the research magnificent-第24章

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engagements。　　Every　morning　came　Merkle；　the　embodiment　of　the　established　routine；　the　herald　of　all　that　the　world　expected　and　required　Benham　to　be　and　do。　　Usually　he　awakened　Benham　with　the　opening　of　his　door　and　the　soft　tinkle　of　the　curtain　rings　as　he　let　in　the　morning　light。　　He　moved　softly　about　the　room；　gathering　up　and　removing　the　crumpled　hulls　of　yesterday；　that　done　he　reappeared　at　the　bedside　with　a　cup　of　admirable　tea　and　one　thin　slice　of　bread…and…butter；　reported　on　the　day's　weather；　stood　deferential　for　instructions。　〃You　will　be　going　out　for　lunch；　sir。　　Very　good；　sir。　　White　slips　of　course；　sir。　　You　will　go　down　into　the　country　in　the　afternoon？　Will　that　be　the　serge　suit；　sir；　or　the　brown？〃　These　matters　settled；　the　new　aristocrat　could　yawn　and　stretch　like　any　aristocrat　under　the　old　dispensation；　and　then　as　the　sound　of　running　water　from　the　bathroom　ceased；　stick　his　toes　out　of　bed。　The　day　was　tremendously　indicated。　　World…states　and　aristocracies　of　steel　and　fire；　things　that　were　as　real　as　coal…scuttles　in　Billy's　rooms　away　there　at　Cambridge；　were　now　remoter　than　Sirius。　He　was　expected　to　shave；　expected　to　bath；　expected　to　go　in　to　the　bright　warmth　and　white　linen　and　silver　and　china　of　his　breakfast…　table。　　And　there　he　found　letters　and　invitations；　loaded　with　expectation。　　And　beyond　the　coffee…pot；　neatly　folded；　lay　the　TIMES；　and　the　DAILY　NEWS　and　the　TELEGRAPH　all　with　an　air　of　requiring　his　attention。　　There　had　been　more　fighting　in　Thibet　and　Mr。　Ritchie　had　made　a　Free　Trade　speech　at　Croydon。　　The　Japanese　had　torpedoed　another　Russian　ironclad　and　a　British　cruiser　was　ashore　in　the　East　Indies。　　A　man　had　been　found　murdered　in　an　empty　house　in　Hoxton　and　the　King　had　had　a　conversation　with　General　Booth。　　Tadpole　was　in　for　North　Winchelsea；　beating　Taper　by　nine　votes；　and　there　had　been　a　new　cut　in　the　Atlantic　passenger　rates。　　He　was　expected　to　be　interested　and　excited　by　these　things。　Presently　the　telephone　bell　would　ring　and　he　would　hear　the　clear　little　voice　of　his　mother　full　of　imperative　expectations。　　He　would　be　round　for　lunch？　　Yes；　he　would　be　round　to　lunch。　　And　the　afternoon；　had　he　arranged　to　do　anything　with　his　afternoon？　　No！　put　off　Chexington　until　tomorrow。　　There　was　this　new　pianist；　it　was　really　an　EXPERIENCE；　and　one　might　not　get　tickets　again。　　And　then　tea　at　Panton's。　　It　was　rather　fun　at　Panton's。　。　。　。　　Oh！　Weston　Massinghay　was　coming　to　lunch。　　He　was　a　useful　man　to　know。　So　CLEVER。　。　。　。　　So　long；　my　dear　little　Son；　till　I　see　you。　。　。　。　So　life　puts　out　its　Merkle　threads；　as　the　poacher　puts　his　hair　noose　about　the　pheasant's　neck；　and　while　we　theorize　takes　hold　of　us。　。　。　。　It　came　presently　home　to　Benham　that　he　had　been　down　from　Cambridge　for　ten　months；　and　that　he　was　still　not　a　step　forward　with　the　realization　of　the　new　aristocracy。　　His　political　career　waited。　　He　had　done　a　quantity　of　things；　but　their　net　effect　was　incoherence。　　He　had　not　been　merely　passive；　but　his　efforts　to　break　away　into　creative　realities　had　added　to　rather　than　diminished　his　accumulating　sense　of　futility。　The　natural　development　of　his　position　under　the　influence　of　Lady　Marayne　had　enormously　enlarged　the　circle　of　his　acquaintances。　　He　had　taken　part　in　all　sorts　of　social　occasions；　and　sat　and　listened　to　a　representative　selection　of　political　and　literary　and　social　personages；　he　had　been　several　times　to　the　opera　and　to　a　great　number　and　variety　of　plays；　he　had　been　attentively　inconspicuous　in　several　really　good　week…end　parties。　　He　had　spent　a　golden　October　in　North　Italy　with　his　mother；　and　escaped　from　the　glowing　lassitude　of　Venice　for　some　days　of　climbing　in　the　Eastern　Alps。　　In　January；　in　an　outbreak　of　enquiry；　he　had　gone　with　Lionel　Maxim　to　St。　Petersburg　and　had　eaten　zakuska；　brightened　his　eyes　with　vodka；　talked　with　a　number　of　charming　people　of　the　war　that　was　then　imminent；　listened　to　gipsy　singers　until　dawn；　careered　in　sledges　about　the　most　silent　and　stately　of　capitals；　and　returned　with　Lionel；　discoursing　upon　autocracy　and　assassination；　Japan；　the　Russian　destiny；　and　the　government　of　Peter　the　Great。　　