the new machiavelli-第7章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



in　these　affairs　to　advertise；　used　the　epithet　〃Bromstedian〃　as　one　

expressing　peculiar　virtues；　and　so　maintained　in　the　general　mind　a　

weak　tradition　of　some　local　quality　that　embraced　us　all。　　Then　the　

parish　graveyard　filled　up　and　became　a　scandal；　and　an　ambitious　

area　with　an　air　of　appetite　was　walled　in　by　a　Bromstead　Cemetery　

Company；　and　planted　with　suitably　high…minded　and　sorrowful　

varieties　of　conifer。　　A　stonemason　took　one　of　the　earlier　villas　

with　a　front　garden　at　the　end　of　the　High　Street；　and　displayed　a　

supply　of　urns　on　pillars　and　headstones　and　crosses　in　stone；　

marble；　and　granite；　that　would　have　sufficed　to　commemorate　in　

elaborate　detail　the　entire　population　of　Bromstead　as　one　found　it　

in　1750。



The　cemetery　was　made　when　I　was　a　little　boy　of　five　or　six；　I　was　

in　the　full　tide　of　building　and　growth　from　the　first；　the　second　

railway　with　its　station　at　Bromstead　North　and　the　drainage　

followed　when　I　was　ten　or　eleven；　and　all　my　childish　memories　are　

of　digging　and　wheeling；　of　woods　invaded　by　building；　roads　gashed　

open　and　littered　with　iron　pipes　amidst　a　fearful　smell　of　gas；　of　

men　peeped　at　and　seen　toiling　away　deep　down　in　excavations；　of　

hedges　broken　down　and　replaced　by　planks；　of　wheelbarrows　and　

builders'　sheds；　of　rivulets　overtaken　and　swallowed　up　by　drain…

pipes。　　Big　trees；　and　especially　elms；　cleared　of　undergrowth　and　

left　standing　amid　such　things；　acquired　a　peculiar　tattered　

dinginess　rather　in　the　quality　of　needy　widow　women　who　have　seen　

happier　days。



The　Ravensbrook　of　my　earlier　memories　was　a　beautiful　stream。　　It　

came　into　my　world　out　of　a　mysterious　Beyond；　out　of　a　garden；　

splashing　brightly　down　a　weir　which　had　once　been　the　weir　of　a　

mill。　　（Above　the　weir　and　inaccessible　there　were　bulrushes　growing　

in　splendid　clumps；　and　beyond　that；　pampas　grass；　yellow　and　

crimson　spikes　of　hollyhock；　and　blue　suggestions　of　wonderland。）　　

From　the　pool　at　the　foot　of　this　initial　cascade　it　flowed　in　a　

leisurely　fashion　beside　a　footpath；there　were　two　pretty　thatchcd　

cottages　on　the　left；　and　here　were　ducks；　and　there　were　willows　on　

the　right；and　so　came　to　where　great　trees　grew　on　high　banks　on　

either　hand　and　bowed　closer；　and　at　last　met　overhead。　　This　part　

was　difficult　to　reach　because　of　an　old　fence；　but　a　little　boy　

might　glimpse　that　long　cavern　of　greenery　by　wading。　　Either　I　have　

actually　seen　kingfishers　there；　or　my　father　has　described　them　so　

accurately　to　me　that　he　inserted　them　into　my　memory。　　I　remember　

them　there　anyhow。　　Most　of　that　overhung　part　I　never　penetrated　at　

all；　but　followed　the　field　path　with　my　mother　and　met　the　stream　

again；　where　beyond　there　were　flat　meadows；　Roper's　meadows。　　The　

Ravensbrook　went　meandering　across　the　middle　of　these；　now　between　

steep　banks；　and　now　with　wide　shallows　at　the　bends　where　the　

cattle　waded　and　drank。　　Yellow　and　purple　loose…strife　and　ordinary　

rushes　grew　in　clumps　along　the　bank；　and　now　and　then　a　willow。　　On　

rare　occasions　of　rapture　one　might　see　a　rat　cleaning　his　whiskers　

at　the　water's　edge。　　The　deep　places　were　rich　with　tangled　weeds；　

and　in　them　fishes　lurkedto　me　they　were　big　fisheswater…boatmen　

and　water…beetles　traversed　the　calm　surface　of　these　still　deeps；　

in　one　pool　were　yellow　lilies　and　water…soldiers；　and　in　the　shoaly　

places　hovering　fleets　of　small　fry　basked　in　the　sunshineto　

vanish　in　a　flash　at　one's　shadow。　　In　one　place；　too；　were　Rapids；　

