the new machiavelli-第58节

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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　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