That　excursion　was　the　most　after　his　heart　of　all　the　dispersed　employments　of　his　first　year。　　Through　the　rest　of　the　winter　he　kept　himself　very　fit；　and　still　further　qualified　that　nervous　dislike　for　the　horse　that　he　had　acquired　from　Prothero　by　hunting　once　a　week　in　Essex。　　He　was　incurably　a　bad　horseman；　he　rode　without　sympathy；　he　was　unready　and　convulsive　at　hedges　and　ditches；　and　he　judged　distances　badly。　　His　white　face　and　rigid　seat　and　a　certain　joylessness　of　bearing　in　the　saddle　earned　him　the　singular　nickname；　which　never　reached　his　ears；　of　the　〃Galvanized　Corpse。〃　　He　got　through；　however；　at　the　cost　of　four　quite　trifling　spills　and　without　damaging　either　of　the　horses　he　rode。　　And　his　physical　self…respect　increased。　On　his　writing…desk　appeared　a　few　sheets　of　manuscript　that　increased　only　very　slowly。　　He　was　trying　to　express　his　Cambridge　view　of　aristocracy　in　terms　of　Finacue　Street；　West。　The　artistic　and　intellectual　movements　of　London　had　made　their　various　demands　upon　his　time　and　energies。　　Art　came　to　him　with　a　noble　assumption　of　his　interest　and　an　intention　that　presently　became　unpleasantly　obvious　to　sell　him　pictures　that　he　did　not　want　to　buy　and　explain　away　pictures　that　he　did。　　He　bought　one　or　two　modern　achievements；　and　began　to　doubt　if　art　and　aristocracy　had　any　necessary　connection。　　At　first　he　had　accepted　the　assumption　that　they　had。　　After　all；　he　reflected；　one　lives　rather　for　life　and　things　than　for　pictures　of　life　and　things　or　pictures　arising　out　of　life　and　things。　　This　Art　had　an　air　of　saying　something；　but　when　one　came　to　grips　with　it　what　had　it　to　say？　Unless　it　was　Yah！　　The　drama；　and　more　particularly　the　intellectual　drama；　challenged　his　attention。　　In　the　hands　of　Shaw；　Barker；　Masefield；　Galsworthy；　and　Hankin；　it；　too；　had　an　air　of　saying　something；　but　he　found　it　extremely　difficult　to　join　on　to　his　own　demands　upon　life　anything　whatever　that　the　intellectual　drama　had　the　air　of　having　said。　　He　would　sit　forward　in　the　front　row　of　the　dress…circle　with　his　cheek　on　his　hand　and　his　brow　slightly　knit。　　His　intentness　amused　observant　people。　　The　drama　that　did　not　profess　to　be　intellectual　he　went　to　with　Lady　Marayne；　and　usually　on　first　nights。　　Lady　Marayne　loved　a　big　first　night　at　St。　James's　Theatre　or　His　Majesty's。　　Afterwards；　perhaps；　Sir　Godfrey　would　join　them　at　a　supper　party；　and　all　sorts　of　clever　and　amusing　people　would　be　there　saying　keen　intimate　things　about　each　other。　　He　met　Yeats；　who　told　amusing　stories　about　George　Moore；　and　afterwards　he　met　George　Moore；　who　told　amusing　stories　about　Yeats；　and　it　was　all；　he　felt；　great　fun　for　the　people　who　were　in　it。　　But　he　was　not　in　it；　and　he　had　no　very　keen　desire　to　be　in　it。　　It　wasn't　his　stuff。　　He　had；　though　they　were　nowadays　rather　at　the　back　of　his　mind；　quite　other　intentions。　　In　the　meanwhile　all　these　things　took　up　his　time　and　distracted　his　attention。　There　was；　as　yet；　no　practicable　aviation　to　beguile　a　young　man　of　spirit；　but　there　were　times　when　Benham　found　himself　wondering　whether　there　might　not　be　something　rather　creditable　in　the　possession　and　control　of　a　motor…car　of　exceptional　power。　　Only　one　might　smash　people　up。　　Should　an　aristocrat　be　deterred　by　the　fear　of　smashing　people　up？　　If　it　is　a　selfish　fear　of　smashing　people　up；　if　it　is　nerves　rather　than　pity？　　At　any　rate　it　did　not　come　to　the　car。

6

Among　other　things　that　delayed　Benham　very　greatly　in　the　development　of　his　aristocratic　experiments　was　the　advice　that　was　coming　to　him　from　every　quarter。　　It　came　in　extraordinary　variety　and　volume；　but　always　it　had　one　unvarying　feature。　　It　ignored　and　tacitly　contradicted　his　private　intentions。　We　are　all　of　us　disposed　to　be　propagandists　of　our　way　of　living；　and　the　spectacle　of　a　wealthy　young　man　quite　at　large　is　enough　to　excite　the　most　temperate　of　us　without　distinction　of　age　or　sex。　〃If　I　were