where　the　stream　woke　with　a　start　from　a　dreamless　brooding　into　

foaming　panic　and　babbled　and　hastened。　　Well　do　I　remember　that　

half…mile　of　rivulet；　all　other　rivers　and　cascades　have　their　

reference　to　it　for　me。　　And　after　I　was　eleven；　and　before　we　left　

Bromstead；　all　the　delight　and　beauty　of　it　was　destroyed。



The　volume　of　its　water　decreased　abruptlyI　suppose　the　new　

drainage　works　that　linked　us　up　with　Beckington；　and　made　me　first　

acquainted　with　the　geological　quality　of　the　London　clay；　had　to　do　

with　thatuntil　only　a　weak　uncleansing　trickle　remained。　　That　at　

first　did　not　strike　me　as　a　misfortune。　　An　adventurous　small　boy　

might　walk　dryshod　in　places　hitherto　inaccessible。　　But　hard　upon　

that　came　the　pegs；　the　planks　and　carts　and　devastation。　　Roper's　

meadows；　being　no　longer　in　fear　of　floods；　were　now　to　be　slashed　

out　into　parallelograms　of　untidy　road；　and　built　upon　with　rows　of　

working…class　cottages。　　The　roads　came；horribly；　the　houses　

followed。　　They　seemed　to　rise　in　the　night。　　People　moved　into　them　

as　soon　as　the　roofs　were　on；　mostly　workmen　and　their　young　wives；　

and　already　in　a　year　some　of　these　raw　houses　stood　empty　again　

from　defaulting　tenants；　with　windows　broken　and　wood…work　warping　

and　rotting。　　The　Ravensbrook　became　a　dump　for　old　iron；　rusty　

cans；　abandoned　boots　and　the　like；　and　was　a　river　only　when　

unusual　rains　filled　it　for　a　day　or　so　with　an　inky　flood　of　

surface　water。　。　。　。



That　indeed　was　my　most　striking　perception　in　the　growth　of　

Bromstead。　　The　Ravensbrook　had　been　important　to　my　imaginative　

life；　that　way　had　always　been　my　first　choice　in　all　my　walks　with　

my　mother；　and　its　rapid　swamping　by　the　new　urban　growth　made　it　

indicative　of　all　the　other　things　that　had　happened　just　before　my　

time；　or　were　still；　at　a　less　dramatic　pace；　happening。　　I　realised　

that　building　was　the　enemy。　　I　began　to　understand　why　in　every　

direction　out　of　Bromstead　one　walked　past　scaffold…poles　into　

litter；　why　fragments　of　broken　brick　and　cinder　mingled　in　every　

path；　and　the　significance　of　the　universal　notice…boards；　either　

white　and　new　or　a　year　old　and　torn　and　battered；　promising　sites；　

proffering　houses　to　be　sold　or　let；　abusing　and　intimidating　

passers…by　for　fancied　trespass；　and　protecting　rights　of　way。



It　is　difficult　to　disentangle　now　what　I　understood　at　this　time　

and　what　I　have　since　come　to　understand；　but　it　seems　to　me　that　

even　in　those　childish　days　I　was　acutely　aware　of　an　invading　and　

growing　disorder。　　The　serene　rhythms　of　the　old　established　

agriculture；　I　see　now；　were　everywhere　being　replaced　by　

cultivation　under　notice　and　snatch　crops；　hedges　ceased　to　be　

repaired；　and　were　replaced　by　cheap　iron　railings　or　chunks　of　

corrugated　iron；　more　and　more　hoardings　sprang　up；　and　contributed　

more　and　more　to　the　nomad　tribes　of　filthy　paper　scraps　that　flew　

before　the　wind　and　overspread　the　country。　　The　outskirts　of　

Bromstead　were　a　maze　of　exploitation　roads　that　led　nowhere；　that　

ended　in　tarred　fences　studded　with　nails　（I　don't　remember　barbed　

wire　in　those　days；　I　think　the　Zeitgeist　did　not　produce　that　until　

later）；　and　in　trespass　boards　that　used　vehement　language。　　Broken　

glass；　tin　cans；　and　ashes　and　paper　abounded。　　Cheap　glass；　cheap　

tin；　abundant　fuel；　and　a　free　untaxed　Press　had　rushed　upon　a　world　

quite　unprepared　to　dispose　of　these　blessings　when　the　fulness　of　

enjoyment　was　past。



I　suppose　one　might　have　persuaded　oneself　that　all　this　was　but　the　

replacement　of　an　ancient　tranquillity；　or　at　least　an　ancient　

