the new machiavelli-第6章

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burner　and　good　material　in　a　ruinous　fashion；　and　in　the　second　

they　were；　in　his　rather　careless　and　sketchy　hands；　apt　to　endanger　

the　apparatus　of　the　Institute　and　even　the　lives　of　his　students。　　

Then　thirdly；　real　experiments　involved　washing　up。　　And　moreover　

they　always　turned　out　wrong；　and　sometimes　misled　the　too　observant　

learner　very　seriously　and　opened　demoralising　controversies。　　Quite　

early　in　life　I　acquired　an　almost　ineradicable　sense　of　the　

unscientific　perversity　of　Nature　and　the　impassable　gulf　that　is　

fixed　between　systematic　science　and　elusive　fact。　　I　knew；　for　

example；　that　in　science；　whether　it　be　subject　XII。；　Organic　

Chemistry；　or　subject　XVII。；　Animal　Physiology；　when　you　blow　into　a　

glass　of　lime　water　it　instantly　becomes　cloudy；　and　if　you　continue　

to　blow　it　clears　again；　whereas　in　truth　you　may　blow　into　the　

stuff　from　the　lime…water　bottle　until　you　are　crimson　in　the　face　

and　painful　under　the　ears；　and　it　never　becomes　cloudy　at　all。　　And　

I　knew；　too；　that　in　science　if　you　put　potassium　chlorate　into　a　

retort　and　heat　it　over　a　Bunsen　burner；　oxygen　is　disengaged　and　

may　be　collected　over　water；　whereas　in　real　life　if　you　do　anything　

of　the　sort　the　vessel　cracks　with　a　loud　report；　the　potassium　

chlorate　descends　sizzling　upon　the　flame；　the　experimenter　says　

〃Oh！　Damn！〃　with　astonishing　heartiness　and　distinctness；　and　a　lady　

student　in　the　back　seats　gets　up　and　leaves　the　room。



Science　is　the　organised　conquest　of　Nature；　and　I　can　quite　

understand　that　ancient　libertine　refusing　to　cooperate　in　her　own　

undoing。　　And　I　can　quite　understand；　too；　my　father's　preference　

for　what　he　called　an　illustrative　experiment；　which　was　simply　an　

arrangement　of　the　apparatus　in　front　of　the　class　with　nothing　

whatever　by　way　of　material；　and　the　Bunsen　burner　clean　and　cool；　

and　then　a　slow　luminous　description　of　just　what　you　did　put　in　it　

when　you　were　so　ill…advised　as　to　carry　the　affair　beyond　

illustration；　and　just　exactly　what　ought　anyhow　to　happen　when　you　

did。　　He　had　considerable　powers　of　vivid　expression；　so　that　in　

this　way　he　could　make　us　see　all　he　described。　　The　class；　freed　

from　any　unpleasant　nervous　tension；　could　draw　this　still　life　

without　flinching；　and　if　any　part　was　too　difficult　to　draw；　then　

my　father　would　produce　a　simplified　version　on　the　blackboard　to　be　

copied　instead。　　And　he　would　also　write　on　the　blackboard　any　

exceptionally　difficult　but　grant…earning　words；　such　as　

〃empyreumatic〃　or　〃botryoidal。〃



Some　words　in　constant　use　he　rarely　explained。　　I　remember　once　

sticking　up　my　hand　and　asking　him　in　the　full　flow　of　description；　

〃Please；　sir；　what　is　flocculent？〃



〃The　precipitate　is。〃



〃Yes；　sir；　but　what　does　it　mean？〃



〃Oh！　flocculent！　〃　said　my　father；　〃flocculent！　　Why〃　he　extended　

his　hand　and　arm　and　twiddled　his　fingers　for　a　second　in　the　air。　　

〃Like　that；〃　he　said。



I　thought　the　explanation　sufficient；　but　he　paused　for　a　moment　

after　giving　it。　　〃As　in　a　flock　bed；　you　know；〃　he　added　and　

resumed　his　discourse。





3



My　father；　I　am　afraid；　carried　a　natural　incompetence　in　practical　

affairs　to　an　exceptionally　high　level。　　He　combined　practical　

incompetence；　practical　enterprise　and　a　thoroughly　sanguine　

temperament；　in　a　manner　that　I　have　never　seen　paralleled　in　any　

human　being。　　He　was　always　trying　to　do　new　things　in　the　briskest　

manner；　under　the　suggestion　of　books　or　papers　or　his　own　

spontaneous　imagination；　and　as　he　had　never　been　trained　to　do　

anything　whatever　in　his　life　properly；　his　futilities　were　

extensive　and　thorough。　　At　one　time　he　nearly　gave　up　his　classes　

for　intensive　culture；　so　enamoured　was　he　of　its　possibilities；　the　

peculiar　pungency　of　the　manure　he　got；　in　pursuit　of　a　chemical　

theory　of　his　own；　has　scarred　my　olfactory　memories　for　a　lifetime。　　

