the new machiavelli-第93节

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too　far；　had　mocked　my　own　littleness　by　presumption；　had　given　the　

uttermost　dear　reality　of　life　for　a　theoriser's　dream。



All　through　that　wandering　agony　of　mine　that　night　a　dozen　threads　

of　thought　interwove；　now　I　was　a　soul　speaking　in　protest　to　God　

against　a　task　too　cold　and　high　for　it；　and　now　I　was　an　angry　man；　

scorned　and　pointed　upon；　who　had　let　life　cheat　him　of　the　ultimate　

pride　of　his　soul。　　Now　I　was　the　fool　of　ambition；　who　opened　his　

box　of　gold　to　find　blank　emptiness；　and　now　I　was　a　spinner　of　

flimsy　thoughts；　whose　web　tore　to　rags　at　a　touch。　　I　realised　for　

the　first　time　how　much　I　had　come　to　depend　upon　the　mind　and　faith　

of　Isabel；　how　she　had　confirmed　me　and　sustained　me；　how　little　

strength　I　had　to　go　on　with　our　purposes　now　that　she　had　vanished　

from　my　life。　　She　had　been　the　incarnation　of　those　great　

abstractions；　the　saving　reality；　the　voice　that　answered　back。　　

There　was　no　support　that　night　in　the　things　that　had　been。　　We　

were　alone　together　on　the　cliff　for　ever　more！that　was　very　

pretty　in　its　way；　but　it　had　no　truth　whatever　that　could　help　me　

now；　no　ounce　of　sustaining　value。　　I　wanted　Isabel　that　night；　no　

sentiment　or　memory　of　her；　but　Isabel　alive；to　talk　to　me；　to　

touch　me；　to　hold　me　together。　　I　wanted　unendurably　the　dusky　

gentleness　of　her　presence；　the　consolation　of　her　voice。



We　were　alone　together　on　the　cliff！　　I　startled　a　passing　cabman　

into　interest　by　laughing　aloud　at　that　magnificent　and　

characteristic　sentimentality。　　What　a　lie　it　was；　and　how　

satisfying　it　had　been！　　That　was　just　where　we　shouldn't　remain。　　

We　of　all　people　had　no　distinction　from　that　humanity　whose　lot　is　

to　forget。　　We　should　go　out　to　other　interests；　new　experiences；　

new　demands。　　That　tall　and　intricate　fabric　of　ambitious　

understandings　we　had　built　up　together　in　our　intimacy　would　be　the　

first　to　go；　and　last　perhaps　to　endure　with　us　would　be　a　few　gross　

memories　of　sights　and　sounds；　and　trivial　incidental　excitements。　。　。　。



I　had　a　curious　feeling　that　night　that　I　had　lost　touch　with　life　

for　a　long　time；　and　had　now　been　reminded　of　its　quality。　　That　

infernal　little　don's　parody　of　my　ruling　phrase；　〃Hate　and　coarse　

thinking；〃　stuck　in　my　thoughts　like　a　poisoned　dart；　a　centre　of　

inflammation。　　Just　as　a　man　who　is　debilitated　has　no　longer　the　

vitality　to　resist　an　infection；　so　my　mind；　slackened　by　the　crisis　

of　my　separation　from　Isabel；　could　find　no　resistance　to　his　

emphatic　suggestion。　　It　seemed　to　me　that　what　he　had　said　was　

overpoweringly　true；　not　only　of　contemporary　life；　but　of　all　

possible　human　life。　　Love　is　the　rare　thing；　the　treasured　thing；　

you　lock　it　away　jealously　and　watch；　and　well　you　may；　hate　and　

aggression　and　force　keep　the　streets　and　rule　the　world。　　And　fine　

thinking　is；　in　the　rough　issues　of　life；　weak　thinking；　is　a　

balancing　indecisive　process；　discovers　with　disloyal　impartiality　a　

justice　and　a　defect　on　each　disputing　side。　　〃Good　honest　men；〃　as　

Dayton　calls　them；　rule　the　world；　with　a　way　of　thinking　out　

decisions　like　shooting　cartloads　of　bricks；　and　with　a　steadfast　

pleasure　in　hostility。　　Dayton　liked　to　call　his　antagonists　

〃blaggards　and　scoundrels〃it　justified　his　oppositionthe　Lords　

were　〃scoundrels；〃　all　people　richer　than　be　were　〃scoundrels；〃　all　

Socialists；　all　troublesome　poor　people；　he　liked　to　think　of　jails　

and　justice　being　done。　　His　public　spirit　was　saturated　with　the　

sombre　joys　of　conflict　and　the　pleasant　thought　of　condign　

punishment　for　all　recalcitrant　souls。　　That　was　the　way　of　it；　I　

perceived。　　That　had　survival　value；　as　the　biologists　say。　　He　was　

fool　enough　in　politics　to　be　a　consistent　and　happy　politician。　。　。　。



Hate　and　coarse　thinking；　how　the　infernal　truth　of　the　phrase　beat　

me　down　that　night！　　I　couldn't　remember　that　I　had　known　this　all　

along；　and　that　it　did　not　really　matter　in　the　slightest　degree。　　I　

had　worked　it　all　out　long　ago　in　other　terms；　when　I　had　seen　how　

all　parties　stood　for　interests　inevitably；　and　how　the　purpose　in　

life　achieves　itself；　if　it　achieves　itself　at　all；　as　a　bye　product　

of　the　war　of　individuals　and　classes。　　Hadn't　I　always　known　that　

science　and　philosophy　elaborate　themselves　in　spite　of　all　the　

passion　and　narrowness　of　men；　in　spite　of　the　vanities　and　weakness　