balance；　by　a　new　order。　　Only　to　my　eyes；　quickened　by　my　father's　

intimations；　it　was　manifestly　no　order　at　all。　　It　was　a　multitude　

of　incoordinated　fresh　starts；　each　more　sweeping　and　destructive　

than　the　last；　and　none　of　them　ever　really　worked　out　to　a　ripe　and　

satisfactory　completion。　　Each　left　a　legacy　of　products；　houses；　

humanity；　or　what　not；　in　its　wake。　　It　was　a　sort　of　progress　that　

had　bolted；　it　was　change　out　of　hand；　and　going　at　an　unprecedented　

pace　nowhere　in　particular。



No；　the　Victorian　epoch　was　not　the　dawn　of　a　new　era；　it　was　a　

hasty；　trial　experiment；　a　gigantic　experiment　of　the　most　slovenly　

and　wasteful　kind。　　I　suppose　it　was　necessary；　I　suppose　all　things　

are　necessary。　　I　suppose　that　before　men　will　discipline　themselves　

to　learn　and　plan；　they　must　first　see　in　a　hundred　convincing　forms　

the　folly　and　muddle　that　come　from　headlong；　aimless　and　haphazard　

methods。　　The　nineteenth　century　was　an　age　of　demonstrations；　some　

of　them　very　impressive　demonstrations；　of　the　powers　that　have　come　

to　mankind；　but　of　permanent　achievement；　what　will　our　descendants　

cherish？　　It　is　hard　to　estimate　what　grains　of　precious　metal　may　

not　be　found　in　a　mud　torrent　of　human　production　on　so　large　a　

scale；　but　will　any　one；　a　hundred　years　from　now；　consent　to　live　

in　the　houses　the　Victorians　built；　travel　by　their　roads　or　

railways；　value　the　furnishings　they　made　to　live　among　or　esteem；　

except　for　curious　or　historical　reasons；　their　prevalent　art　and　

the　clipped　and　limited　literature　that　satisfied　their　souls？



That　age　which　bore　me　was　indeed　a　world　full　of　restricted　and　

undisciplined　people；　overtaken　by　power；　by　possessions　and　great　

new　freedoms；　and　unable　to　make　any　civilised　use　of　them　whatever；　

stricken　now　by　this　idea　and　now　by　that；　tempted　first　by　one　

possession　and　then　another　to　ill…considered　attempts；　it　was　my　

father's　exploitahon　of　his　villa　gardens　on　the　wholesale　level。　　

The　whole　of　Bromstead　as　I　remember　it；　and　as　I　saw　it　lastit　is　

a　year　ago　nowis　a　dull　useless　boiling…up　of　human　activities；　an　

immense　clustering　of　futilities。　　It　is　as　unfinished　as　ever；　the　

builders'　roads　still　run　out　and　end　in　mid…field　in　their　old　

fashion；　the　various　enterprises　jumble　in　the　same　hopeless　

contradiction；　if　anything　intensified。　　Pretentious　villas　jostle　

slums；　and　public…house　and　tin　tabernacle　glower　at　one　another　

across　the　cat…haunted　lot　that　intervenes。　　Roper's　meadows　are　now　

quite　frankly　a　slum；　back　doors　and　sculleries　gape　towards　the　

railway；　their　yards　are　hung　with　tattered　washing　unashamed；　and　

there　seem　to　be　more　boards　by　the　railway　every　time　I　pass；　

advertising　pills　and　pickles；　tonics　and　condiments；　and　suchlike　

solicitudes　of　a　people　with　no　natural　health　nor　appetite　left　in　

them。　。　。　。



Well；　we　have　to　do　better。　　Failure　is　not　failure　nor　waste　wasted　

if　it　sweeps　away　illusion　and　lights　the　road　to　a　plan。





6



Chaotic　indiscipline；　ill…adjusted　effort；　spasmodic　aims；　these　

give　the　quality　of　all　my　Bromstead　memories。　　The　crowning　one　of　

them　all　rises　to　desolating　tragedy。　　I　remember　now　the　wan　spring　

sunshine　of　that　Sunday　morning；　the　stiff　feeling　of　best　clothes　

and　aggressive　cleanliness　and　formality；　when　I　and　my　mother　

returned　from　church　to　find　my　father　dead。　　He　had　been　pruning　

the　grape　vine。　　He　had　never　had　a　ladder　long　enough　to　reach　the　

sill　of　the　third…floor　windowsat　house…painting　times　he　had　

borrowed　one　from　the　plumber　who　mixed　his　paintand　he　had　in　his　

own　happy…go…lucky　way　contrived　a　combination　o