manalive-第25节

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excommunicated　them；　and　told　them　they　were　going　to　hell；　I　should
have　rather　admired　him。　　If　he　had　ordered　them　all　to　be　burned
in　the　market…place；　I　should　still　have　had　that　patience　that　all
good　Christians　have　with　the　wrongs　inflicted　on　other　people。
But　there　is　no　priestcraft　about　Hawkinsnor　any　other　kind　of　craft。
He　is　as　perfectly　incapable　of　being　a　priest　as　he　is　of　being　a　carpenter
or　a　cabman　or　a　gardener　or　a　plasterer。　　He　is　a　perfect　gentleman；
that　is　his　complaint。　　He　does　not　impose　his　creed；　but　simply　his　class。
He　never　said　a　word　of　religion　in　the　whole　of　his　damnable　address。
He　simply　said　all　the　things　his　brother；　the　major；　would　have　said。
A　voice　from　heaven　assures　me　that　he　has　a　brother；　and　that　this
brother　is　a　major。

〃When　this　helpless　aristocrat　had　praised　cleanliness　in　the　body
and　convention　in　the　soul　to　people　who　could　hardly　keep　body
and　soul　together；　the　stampede　against　our　platform　began。
I　took　part　in　his　undeserved　rescue；　I　followed　his
obscure　deliverer；　until　（as　I　have　said）　we　stood　together
on　the　wall　above　the　dim　gardens；　already　clouding　with　fog。
Then　I　looked　at　the　curate　and　at　the　burglar；　and　decided；　in　a　spasm
of　inspiration；　that　the　burglar　was　the　better　man　of　the　two。
The　burglar　seemed　quite　as　kind　and　human　as　the　curate　was
and　he　was　also　brave　and　self…reliant；　which　the　curate　was　not。
I　knew　there　was　no　virtue　in　the　upper　class；　for　I　belong　to
it　myself；　I　knew　there　was　not　so　very　much　in　the　lower　class；
for　I　had　lived　with　it　a　long　time。　　Many　old　texts　about
the　despised　and　persecuted　came　back　to　my　mind；　and　I　thought
that　the　saints　might　well　be　hidden　in　the　criminal　class。
About　the　time　Hawkins　let　himself　down　the　ladder　I　was　crawling
up　a　low；　sloping；　blue…slate　roof　after　the　large　man；　who　went
leaping　in　front　of　me　like　a　gorilla。

〃This　upward　scramble　was　short；　and　we　soon　found
ourselves　tramping　along　a　broad　road　of　flat　roofs；
broader　than　many　big　thoroughfares；　with　chimney…pots　here
and　there　that　seemed　in　the　haze　as　bulky　as　small　forts。
The　asphyxiation　of　the　fog　seemed　to　increase　the　somewhat
swollen　and　morbid　anger　under　which　my　brain　and　body　laboured。
The　sky　and　all　those　things　that　are　commonly　clear　seemed
overpowered　by　sinister　spirits。　　Tall　spectres　with　turbans　of　vapour
seemed　to　stand　higher　than　the　sun　or　moon；　eclipsing　both。
I　thought　dimly　of　illustrations　to　the　‘Arabian　Nights'
on　brown　paper　with　rich　but　sombre　tints；　showing　genii
gathering　round　the　Seal　of　Solomon。　　By　the　way；　what　was
the　Seal　of　Solomon？　　Nothing　to　do　with　sealing…wax　really；
I　suppose；　but　my　muddled　fancy　felt　the　thick　clouds　as　being
of　that　heavy　and　clinging　substance；　of　strong　opaque　colour；
poured　out　of　boiling　pots　and　stamped　into　monstrous　emblems。

