the new machiavelli-第67章

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little　woman　in　what　Margaret　declared　to　be　an　extremely　expensive　

black　dress　has　also　printed　herself　on　my　memory；　she　had　set　her　

heart　upon　my　contributing　to　a　weekly　periodical　in　the　lentil　

interest　with　which　she　was　associated；　and　I　spent　much　time　and　

care　in　evading　her。



Mingling　with　the　more　hygienic　types　were　a　number　of　Anti…Puritan　

Socialists；　bulging　with　bias　against　temperance；　and　breaking　out　

against　austere　methods　of　living　all　over　their　faces。　　Their　

manner　was　packed　with　heartiness。　　They　were　apt　to　choke　the　

approaches　to　the　little　buffet　Margaret　had　set　up　downstairs；　and　

there　engage　in　discussions　of　Determinismit　always　seemed　to　be　

Determinismwhich　became　heartier　and　noisier；　but　never　

acrimonious　even　in　the　small　hours。　　It　seemed　impossible　to　settle　

about　this　Determinism　of　theirsever。　　And　there　were　worldly　

Socialists　also。　　I　particularly　recall　a　large；　active；　buoyant；　

lady…killing　individual　with　an　eyeglass　borne　upon　a　broad　black　

ribbon；　who　swam　about　us　one　evening。　　He　might　have　been　a　

slightly　frayed　actor；　in　his　large　frock…coat；　his　white　waistcoat；　

and　the　sort　of　black　and　white　check　trousers　that　twinkle。　　He　had　

a　high…pitched　voice　with　aristocratic　intonations；　and　he　seemed　to　

be　in　a　perpetual　state　of　interrogation。　　〃What　are　we　all　he…a　

for？〃　he　would　ask　only　too　audibly。　　〃What　are　we　doing　he…a？　　

What's　the　connection？〃



What　WAS　the　connection？



We　made　a　special　effort　with　our　last　assembly　in　June；　1907。　　We　

tried　to　get　something　like　a　representative　collection　of　the　

parliamentary　leaders　of　Socialism；　the　various　exponents　of　

Socialist　thought　and　a　number　of　Young　Liberal　thinkers　into　one　

room。　　Dorvil　came；　and　Horatio　Bulch；　Featherstonehaugh　appeared　

for　ten　minutes　and　talked　charmingly　to　Margaret　and　then　vanished　

again；　there　was　Wilkins　the　novelist　and　Toomer　and　Dr。　Tumpany。　　

Chris　Robinson　stood　about　for　a　time　in　a　new　comforter；　and　

Magdeberg　and　Will　Pipes　and　five　or　six　Labour　members。　　And　on　our　

side　we　had　our　particular　little　group；　Bunting　Harblow；　Crampton；　

Lewis；　all　looking　as　broad…minded　and　open　to　conviction　as　they　

possibly　could；　and　even　occasionally　talking　out　from　their　bushes　

almost　boldly。　　But　the　gathering　as　a　whole　refused　either　to　

mingle　or　dispute；　and　as　an　experiment　in　intercourse　the　evening　

was　a　failure。　　Unexpected　dissociations　appeared　between　Socialists　

one　had　supposed　friendly。　　I　could　not　have　imagined　it　was　

possible　for　half　so　many　people　to　turn　their　backs　on　everybody　

else　in　such　small　rooms　as　ours。　　But　the　unsaid　things　those　backs　

expressed　broke　out；　I　remarked；　with　refreshed　virulence　in　the　

various　organs　of　the　various　sections　of　the　party　next　week。



I　talked；　I　rememher；　with　Dr。　Tumpany；　a　large　young　man　in　a　still　

larger　professional　frock…coat；　and　with　a　great　shock　of　very　fair　

hair；　who　was　candidate　for　some　North　Country　constituency。　　We　

discussed　the　political　outlook；　and；　like　so　many　Socialists　at　

that　time；　he　was　full　of　vague　threatenings　against　the　Liberal　

party。　　I　was　struck　by　a　thing　in　him　that　I　had　already　observed　

less　vividly　in　many　others　of　these　Socialist　leaders；　and　which　

gave　me　at　last　a　clue　to　the　whole　business。　　He　behaved　exactly　

like　a　man　in　possession　of　valuable　patent　rights；　who　wants　to　be　

dealt　with。　　He　had　an　air　of　having　a　corner　in　ideas。　　Then　it　

flashed　into　my　head　that　the　whole　Socialist　movement　was　an　

attempted　corner　in　ideas。　。　。　。







8





Late　that　night　I　found　myself　alone　with　Margaret　amid　the　debris　

of　the　gathering。



I　sat　before　the　fire；　hands　in　pockets；　and　Margaret；　looking　white　

and　weary；　came　and　leant　upon　the　mantel。



〃Oh；　Lord！〃　said　Margaret。



I　agreed。　　Then　I　resumed　my　meditation。