of　their　servants；　in　spite　of　all　the　heated　disorder　of　

contemporary　things？　　Wasn't　it　my　own　phrase　to　speak　of　〃that　

greater　mind　in　men；　in　which　we　are　but　moments　and　transitorily　

lit　cells？〃　　Hadn't　I　known　that　the　spirit　of　man　still　speaks　like　

a　thing　that　struggles　out　of　mud　and　slime；　and　that　the　mere　

effort　to　speak　means　choking　and　disaster？　　Hadn't　I　known　that　we　

who　think　without　fear　and　speak　without　discretion　will　not　come　to　

our　own　for　the　next　two　thousand　years？



It　was　the　last　was　most　forgotten　of　all　that　faith　mislaid。　　

Before　mankind；　in　my　vision　that　night；　stretched　new　centuries　of　

confusion；　vast　stupid　wars；　hastily　conceived　laws；　foolish　

temporary　triumphs　of　order；　lapses；　set…backs；　despairs；　

catastrophes；　new　beginnings；　a　multitudinous　wilderness　of　time；　a　

nigh　plotless　drama　of　wrong…headed　energies。　　In　order　to　assuage　

my　parting　from　Isabel　we　had　set　ourselves　to　imagine　great　rewards　

for　our　separation；　great　personal　rewards；　we　had　promised　

ourselves　success　visible　and　shining　in　our　lives。　　To　console　

ourselves　in　our　separation　we　had　made　out　of　the　BLUE　WEEKLY　and　

our　young　Tory　movement　preposterously　enormous　things…as　though　

those　poor　fertilising　touches　at　the　soil　were　indeed　the　

germinating　seeds　of　the　millennium；　as　though　a　million　lives　such　

as　ours　had　not　to　contribute　before　the　beginning　of　the　beginning。　　

That　poor　pretence　had　failed。　　That　magnificent　proposition　

shrivelled　to　nothing　in　the　black　loneliness　of　that　night。



I　saw　that　there　were　to　be　no　such　compensations。　　So　far　as　my　

real　services　to　mankind　were　concerned　I　had　to　live　an　

unrecognised　and　unrewarded　life。　　If　I　made　successes　it　would　be　

by　the　way。　　Our　separation　would　alter　nothing　of　that。　　My　scandal　

would　cling　to　me　now　for　all　my　life；　a　thing　affecting　

relationships；　embarrassing　and　hampering　my　spirit。　　I　should　

follow　the　common　lot　of　those　who　live　by　the　imagination；　and　

follow　it　now　in　infinite　loneliness　of　soul；　the　one　good　

comforter；　the　one　effectual　familiar；　was　lost　to　me　for　ever；　I　

should　do　good　and　evil　together；　no　one　caring　to　understand；　I　

should　produce　much　weary　work；　much　bad…spirited　work；　much　

absolute　evil；　the　good　in　me　would　be　too　often　ill…expressed　and　

missed　or　misinterpreted。　　In　the　end　I　might　leave　one　gleaming　

flake　or　so　amidst　the　slag　heaps　for　a　moment　of　postmortem　

sympathy。　　I　was　afraid　beyond　measure　of　my　derelict　self。　　Because　

I　believed　with　all　my　soul　in　love　and　fine　thinking　that　did　not　

mean　that　I　should　necessarily　either　love　steadfastly　or　think　

finely。　　I　remember　how　I　fell　talking　to　GodI　think　I　talked　out　

loud。　　〃Why　do　I　care　for　these　things？〃　I　cried；　〃when　I　can　do　so　

little！　　Why　am　I　apart　from　the　jolly　thoughtless　fighting　life　of　

men？　　These　dreams　fade　to　nothingness；　and　leave　me　bare！〃



I　scolded。　　〃Why　don't　you　speak　to　a　man；　show　yourself？　　I　thought　

I　had　a　gleam　of　you　in　Isabel；and　then　you　take　her　away。　　Do　you　

really　think　I　can　carry　on　this　game　alone；　doing　your　work　in　

darkness　and　silence；　living　in　muddled　conflict；　half　living；　half　

dying？〃



Grotesque　analogies　arose　in　my　mind。　　I　discovered　a　strange　

parallelism　between　my　now　tattered　phrase　of　〃Love　and　fine　

thinking〃　and　the　〃Love　and　the　Word〃　of　Christian　thought。　　Was　it　

possible　the　Christian　propaganda　had　at　the　outset　meant　just　that　

system　of　attitudes　I　had　been　feeling　my　way　towards　from　the　very　

beginning　of　my　life？　　Had　I　spent　a　lifetime　making　my　way　back　to　

Christ？　　It　mocks　humanity　to　think　how　Christ　has　been　overlaid。　　I　

went　along　now；　recalling　long…neglected　phrases　and　sentences；　I　

had　a　new　vision　of　that　great　central　figure　preaching　love　with　

hate　and　coarse　thinking　even　in　the　disciples　about　Him；　rising　to　

a　tidal　wave　at　last　in　that　clamour　for　Barabbas；　and　the　public　

satisfaction　in　His　fate。　。　。　。



It's　curious　to　think　that　hopeless　love　and　a　noisy　disordered　

dinner　should　lead　a　man　to　these　speculations；　but　they　did。　　〃He　

DID　mean　that！〃　I　said；　and　suddenly　thought　of　what　a　bludgeon　

they'd　made　of　His　Christianity。　　Athwart　that　perplexing；　patient　

enigma　sitting　inaudibly　among　publicans　and　sinners；　danced　and　

gibbered　a　long　procession　of　the　champions　of　orthodoxy。　　〃He　

wasn't　human；〃　I　said；　and　remembered　that　last　despairing　cry；　〃My　

God！　　My　God！　why　hast　Thou　forsaken　Me？〃