the new machiavelli-第46章

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〃You　see；〃　he　went　on　to　explain；　〃Bailey's　wanting　in　the　

essentials。〃



〃What　essentials？〃　said　I。



〃Oh！　he'd　be　like　a　nasty　oily　efficient　little　machine　for　some　

merely　subordinate　necessity　among　all　my　delicate　stuff。　　He'd　do　

all　we　wanted　no　doubt　in　the　way　of　money　and　powersand　he'd　do　

it　wrong　and　mess　the　place　for　ever。　　Hands　all　black；　you　know。　　

He's　just　a　means。　　Just　a　very　aggressive　and　unmanageable　means。　　

This　isn't　a　plumber's　job。　。　。　。〃



I　stuck　to　my　argument。



〃I　don't　LIKE　him；〃　said　the　official　conclusively；　and　it　seemed　to　

me　at　the　time　he　was　just　blind　prejudice　speaking。　。　。　。



I　came　nearer　the　truth　of　the　matter　as　I　came　to　realise　that　our　

philosophies　differed　profoundly。　　That　isn't　a　very　curable　

difference；once　people　have　grown　up。　　Theirs　was　a　philosophy　

devoid　of　FINESSE。　　Temperamentally　the　Baileys　were　specialised；　

concentrated；　accurate；　while　I　am　urged　either　by　some　Inner　force　

or　some　entirely　assimilated　influence　in　my　training；　always　to　

round　off　and　shadow　my　outlines。　　I　hate　them　hard。　　I　would　

sacrifice　detail　to　modelling　always；　and　the　Baileys；　it　seemed　to　

me；　loved　a　world　as　flat　and　metallic　as　Sidney　Cooper's　cows。　　If　

they　had　the　universe　in　hand　I　know　they　would　take　down　all　the　

trees　and　put　up　stamped　tin　green　shades　and　sunlight　accumulators。　　

Altiora　thought　trees　hopelessly　irregular　and　sea　cliffs　a　great　

mistake。　。　。　。　　　I　got　things　clearer　as　time　went　on。　　Though　it　

was　an　Hegelian　mess　of　which　I　had　partaken　at　Codger's　table　by　

way　of　a　philosophical　training；　my　sympathies　have　always　been　

Pragmatist。　　I　belong　almost　by　nature　to　that　school　of　Pragmatism　

that；　following　the　medieval　Nominalists；　bases　itself　upon　a　denial　

of　the　reality　of　classes；　and　of　the　validity　of　general　laws。　　The　

Baileys　classified　everything。　　They　were；　in　the　scholastic　sense

which　so　oddly　contradicts　the　modern　use　of　the　word—〃Realists。〃　　

They　believed　classes　were　REAL　and　independent　of　their　

individuals。　　This　is　the　common　habit　of　all　so…called　educated　

people　who　have　no　metaphysical　aptitude　and　no　metaphysical　

training。　　It　leads　them　to　a　progressive　misunderstanding　of　the　

world。　　It　was　a　favourite　trick　of　Altiora's　to　speak　of　everybody　

as　a　〃type〃；　she　saw　men　as　samples　moving；　her　dining…room　became　a　

chamber　of　representatives。　　It　gave　a　tremendously　scientific　air　

to　many　of　their　generalisations；　using　〃scientific〃　in　its　

nineteenth…century　uncritical　Herbert　Spencer　sense；　an　air　that　

only　began　to　disappear　when　you　thought　them　over　again　in　terms　of　

actuality　and　the　people　one　knew。　。　。　。



At　the　Baileys'　one　always　seemed　to　be　getting　one's　hands　on　the　

very　strings　that　guided　the　world。　　You　heard　legislation　projected　

to　affect　this　〃type〃　and　that；　statistics　marched　by　you　with　sin　

and　shame　and　injustice　and　misery　reduced　to　quite　manageable　

percentages；　you　found　men　who　were　to　frame　or　amend　bills　in　grave　

and　intimate　exchange　with　Bailey's　omniscience；　you　heard　Altiora　

canvassing　approaching　resignations　and　possible　appointments　that　

might　make　or　mar　a　revolution　in　administrative　methods；　and　doing　

it　with　a　vigorous　directness　that　manifestly　swayed　the　decision；　

and　you　felt　you　were　in　a　sort　of　signal　box　with　levers　all　about　

you；　and　the　world　outside　there；　albeit　a　little　dark　and　

mysterious　beyond　the　window；　running　on　its　lines　in　ready　

obedience　to　these　unhesitating　lights；　true　and　steady　to　trim　

termini。



And　then　with　all　this　administrative　fizzle；　this　pseudo…scientific　

administrative　chatter；　dying　away　in　your　head；　out　you　went　into　

the　limitless　grimy　chaos　of　London　streets　and　squares；　roads　and　

avenues　lined　with　teeming　houses；　each　larger　than　the　Chambers　

Street　house　and　at　least　equally　alive；　you　saw　the　chaotic　clamour　

