the research magnificent-第21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！


n；　I　mean　of　the　man　that　is　common　to　all　of　us；　the　man　who　is　the　Standard　for　such　men　as　Carnac；　the　man　who　seems　to　be　the　ideal　of　the　Catholic　Democrat？　He　is　the　creature　of　a　few　fundamental　impulses。　　He　begins　in　blind　imitation　of　the　life　about　him。　　He　lusts　and　takes　a　wife；　he　hungers　and　tills　a　field　or　toils　in　some　other　way　to　earn　a　living；　a　mere　aimless　living；　he　fears　and　so　he　does　not　wander；　he　is　jealous　and　stays　by　his　wife　and　his　job；　is　fiercely　yet　often　stupidly　and　injuriously　defensive　of　his　children　and　his　possessions；　and　so　until　he　wearies。　　Then　he　dies　and　needs　a　cemetery。　　He　needs　a　cemetery　because　he　is　so　afraid　of　dissolution　that　even　when　he　has　ceased　to　be；　he　still　wants　a　place　and　a　grave　to　hold　him　together　and　prevent　his　returning　to　the　All　that　made　him。　　Our　chief　impression　of　long　ages　of　mankind　comes　from　its　cemeteries。　　And　this　is　the　life　of　man；　as　the　common　man　conceives　and　lives　it。　　Beyond　that　he　does　not　go；　he　never　comprehends　himself　collectively　at　all；　the　state　happens　about　him；　his　passion　for　security；　his　gregarious　self…　defensiveness；　makes　him　accumulate　upon　himself　until　he　congests　in　cities　that　have　no　sense　of　citizenship　and　states　that　have　no　structure；　the　clumsy；　inconsecutive　lying　and　chatter　of　his　newspapers；　his　hoardings　and　music…halls　gives　the　measure　of　his　congested　intelligences；　the　confusion　of　ugly；　half　empty　churches　and　chapels　and　meeting…halls　gauge　the　intensity　of　his　congested　souls；　the　tricks　and　slow　blundering　dishonesties　of　Diet　and　Congress　and　Parliament　are　his　statecraft　and　his　wisdom。　。　。　。　〃I　do　not　care　if　this　instant　I　am　stricken　dead　for　pride。　　I　say　here　now　to　you　and　to　High　Heaven　that　THIS　LIFE　IS　NOT　GOOD　ENOUGH　FOR　ME。　　I　know　there　is　a　better　life　than　this　muddle　about　us；　a　better　life　possible　now。　　I　know　it。　　A　better　individual　life　and　a　better　public　life。　　If　I　had　no　other　assurances；　if　I　were　blind　to　the　glorious　intimations　of　art；　to　the　perpetually　widening　promise　of　science；　to　the　mysterious　beckonings　of　beauty　in　form　and　colour　and　the　inaccessible　mockery　of　the　stars；　I　should　still　know　this　from　the　insurgent　spirit　within　me。　。　。　。　〃Now　this　better　life　is　what　I　mean　when　I　talk　of　Aristocracy。　This　idea　of　a　life　breaking　away　from　the　common　life　to　something　better；　is　the　consuming　idea　in　my　mind。　〃Constantly；　recurrently；　struggling　out　of　the　life　of　the　farm　and　the　shop；　the　inn　and　the　market；　the　street　and　the　crowd；　is　something　that　is　not　of　the　common　life。　　Its　way　of　thinking　is　Science；　its　dreaming　is　Art；　its　will　is　the　purpose　of　mankind。　It　is　not　the　common　thing。　　But　also　it　is　not　an　unnatural　thing。　It　is　not　as　common　as　a　rat；　but　it　is　no　less　natural　than　a　panther。　〃For　it　is　as　natural　to　be　an　explorer　as　it　is　to　be　a　potato　grower；　it　is　rarer　but　it　is　as　natural；　it　is　as　natural　to　seek　explanations　and　arrange　facts　as　it　is　to　make　love；　or　adorn　a　hut；　or　show　kindness　to　a　child。　　It　is　a　folly　I　will　not　even　dispute　about；　that　man's　only　natural　implement　is　the　spade。　Imagination；　pride；　exalted　desire　are　just　as　much　Man；　as　are　hunger　and　thirst　and　sexual　curiosities　and　the　panic　dread　of　unknown　things。　。　。　。　〃Now　you　see　better　what　I　mean　about　choice。　　Now　you　see　what　I　am　driving　at。　　We　have　to　choose　each　one　for　himself　and　also　each　one　for　the　race；　whether　we　will　accept　the　muddle　of　the　common　life；　whether　we　ourselves　will　be　muddled；　weakly　nothings；　children　of　luck；　steering　our　artful　courses　for　mean　success　and　tawdry　honours；　or　whether　we　will　be　aristocrats；　for　that　is　what　it　amounts　to；　each　one　in　the　measure　of　his　personal　quality　an　aristocrat；　refusing　to　be　restrained　by　fear；　refusing　to　be　restrained　by　pain；　resolved　to　know　and　understand　up　to　the　hilt　of　his　understanding；　resolved　to　sacrifice　all　the　common　stuff　of　his　life　to　the　perfection　of　his　peculiar　gift；　a　purged　man；　a　trained；　selected；　artificial　man；　not　simply　free；　but　lordly　free；　filled　and　sustained　by　pride。　　Whether　you　or　I　make　that　choice　and　whether　you　or　I　succeed　in　realizing　ourselves；　though　a　great　matter　to　ourselves；　is；　I　admit；　a　small　matter　to　the　world。　　But　the　great　matter　is　this；　that　THE　CHOICE　IS　BEING　MADE；　that　it　will　continue　to　be　made；　and　that　all　around　us；　so　that　it　can　never　be　arrested　and　darkened　again；　is　the　dawn　of　human　possibility。　。　。　。〃　（White　could　also　see　his　dead　friend's　face　with　its　enthusiastic　paleness；　its　disordered　hair　and　the　glowing　darknesses　in　the　eyes。　　On　such　occasions　Benham　always　had　an　expression　of　ESCAPE。　Temporary　escape。　　And　thus　would　his　hand　have　clutched　the　reading…desk；　thus　would　his　long　fingers　have　rustled　these　dry　papers。）　〃Man　has　reached　a　point　when　a　new　life　opens　before　him。　。　。　。　〃The　old　habitual　life　of　man　is　breaking　up　all　about　us；　and　for　the　new　life　our　minds；　our　imaginations；　our　habits　and　customs　are　all　unprepared。　。　。　。　〃It　is　only　now；　after　some　years　of　study　and　living；　that　I　begin　to　realize　what　this　tremendous　beginning　we　call　Science　means　to　mankind。　　Every　condition　that　once　justified　the　rules　and　imperatives；　the　manners　and　customs；　the　sentiments；　the　morality；　the　laws　and　limitations　which　make　up　the　common　life；　has　been　or　is　being　destroyed。　。　。　。　　Two　or　three　hundred　years　more　and　all　that　life　will　be　as　much　a　thing　past　and　done　with　as　the　life　that　was　lived　in　the　age　of　unpolished　stone。　。　。　。　〃Man　is　leaving　his　ancestral　shelters　and　going　out　upon　the　greatest　adventure　that　ever　was　in　space　or　time；　he　is　doing　it　now；　he　is　doing　it　in　us　as　I　stand　here　and　read　to　you。〃

