners。　　They　just　make　holes　in　the　talk。　。　。　。〃



I　thought　there　was　a　great　deal　of　truth　beneath　Altiora's　

outburst。　　The　presentation　of　the　Socialist　case　seemed　very　

greatly　crippled　by　the　want　of　a　common　intimacy　in　its　leaders；　

the　want　of　intimacy　didn't　at　first　appear　to　be　more　than　an　

accident；　and　our　talk　led　to　Margaret's　attempt　to　get　acquaintance　

and　easy　intercourse　afoot　among　them　and　between　them　and　the　Young　

Liberals　of　our　group。　　She　gave　a　series　of　weekly　dinners；　

planned；　I　think；　a　little　too　accurately　upon　Altiora's　model；　and　

after　each　we　had　as　catholic　a　reception　as　we　could　contrive。



Our　receptions　were　indeed；　I　should　think；　about　as　catholic　as　

receptions　could　be。　　Margaret　found　herself　with　a　weekly　houseful　

of　insoluble　problems　in　intercourse。　　One　did　one's　best；　but　one　

got　a　nightmare　feeling　as　the　evening　wore　on。



It　was　one　of　the　few　unanimities　of　these　parties　that　every　one　

should　be　a　little　odd　in　appearance；　funny　about　the　hair　or　the　

tie　or　the　shoes　or　more　generally；　and　that　bursts　of　violent　

aggression　should　alternate　with　an　attitude　entirely　defensive。　　A　

number　of　our　guests　had　an　air　of　waiting　for　a　clue　that　never　

came；　and　stood　and　sat　about　silently；　mildly　amused　but　not　a　bit　

surprised　that　we　did　not　discover　their　distinctive　Open…Sesames。　　

There　was　a　sprinkling　of　manifest　seers　and　prophetesses　in　

shapeless　garments；　far　too　many；　I　thought；　for　really　easy　social　

intercourse；　and　any　conversation　at　any　moment　was　liable　to　become　

oracular。　　One　was　in　a　state　of　tension　from　first　to　last；　the　

most　innocent　remark　seemed　capable　of　exploding　resentment；　and　

replies　came　out　at　the　most　unexpected　angles。　　We　Young　Liberals　

went　about　puzzled　but　polite　to　the　gathering　we　had　evoked。　　The　

Young　Liberals'　tradition　is　on　the　whole　wonderfully　discreet；　

superfluous　steam　is　let　out　far　away　from　home　in　the　Balkans　or　

Africa；　and　the　neat；　stiff　figures　of　the　Cramptons；　Bunting　

Harblow；　and　Lewis；　either　in　extremely　well…cut　morning　coats　

indicative　of　the　House；　or　in　what　is　sometimes　written　of　as　

〃faultless　evening　dress；〃　stood　about　on　those　evenings；　they　and　

their　very　quietly　and　simply　and　expensively　dressed　little　wives；　

like　a　datum　line　amidst　lakes　and　mountains。



I　didn't　at　first　see　the　connection　between　systematic　social　

reorganisation　and　arbitrary　novelties　in　dietary　and　costume；　just　

as　I　didn't　realise　why　the　most　comprehensive　constructive　projects　

should　appear　to　be　supported　solely　by　odd　and　exceptional　

personalities。　　On　one　of　these　evenings　a　little　group　of　rather　

jolly…looking　pretty　young　people　seated　themselves　for　no　

particular　reason　in　a　large　circle　on　the　floor　of　my　study；　and　

engaged；　so　far　as　I　could　judge；　in　the　game　of　Hunt　the　Meaning；　

the　intellectual　equivalent　of　Hunt　the　Slipper。　　It　must　have　been　

that　same　evening　I　came　upon　an　unbleached　young　gentleman　before　

the　oval　mirror　on　the　landing　engaged　in　removing　the　remains　of　an　

anchovy　sandwich　from　his　protruded　tonguevisible　ends　of　cress　

having　misled　him　into　the　belief　that　he　was　dealing　with　

doctrinally　permissible　food。　　It　was　not　unusual　to　be　given　hand…

bills　and　printed　matter　by　our　guests；　but　there　I　had　the　

advantage　over　Lewis；　who　was　too　tactful　to　refuse　the　stuff；　too　

neatly　dressed　to　pocket　it；　and　had　no　writing…desk　available　upon　

which　he　could　relieve　himself　in　a　manner　flattering　to　the　giver。　　

So　that　his　hands　got　fuller　and　fuller。　　A　relentless；　compact　

little　woman　in　what　Margaret　declared　to　be　an　extremely　expensive　

black　dress　has　also