The　intensive　culture　phase　is　very　clear　in　my　memory；　it　came　near　

the　end　of　his　career　and　when　I　was　between　eleven　and　twelve。　　I　

was　mobilised　to　gather　caterpillars　on　several　occasions；　and　

assisted　in　nocturnal　raids　upon　the　slugs　by　lantern…light　that　

wrecked　my　preparation　work　for　school　next　day。　　My　father　dug　up　

both　lawns；　and　trenched　and　manured　in　spasms　of　immense　vigour　

alternating　with　periods　of　paralysing　distaste　for　the　garden。　　And　

for　weeks　he　talked　about　eight　hundred　pounds　an　acre　at　every　

meal。



A　garden；　even　when　it　is　not　exasperated　by　intensive　methods；　is　a　

thing　as　exacting　as　a　baby；　its　moods　have　to　he　watched；　it　does　

not　wait　upon　the　cultivator's　convenience；　but　has　times　of　its　

own。　　Intensive　culture　greatly　increases　this　disposition　to　

trouble　mankind；　it　makes　a　garden　touchy　and　hysterical；　a　drugged　

and　demoralised　and　over…irritated　garden。　　My　father　got　at　cross　

purposes　with　our　two　patches　at　an　early　stage。　　Everything　grew　

wrong　from　the　first　to　last；　and　if　my　father's　manures　intensified　

nothing　else；　they　certainly　intensified　the　Primordial　Curse。　　The　

peas　were　eaten　in　the　night　before　they　were　three　inches　high；　the　

beans　bore　nothing　but　blight；　the　only　apparent　result　of　a　

spraying　of　the　potatoes　was　to　develop　a　PENCHANT　in　the　cat　for　

being　ill　indoors；　the　cucumber　frames　were　damaged　by　the　

catapulting　of　boys　going　down　the　lane　at　the　back；　and　all　your　

cucumbers　were　mysteriously　embittered。　　That　lane　with　its　

occasional　passers…by　did　much　to　wreck　the　intensive　scheme；　

because　my　father　always　stopped　work　and　went　indoors　if　any　one　

watched　him。　　His　special　manure　was　apt　to　arouse　a　troublesome　

spirit　of　inquiry　in　hardy　natures。



In　digging　his　rows　and　shaping　his　patches　he　neglected　the　guiding　

string　and　trusted　to　his　eye　altogether　too　much；　and　the　

consequent　obliquity　and　the　various　wind…breaks　and　scare…crows　he　

erected；　and　particularly　an　irrigation　contrivance　he　began　and　

never　finished　by　which　everything　was　to　be　watered　at　once　by　

means　of　pieces　of　gutter　from　the　roof　and　outhouses　of　Number　2；　

and　a　large　and　particularly　obstinate　clump　of　elder…bushes　in　the　

abolished　hedge　that　he　had　failed　to　destroy　entirely　either　by　axe　

or　by　fire；　combined　to　give　the　gardens　under　intensive　culture　a　

singularly　desolate　and　disorderly　appearance。　　He　took　steps　

towards　the　diversion　of　our　house　drain　under　the　influence　of　the　

Sewage　Utilisation　Society；　but　happily　he　stopped　in　time。　　He　

hardly　completed　any　of　the　operations　he　began；　something　else　

became　more　urgent　or　simply　he　tired；　a　considerable　area　of　the　

Number　2　territory　was　never　even　dug　up。



In　the　end　the　affair　irritated　him　beyond　endurance。　　Never　was　a　

man　less　horticulturally…minded。　　The　clamour　of　these　vegetables　he　

had　launched　into　the　world　for　his　service　and　assistance；　wore　out　

his　patience。　　He　would　walk　into　the　garden　the　happiest　of　men　

after　a　day　or　so　of　disregard；　talking　to　me　of　history　perhaps　or　

social　organisation；　or　summarising　some　book　he　had　read。　　He　

talked　to　me　of　anything　that　interested　him；　regardless　of　my　

limitations。　　Then　he　would　begin　to　note　the　growth　of　the　weeds。　　

〃This　won't　do；〃　he　would　say　and　pull　up　a　handful。



More　weeding　would　follow　and　the　talk　would　become　fragmentary。　　

His　hands　would　become　earthy；　his　nails　black；　weeds　would　snap　off　

in　his　careless　grip；　leaving　the　roots　behind。　　The　world　would　

darken。　　He　would　look　at　his　fingers　with　disgusted　astonishment。　　

〃CURSE　these　weeds！〃　he　would　say　from　his　heart。　　His　discourse　was　

at　an　end。



I　have　memories；　too；　of　his　sudden　unexpected　charges　into　the　

tranquillity　of　the　house；　his　hands　and　clothes　intensively　

enriched。　　He　would　come　in　like　a　whirlwind。　　〃This　damned　stuff　

all　over　me　and　the　Agricultural　Chemistry　Class　at　six！　　Bah！　　

AAAAAAH！〃