〃The　first　effect　of　the　tall　turbaned　vapours　was　that　discoloured
look　of　pea…soup　or　coffee　brown　of　which　Londoners　commonly　speak。
But　the　scene　grew　subtler　with　familiarity。　　We　stood　above　the　average
of　the　housetops　and　saw　something　of　that　thing　called　smoke；　which　in
great　cities　creates　the　strange　thing　called　fog。　　Beneath　us　rose
a　forest　of　chimney…pots。　And　there　stood　in　every　chimney…pot；　as　if　it
were　a　flower…pot；　a　brief　shrub　or　a　tall　tree　of　coloured　vapour。
The　colours　of　the　smoke　were　various；　for　some　chimneys　were　from
firesides　and　some　from　factories；　and　some　again　from　mere　rubbish　heaps。
And　yet；　though　the　tints　were　all　varied；　they　all　seemed　unnatural；
like　fumes　from　a　witch's　pot。　　It　was　as　if　the　shameful　and　ugly
shapes　growing　shapeless　in　the　cauldron　sent　up　each　its　separate
spurt　of　steam；　coloured　according　to　the　fish　or　flesh　consumed。
Here；　aglow　from　underneath；　were　dark　red　clouds；　such　as　might　drift
from　dark　jars　of　sacrificial　blood；　there　the　vapour　was　dark　indigo　gray；
like　the　long　hair　of　witches　steeped　in　the　hell…broth。　In　another
place　the　smoke　was　of　an　awful　opaque　ivory　yellow；　such　as　might
be　the　disembodiment　of　one　of　their　old；　leprous　waxen　images。
But　right　across　it　ran　a　line　of　bright；　sinister；　sulphurous　green；
as　clear　and　crooked　as　Arabic〃

Mr。　Moses　Gould　once　more　attempted　the　arrest　of　the　'bus。
He　was　understood　to　suggest　that　the　reader　should　shorten
the　proceedings　by　leaving　out　all　the　adjectives。　　Mrs。　Duke；
who　had　woken　up；　observed　that　she　was　sure　it　was　all　very　nice；
and　the　decision　was　duly　noted　down　by　Moses　with　a　blue；
and　by　Michael　with　a　red；　pencil。　　Inglewood　then　resumed
the　reading　of　the　document。


〃Then　I　read　the　writing　of　the　smoke。　　Smoke　was　like　the　modern
city　that　makes　it；　it　is　not　always　dull　or　ugly；　but　it　is　always
wicked　and　vain。

〃Modern　England　was　like　a　cloud　of　smoke；　it　could　carry
all　colours；　but　it　could　leave　nothing　but　a　stain。　　It　was　our
weakness　and　not　our　strength　that　put　a　rich　refuse　in　the　sky。
These　were　the　rivers　of　our　vanity　pouring　into　the　void。
We　had　taken　the　sacred　circle　of　the　whirlwind；　and　looked　down　on　it；
and　seen　it　as　a　whirlpool。　　And　then　we　had　used　it　as　a　sink。
It　was　a　good　symbol　of　the　mutiny　in　my　own　mind。
Only　our　worst　things　were　going　to　heaven。　　Only　our　criminals
could　still　ascend　like　angels。

〃As　my　brain　was　blinded　with　such　emotions；　my　guide　stopped
by　one　of　the　big　chimney…pots　that　stood　at　the　regular　intervals
like　lamp…posts　along　that　uplifted　and　aerial　highway。
He　put　his　heavy　hand　upon　it；　and　for　the　moment　I　thought　he　was
merely　leaning　on　it；　tired　with　his　steep　scramble　along　the　terrace。
So　far　as　I　could　guess　from　the　abysses；　full　of　fog　on　either　side；
and　the　veiled　lights　of　red　brown　and　old　gold　glowing　through
them　now　and　again；　we　were　on　the　top　of　one　of　those　long；
consecutive；　and　genteel　rows　of　houses　which　are　still　to　be
found　lifting　their　heads　above　poorer　districts；　the　remains
of　some　rage　of　optimism　in　earlier　speculative　builders。
Probably　enough；　they　were　entirely　untenanted；　or　tenanted
only　by　such　small　clans　of　the　poor　as　gather　also　in　the　old
emptied　palaces　of　Italy。　　Indeed；　some　little　time　later；
when　the　fog　had　lifted　a　little；　I　discovered　that　we
were　walking　round　a　semi…circle　of　crescent　which　fell　away
below　us　into　one　flat　square　or　wide　street　below　another；
like　a　giant　stairway；　in　a　manner　not　unknown　in　the　eccentric
building　of　London；　and　looking　like　the　last　ledges　of　the　land。
But　a　cloud　sealed　the　giant　stairway　as　yet。