of　hoardings；　the　jumble　of　traffic；　the　coming　and　going　of　

mysterious　myriads；　you　heard　the　rumble　of　traffic　like　the　noise　

of　a　torrent；　a　vague　incessant　murmur　of　cries　and　voices；　wanton　

crimes　and　accidents　bawled　at　you　from　the　placards；　imperative　

unaccountable　fashions　swaggered　triumphant　in　dazzling　windows　of　

the　shops；　and　you　found　yourself　swaying　back　to　the　opposite　

conviction　that　the　huge　formless　spirit　of　the　world　it　was　that　

held　the　strings　and　danced　the　puppets　on　the　Bailey　stage。　。　。　。



Under　the　lamps　you　were　jostled　by　people　like　my　Staffordshire　

uncle　out　for　a　spree；　you　saw　shy　youths　conversing　with　

prostitutes；　you　passed　young　lovers　pairing　with　an　entire　

disregard　of　the　social　suitability　of　the　〃types〃　they　might　blend　

or　create；　you　saw　men　leaning　drunken　against　lamp…posts　whom　you　

knew　for　the　〃type〃　that　will　charge　with　fixed　bayonets　into　the　

face　of　death；　and　you　found　yourself　unable　to　imagine　little　

Bailey　achieving　either　drunkenness　or　the　careless　defiance　of　

annihilation。　　You　realised　that　quite　a　lot　of　types　were　

underrepresented　in　Chambers　Street；　that　feral　and　obscure　and　

altogether　monstrous　forces　must　be　at　work；　as　yet　altogether　

unassimilated　by　those　neat　administrative　reorganisations。







5





Altiora；　I　remember；　preluded　Margaret's　reappearance　by　announcing　

her　as　a　〃new　type。〃



I　was　accustomed　to　go　early　to　the　Baileys'　dinners　in　those　days；　

for　a　preliminary　gossip　with　Altiora　in　front　of　her　drawing…room　

fire。　　One　got　her　alone；　and　that　early　arrival　was　a　little　sign　

of　appreciation　she　valued。　　She　had　every　woman's　need　of　followers　

and　servants。



〃I'm　going　to　send　you　down　to…night；〃　she　said；　〃with　a　very　

interesting　type　indeedone　of　the　new　generation　of　serious　gals。　　

Middle…class　originand　quite　well　off。　　Rich　in　fact。　　Her　step…

father　was　a　solicitor　and　something　of　an　ENTREPRENEUR　towards　the　

end；　I　fancyin　the　Black　Country。　　There　was　a　little　brother　

died；　and　she's　lost　her　mother　quite　recently。　　Quite　on　her　own；　

so　to　speak。　　She's　never　been　out　into　society　very　much；　and　

doesn't　seem　really　very　anxious　to　go。　。　。　。　　Not　exactly　an　

intellectual　person；　you　know；　but　quiet；　and　great　force　of　

character。　　Came　up　to　London　on　her　own　and　came　to　ussomeone　had　

told　her　we　were　the　sort　of　people　to　advise　herto　ask　what　to　

do。　　I'm　sure　she'll　interest　you。〃



〃What　CAN　people　of　that　sort　do？〃　I　asked。　　〃Is　she　capable　of　

investigation？〃



Altiora　compressed　her　lips　and　shook　her　head。　　She　always　did　

shake　her　head　when　you　asked　that　of　anyone。



〃Of　course　what　she　ought　to　do；〃　said　Altiora；　with　her　silk　dress　

pulled　back　from　her　knee　before　the　fire；　and　with　a　lift　of　her　

voice　towards　a　chuckle　at　her　daring　way　of　putting　things；　〃is　to　

marry　a　member　of　Parliament　and　see　he　does　his　work。　。　。　。　　

Perhaps　she　will。　　It's　a　very　exceptional　gal　who　can　do　anything　

by　herselfquite　exceptional。　　The　more　serious　they　arewithout　

being　exceptionalthe　more　we　want　them　to　marry。〃



Her　exposition　was　truncated　by　the　entry　of　the　type　in　question。



〃Well！〃　cried　Altiora　turning；　and　with　a　high　note　of　welcome；　

〃HERE　you　are！〃



Margaret　had　gained　in　dignity　and　prettiness　by　the　lapse　of　five　

years；　and　she　was　now　very　beautifully　and　richly　and　simply　

dressed。　　Her　fair　hair　had　been　done　in　some　way　that　made　it　seem　

softer　and　more　abundant　than　it　was　in　my　memory；　and　a　gleam　of　

purple　velvet…set　diamonds　showed　amidst　its　mist　of　little　golden　

and　brown　lines。　　Her　dress　was　of　white　and　violet；　the　last　trace　

of　mourning　for　her　mother；　and　confessed　the　gracious　droop　of　her　

tall　and　slender　body。　　She　did　not　suggest　Staffordshire　at　all；　

and　I　was　puzzled　for　a　moment　to　think　where　I　had　met　her。　　Her　

sweetly　shaped　mouth　with　the　slight　obliquity　of　the　lip　and　the　

little　kink　in　her　brow　were　extraordi