the new machiavelli-第29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！



continent　of　Europe；　treated　it　as　a　mere　envious　echo　to　our　own　

world…wide　display。　　I　began　now　to　have　a　disturbing　sense　as　it　

were　of　busy　searchlights　over　the　horizon。　。　。　。



One　consequence　of　the　patriotic　chagrin　Meredith　produced　in　me　was　

an　attempt　to　belittle　his　merit。　　〃It　isn't　a　good　novel；　anyhow；〃　

I　said。



The　charge　I　brought　against　it　was；　I　remember；　a　lack　of　unity。　　

It　professed　to　be　a　study　of　the　English　situation　in　the　early　

nineties；　but　it　was　all　deflected；　I　said；　and　all　the　interest　was　

confused　by　the　story　of　Victor　Radnor's　fight　with　society　to　

vindicate　the　woman　he　had　loved　and　never　married。　　Now　in　the　

retrospect　and　with　a　mind　full　of　bitter　enlightenment；　I　can　do　

Meredith　justice；　and　admit　the　conflict　was　not　only　essential　but　

cardinal　in　his　picture；　that　the　terrible　inflexibility　of　the　rich　

aunts　and　the　still　more　terrible　claim　of　Mrs。　Burman　Radnor；　the　

〃infernal　punctilio；〃　and　Dudley　Sowerby's　limitations；　were　the　

central　substance　of　that　inalertness　the　book　set　itself　to　assail。　　

So　many　things　have　been　brought　together　in　my　mind　that　were　once　

remotely　separated。　　A　people　that　will　not　valiantly　face　and　

understand　and　admit　love　and　passion　can　understand　nothing　

whatever。　　But　in　those　days　what　is　now　just　obvious　truth　to　me　

was　altogether　outside　my　range　of　comprehension。　。　。　。







8





As　I　seek　to　recapitulate　the　interlacing　growth　of　my　apprehension　

of　the　world；　as　I　flounder　among　the　half…remembered　developments　

that　found　me　a　crude　schoolboy　and　left　me　a　man；　there　comes　out；　

as　if　it　stood　for　all　the　rest；　my　first　holiday　abroad。　　That　did　

not　happen　until　I　was　twenty…two。　　I　was　a　fellow　of　Trinity；　and　

the　Peace　of　Vereeniging　had　just　been　signed。



I　went　with　a　man　named　Willersley；　a　man　some　years　senior　to　

myself；　who　had　just　missed　a　fellowship　and　the　higher　division　of　

the　Civil　Service；　and　who　had　become　an　enthusiastic　member　of　the　

London　School　Board；　upon　which　the　cumulative　vote　and　the　support　

of　the　〃advanced〃　people　had　placed　him。　　He　had；　like　myself；　a　

small　independent　income　that　relieved　him　of　any　necessity　to　earn　

a　living；　and　he　had　a　kindred　craving　for　social　theorising　and　

some　form　of　social　service。　　He　had　sought　my　acquaintance　after　

reading　a　paper　of　mine　（begotten　by　the　visit　of　Chris　Robinson）　on　

the　limits　of　pure　democracy。　　It　had　marched　with　some　thoughts　of　

his　own。



We　went　by　train　to　Spiez　on　the　Lake　of　Thun；　then　up　the　Gemmi；　

and　thence　with　one　or　two　halts　and　digressions　and　a　little　modest　

climbing　we　crossed　over　by　the　Antrona　pass　（on　which　we　were　

benighted）　into　Italy；　and　by　way　of　Domo　D'ossola　and　the　Santa　

Maria　Maggiore　valley　to　Cannobio；　and　thence　up　the　lake　to　Locarno　

（where；　as　I　shall　tell；　we　stayed　some　eventful　days）　and　so　up　the　

Val　Maggia　and　over　to　Airolo　and　home。



As　I　write　of　that　long　tramp　of　ours；　something　of　its　freshness　

and　enlargement　returns　to　me。　　I　feel　again　the　faint　pleasant　

excitement　of　the　boat　train；　the　trampling　procession　of　people　

with　hand　baggage　and　laden　porters　along　the　platform　of　the　

Folkestone　pier；　the　scarcely　perceptible　swaying　of　the　moored　boat　

beneath　our　feet。　　Then；　very　obvious　and　simple；　the　little　emotion　

of　standing　out　from　the　homeland　and　seeing　the　long　white　Kentish　

cliffs　recede。　　One　walked　about　the　boat　doing　one's　best　not　to　

feel　absurdly　adventurous；　and　presently　a　movement　of　people　

directed　one's　attention　to　a　white　lighthouse　on　a　cliff　to　the　

east　of　us；　coming　up　suddenly；　and　then　one　turned　to　scan　the　

little　different　French　coast　villages；　and　then；　sliding　by　in　a　

pale　sunshine　came　a　long　wooden　pier　with　oddly　dressed　children　

upon　it；　and　the　clustering　town　of　Boulogne。



One　took　it　all　with　the　outward　calm　that　became　a　young　man　of　

