the new machiavelli-第104章

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were　human　hate　and　human　credulity；　their　real　aim　was　just　every　

one's　aim；　the　preservation　of　the　class　and　way　of　living　to　which　

their　lives　were　attuned。　　They　did　not　know　how　tired　I　was；　how　

exhausted　mentally　and　morally；　nor　how　cruel　their　convergent　

attack　on　me　chanced　to　be。　　But　my　temper　gave　way；　I　became　tart　

and　fierce；　perhaps　my　replies　were　a　trifle　absurd；　and　Tarvrille；　

with　that　quick　eye　and　sympathy　of　his；　came　to　the　rescue。　　Then　

for　a　time　I　sat　silent　and　drank　port　wine　while　the　others　talked。　　

The　disorder　of　the　room；　the　still　dripping　ceiling；　the　noise；　the　

displaced　ties　and　crumpled　shirts　of　my　companions；　jarred　on　my　

tormented　nerves。　。　。　。　



It　was　long　past　midnight　when　we　dispersed。　　I　remember　Tarvrille　

coming　with　me　into　the　hall；　and　then　suggesting　we　should　go　

upstairs　to　see　the　damage。　　A　manservant　carried　up　two　flickering　

candles　for　us。　　One　end　of　the　room　was　gutted；　curtains；　hangings；　

several　chairs　and　tables　were　completely　burnt；　the　panelling　was　

scorched　and　warped；　three　smashed　windows　made　the　candles　flare　

and　gutter；　and　some　scraps　of　broken　china　still　lay　on　the　puddled　

floor。



As　we　surveyed　this；　Lady　Tarvrille　appeared；　back　from　some　party；　

a　slender；　white…cloaked；　satin…footed　figure　with　amazed　blue　eyes　

beneath　her　golden　hair。　　I　remember　how　stupidly　we　laughed　at　her　

surprise。







2





I　parted　from　Panmure　at　the　corner　of　Aldington　Street；　and　went　my　

way　alone。　　But　I　did　not　go　home；　I　turned　westward　and　walked　for　

a　long　way；　and　then　struck　northward　aimlessly。　　I　was　too　

miserable　to　go　to　my　house。



I　wandered　about　that　night　like　a　man　who　has　discovered　his　Gods　

are　dead。　　I　can　look　back　now　detached　yet　sympathetic　upon　that　

wild　confusion　of　moods　and　impulses；　and　by　it　I　think　I　can　

understand；　oh！　half　the　wrongdoing　and　blundering　in　the　world。



I　do　not　feel　now　the　logical　force　of　the　process　that　must　have　

convinced　me　then　that　I　had　made　my　sacrifice　and　spent　my　strength　

in　vain。　　At　no　time　had　I　been　under　any　illusion　that　the　Tory　

party　had　higher　ideals　than　any　other　party；　yet　it　came　to　me　like　

a　thing　newly　discovered　that　the　men　I　had　to　work　with　had　for　the　

most　part　no　such　dreams；　no　sense　of　any　collective　purpose；　no　

atom　of　the　faith　I　held。　　They　were　just　as　immediately　intent　upon　

personal　ends；　just　as　limited　by　habits　of　thought；　as　the　men　in　

any　other　group　or　party。　　Perhaps　I　had　slipped　unawares　for　a　time　

into　the　delusions　of　a　party　manbut　I　do　not　think　so。



No；　it　was　the　mood　of　profound　despondency　that　had　followed　upon　

the　abrupt　cessation　of　my　familiar　intercourse　with　Isabel；　that　

gave　this　fact　that　had　always　been　present　in　my　mind　its　quality　

of　devastating　revelation。　　It　seemed　as　though　I　had　never　seen　

before　nor　suspected　the　stupendous　gap　between　the　chaotic　aims；　

the　routine；　the　conventional　acquiescences；　the　vulgarisations　of　

the　personal　life；　and　that　clearly　conscious　development　and　

service　of　a　collective　thought　and　purpose　at　which　my　efforts　

aimed。　　I　had　thought　them　but　a　little　way　apart；　and　now　I　saw　

they　were　separated　by　all　the　distance　between　earth　and　heaven。　　I　

saw　now　in　myself　and　every　one　around　me；　a　concentration　upon　

interests　close　at　hand；　an　inability　to　detach　oneself　from　the　

provocations；　tendernesses；　instinctive　hates；　dumb　lusts　and　shy　

timidities　that　touched　one　at　every　point；　and；　save　for　rare　

exalted　moments；　a　regardlessness　of　broader　aims　and　remoter　

possibilities　that　made　the　white　passion　of　statecraft　seem　as　

unearthly　and　irrelevant　to　human　life　as　the　story　an　astronomer　

will　tell；　half　proven　but　altogether　incredible；　of　habitable　

planets　and　answering　intelligences；　suns'　distances　uncounted　

across　the　deep。　　It　seemed　to　me　I　had　aspired　too　high　and　thought　

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　degr