CHAPTER　THE　SECOND　THE　YOUNG　MAN　ABOUT　TOWN

1

The　oldest　novel　in　the　world　at　any　rate；　White　reflected；　was　a　story　with　a　hero　and　no　love　interest　worth　talking　about。　　It　was　the　story　of　Tobias　and　how　he　came　out　from　the　shelters　of　his　youth　into　this　magic　and　intricate　world。　　Its　heroine　was　incidental；　part　of　the　spoil；　a　seven　times　relict。　。　。　。　White　had　not　read　the　book　of　Tobit　for　many　years；　and　what　he　was　really　thinking　of　was　not　that　ancient　story　at　all；　but　Botticelli's　picture；　that　picture　of　the　sunlit　morning　of　life。　When　you　say　〃Tobias〃　that　is　what　most　intelligent　people　will　recall。　　Perhaps　you　will　remember　how　gaily　and　confidently　the　young　man　strides　along　with　the　armoured　angel　by　his　side。　Absurdly　enough；　Benham　and　his　dream　of　high　aristocracy　reminded　White　of　that。　。　。　。　〃We　have　all　been　Tobias　in　our　time；〃　said　White。　If　White　had　been　writing　this　chapter　he　would　have　in　all　probability　called　it　THE　TOBIAS　STAGE；　forgetful　that　there　was　no　Tobit　behind　Benham　and　an　entirely　different　Sara　in　front　of　him。

2

From　Cambridge　Benham　came　to　London。　　For　the　first　time　he　was　to　live　in　London。　　Never　before　had　he　been　in　London　for　more　than　a　few　days　at　a　time。　　But　now；　guided　by　his　mother's　advice；　he　was　to　have　a　flat　in　Finacue　street；　just　round　the　corner　from　Desborough　Street；　a　flat　very　completely　and　delightfully　furnished　under　her　supervision。　　It　had　an　admirable　study；　in　which　she　had　arranged　not　only　his　books；　but　a　number　of　others　in　beautiful　old　leather　bindings　that　it　had　amused　her　extremely　to　buy；　it　had　a　splendid　bureau　and　business…like　letter…filing　cabinets；　a　neat　little　drawing…room　and　a　dining…room；　well…placed　abundant　electric　lights；　and　a　man　called　Merkle　whom　she　had　selected　very　carefully　and　who　she　felt　would　not　only　see　to　Benham's　comfort　but　keep　him；　if　necessary；　up　to　the　mark。　This　man　Merkle　seemed　quite　unaware　that　humanity　〃here　and　now〃　even　as　he　was　engaged　in　meticulously　putting　out　Benham's　clothes　was　‘‘leaving　its　ancestral　shelters　and　going　out　upon　the　greatest　adventure　that　ever　was　in　space　or　time。〃　　If　he　had　been　told　as　much　by　Benham　he　would　probably　have　said；　〃Indeed；　sir；〃　and　proceeded　accurately　with　his　duties。　　And　if　Benham's　voice　had　seemed　to　call　for　any　additional　remark；　he　would　probably　have　added；　〃It's　‘igh　time；　sir；　something　of　the　sort　was　done。　　Will　you　have　the　white　wesket　as　before；　sir；　or