〃Ideas；〃　I　said；　〃count　for　more　than　I　thought　in　the　world。〃



Margaret　regarded　me　with　that　neutral　expression　behind　which　she　

was　accustomed　to　wait　for　clues。



〃When　you　think　of　the　height　and　depth　and　importance　and　wisdom　of　

the　Socialist　ideas；　and　see　the　men　who　are　running　them；〃　I　

explained。　。　。　。　　〃A　big　system　of　ideas　like　Socialism　grows　up　out　

of　the　obvious　common　sense　of　our　present　conditions。　　It's　as　

impersonal　as　science。　　All　these　menThey've　given　nothing　to　it。　　

They're　just　people　who　have　pegged　out　claims　upon　a　big　

intellectual　No…Man's…Landand　don't　feel　quite　sure　of　the　law。　　

There's　a　sort　of　quarrelsome　uneasiness。　。　。　。　　If　we　professed　

Socialism　do　you　think　they'd　welcome　us？　　Not　a　man　of　them！　　

They'd　feel　it　was　burglary。　。　。　。〃　



〃Yes；〃　said　Margaret；　looking　into　the　fire。　　〃That　is　just　what　I　

felt　about　them　all　the　evening。　。　。　。　　Particularly　Dr。　Tumpany。〃



〃We　mustn't　confuse　Socialism　with　the　Socialists；　I　said；　〃that's　

the　moral　of　it。　　I　suppose　if　God　were　to　find　He　had　made　a　

mistake　in　dates　or　something；　and　went　back　and　annihilated　

everybody　from　Owen　onwards　who　was　in　any　way　known　as　a　Socialist　

leader　or　teacher；　Socialism　would　be　exactly　where　it　is　and　what　

it　is　to…daya　growing　realisation　of　constructive　needs　in　every　

man's　mind；　and　a　little　corner　in　party　politics。　　So；　I　suppose；　

it　will　always　be。　。　。　。　　But　they　WERE　a　damned　lot；　Margaret！〃



I　looked　up　at　the　little　noise　she　made。　　〃TWICE！〃　she　said；　

smiling　indulgently；　〃to…day！〃　　（Even　the　smile　was　Altiora's。）



I　returned　to　my　thoughts。　　They　WERE　a　damned　human　lot。　　It　was　an　

excellent　word　in　that　connection。　。　。　。



But　the　ideas　marched　on；　the　ideas　marched　on；　just　as　though　men's　

brains　were　no　more　than　stepping…stones；　just　as　though　some　great　

brain　in　which　we　are　all　little　cells　and　corpuscles　was　thinking　

them！　。　。　。



〃I　don't　think　there　is　a　man　among　them　who　makes　me　feel　he　is　

trustworthy；〃　said　Margaret；　〃unless　it　is　Featherstonehaugh。〃



I　sat　taking　in　this　proposition。



〃They'll　never　help　us；　I　feel；〃　said　Margaret。



〃Us？〃



〃The　Liberals。〃



〃Oh；　damn　the　Liberals！〃　I　said。　　〃They'll　never　even　help　

themselves。〃



〃I　don't　think　I　could　possibly　get　on　with　any　of　those　people；〃　

said　Margaret；　after　a　pause。



She　remained　for　a　time　looking　down　at　me　and；　I　could　feel；　

perplexed　by　me；　but　I　wanted　to　go　on　with　my　thinking；　and　so　I　

did　not　look　up；　and　presently　she　stooped　to　my　forehead　and　kissed　

me　and　went　rustling　softly　to　her　room。



I　remained　in　my　study　for　a　long　time　with　my　thoughts　

crystallising　out。　。　。　。



It　was　then；　I　think；　that　I　first　apprehended　clearly　how　that　

opposition　to　which　I　have　already　alluded　of　the　immediate　life　and　

the　mental　hinterland　of　a　man；　can　be　applied　to　public　and　social　

affairs。　　The　ideas　go　onand　no　person　or　party　succeeds　in　

embodying　them。　　The　reality　of　human　progress　never　comes　to　the　

surface；　it　is　a　power　in　the　deeps；　an　undertow。　　It　goes　on　in　

silence　while　men　think；　in　studies　where　they　write　self…

forgetfully；　in　laboratories　under　the　urgency　of　an　impersonal　

curiosity；　in　the　rare　illumination　of　honest　talk；　in　moments　of　

emotional　insight；　in　thoughtful　reading；　but　not　in　everyday　

affairs。　　Everyday　affairs　and　whatever　is　made　an　everyday　affair；　

are　transactions　of　the　ostensible　self；　the　being　of　habits；　

interests；　usage。　　Temper；　vanity；　hasty　reaction　to　imitation；　

personal　feeling；　are　their　substance。　　No　man　can　abolish　his　

immediate　self　and　specialise　in　the　depths；　if　he　attempt　that；　he　

simply　turns　himself　into　something　a　little　less　than　the　common　

man。　　He　may　have　an　immense　hinterland；　but　that　does　not　absolve　

him　from　a　frontage。　　That　is　the　essential　error　of　the　specialist　

philosopher；　the　specialist　teacher；　the　specialist　publicist。　　They　

repudiate　frontage；　claim　to　be　pure　hinterland。