〃My　speculation　about　the　sullen　skyscape；　however；　were　interrupted
by　something　as　unexpected　as　the　moon　falling　from　the　sky。
Instead　of　my　burglar　lifting　his　hand　from　the　chimney
he　leaned　on；　he　leaned　on　it　a　little　more　heavily；　and　the　whole
chimney…pot　turned　over　like　the　opening　top　of　an　inkstand。
I　remembered　the　short　ladder　leaning　against　the　low　wall　and　felt
sure　he　had　arranged　his　criminal　approach　long　before。

〃The　collapse　of　the　big　chimney…pot　ought　to　have　been　the　culmination
of　my　chaotic　feelings；　but；　to　tell　the　truth；　it　produced　a　sudden　sense
of　comedy　and　even　of　comfort。　　I　could　not　recall　what　connected　this
abrupt　bit　of　housebreaking　with　some　quaint　but　still　kindly　fancies。
Then　I　remembered　the　delightful　and　uproarious　scenes　of　roofs　and　chimneys
in　the　harlequinades　of　my　childhood；　and　was　darkly　and　quite　irrationally
comforted　by　a　sense　of　unsubstantiality　in　the　scene；　as　if　the　houses
were　of　lath　and　paint　and　pasteboard；　and　were　only　meant　to　be　tumbled
in　and　out　of　by　policemen　and　pantaloons。　　The　law…breaking　of　my　companion
seemed　not　only　seriously　excusable；　but　even　comically　excusable。
Who　were　all　these　pompous　preposterous　people　with　their　footmen　and　their
foot…scrapers；　their　chimney…pots　and　their　chimney…pot　hats；　that　they
should　prevent　a　poor　clown　from　getting　sausages　if　he　wanted　them？
One　would　suppose　that　property　was　a　serious　thing。　　I　had　reached；
as　it　were；　a　higher　level　of　that　mountainous　and　vapourous　visions；
the　heaven　of　a　higher　levity。

〃My　guide　had　jumped　down　into　the　dark　cavity　revealed　by　the　displaced
chimney…pot。　He　must　have　landed　at　a　level　considerably　lower；　for；
tall　as　he　was；　nothing　but　his　weirdly　tousled　head　remained　visible。
Something　again　far　off；　and　yet　familiar；　pleased　me　about　this　way
of　invading　the　houses　of　men。　　I　thought　of　little　chimney…sweeps；
and　‘The　Water　Babies；'　but　I　decided　that　it　was　not　that。
Then　I　remembered　what　it　was　that　made　me　connect　such　topsy…turvy
trespass　with　ideas　quite　opposite　to　the　idea　of　crime。
Christmas　Eve；　of　course；　and　Santa　Claus　coming　down　the　chimney。

〃Almost　at　the　same　instant　the　hairy　head　disappeared　into　the　black　hole；
but　I　heard　a　voice　calling　to　me　from　below。　　A　second　or　two　afterwards；
the　hairy　head　reappeared；　it　was　dark　against　the　more　fiery　part　of　the　fog；
and　nothing　could　be　spelt　of　its　expression；　but　its　voice　called　on　me
to　follow　with　that　enthusiastic　impatience　proper　only　among　old　friends。
I　jumped　into　the　gulf；　and　as　blindly　as　Curtius；　for　I　was　still　thinking
of　Santa　Cla