nearly　three　and　twenty；　but　one　was　alive　to　one's　finger…tips　with　

pleasing　little　stimulations。　　The　custom　house　examination　excited　

one；　the　strangeness　of　a　babble　in　a　foreign　tongue；　one　found　the　

French　of　City　Merchants'　and　Cambridge　a　shy　and　viscous　flow；　and　

then　one　was　standing　in　the　train　as　it　went　slowly　through　the　

rail…laid　street　to　Boulogne　Ville；　and　one　looked　out　at　the　world　

in　French；　porters　in　blouses；　workmen　in　enormous　purple　trousers；　

police　officers　in　peaked　caps　instead　of　helmets　and　romantically　

cloaked；　big　carts；　all　on　two　wheels　instead　of　four；　green　

shuttered　casements　instead　of　sash　windows；　and　great　numbers　of　

neatly　dressed　women　in　economical　mourning。



〃Oh！　there's　a　priest！〃　one　said；　and　was　betrayed　into　suchlike　

artless　cries。



It　was　a　real　other　world；　with　different　government　and　different　

methods；　and　in　the　night　one　was　roused　from　uneasy　slumbers　and　

sat　blinking　and　surly；　wrapped　up　in　one's　couverture　and　with　

one's　oreiller　all　awry；　to　encounter　a　new　social　phenomenon；　the　

German　official；　so　different　in　manner　from　the　British；　and　when　

one　woke　again　after　that　one　had　come　to　Bale；　and　out　one　tumbled　

to　get　coffee　in　Switzerland。　。　。　。



I　have　been　over　that　route　dozens　of　times　since；　but　it　still　

revives　a　certain　lingering　youthfulness；　a　certain　sense　of　

cheerful　release　in　me。



I　remember　that　I　and　Willersley　became　very　sociological　as　we　ran　

on　to　Spiez；　and　made　all　sorts　of　generalisations　from　the　steeply　

sloping　fields　on　the　hillsides；　and　from　the　people　we　saw　on　

platforms　and　from　little　differences　in　the　way　things　were　done。



The　clean　prosperity　of　Bale　and　Switzerland；　the　big　clean　

stations；　filled　me　with　patriotic　misgivings；　as　I　thought　of　the　

vast　dirtiness　of　London；　the　mean　dirtiness　of　Cambridgeshire。　　It　

came　to　me　that　perhaps　my　scheme　of　international　values　was　all　

wrong；　that　quite　stupendous　possibilities　and　challenges　for　us　and　

our　empire　might　be　developing　hereand　I　recalled　Meredith's　

Skepsey　in　France　with　a　new　understanding。



Willersley　had　dressed　himself　in　a　world…worn　Norfolk　suit　of　

greenish　grey　tweeds　that　ended　unfamiliarly　at　his　rather　

impending；　spectacled；　intellectual　visage。　　I　didn't；　I　remember；　

like　the　contrast　of　him　with　the　drilled　Swiss　and　Germans　about　

us。　　Convict　coloured　stockings　and　vast　hobnail　boots　finished　him　

below；　and　all　his　luggage　was　a　borrowed　rucksac　that　he　had　tied　

askew。　　He　did　not　want　to　shave　in　the　train；　but　I　made　him　at　one　

of　the　Swiss　stationsI　dislike　these　Oxford　slovenlinessesand　

then　confound　him！　he　cut　himself　and　bled。　。　。　。



Next　morning　we　were　breathing　a　thin　exhilarating　air　that　seemed　

to　have　washed　our　very　veins　to　an　incredible　cleanliness；　and　

eating　hard…boiled　eggs　in　a　vast　clear　space　of　rime…edged　rocks；　

snow…mottled；　above　a　blue…gashed　glacier。　　All　about　us　the　

monstrous　rock　surfaces　rose　towards　the　shining　peaks　above；　and　

there　were　winding　moraines　from　which　the　ice　had　receded；　and　then　

dark　clustering　fir　trees　far　below。



I　had　an　extraordinary　feeling　of　having　come　out　of　things；　of　

being　outside。



〃But　this　is　the　round　world！〃　I　said；　with　a　sense　of　never　having　

perceived　it　before；　〃this　is　the　round　world！〃







9





That　holiday　was　full　of　big　comprehensive　effects；　the　first　view　

of　the　Rhone　valley　and　the　distant　Valaisian　Alps；　for　example；　

which　we　saw　from　the　shoulder　of　the　mountain　above　the　Gemmi；　and　

the　early　summer　dawn　breaking　over　Italy　as　we　moved　from　our　

night's　crouching　and　munched　bread　and　chocolate　and　stretched　our　

stiff　limbs　among　the　tumbled　and　precipitous　rocks　that　hung　over　

Lake　Cingolo；　and　surveyed　the　winding　tiring　rocky　track　going　down　

and　down　to　Antronapiano。



And　our　thoughts　were　as　comprehensive　as　our　impressions。　　

Willersley's　mind　abounded　in