the research magnificent-第29章

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degrees。　　It　had　been　raised　almost　subconsciously。　　And　by　still　obscurer　processes　this　finger　had　become　Mrs。　Skelmersdale。　　He　recognized　her　sudden　reappearance　above　the　threshold　of　consciousness　with　mild　surprise。　　He　had　almost　forgotten　her　share　in　these　problems。　　He　had　supposed　her　dismissed　to　an　entirely　subordinate　position。　。　。　。　Then　he　perceived　that　the　workmen　in　the　chalk　pit　far　below　had　knocked　off　and　were　engaged　upon　their　midday　meal。　　He　understood　why　his　mind　was　no　longer　moving　forward　with　any　alacrity。　Food？　The　question　where　he　should　eat　arose　abruptly　and　dismissed　all　other　problems　from　his　mind。　　He　unfolded　a　map。Here　must　be　the　chalk　pit；　here　was　Dorking。　　That　village　was　Brockham　Green。　Should　he　go　down　to　Dorking　or　this　way　over　Box　Hill　to　the　little　inn　at　Burford　Bridge。　　He　would　try　the　latter。

14

The　April　sunset　found　our　young　man　talking　to　himself　for　greater　emphasis；　and　wandering　along　a　turfy　cart…track　through　a　wilderness　mysteriously　planted　with　great　bushes　of　rhododendra　on　the　Downs　above　Shere。　　He　had　eaten　a　belated　lunch　at　Burford　Bridge；　he　had　got　some　tea　at　a　little　inn　near　a　church　with　a　splendid　yew　tree；　and　for　the　rest　of　the　time　he　had　wandered　and　thought。　　He　had　travelled　perhaps　a　dozen　or　fifteen　miles；　and　a　good　way　from　his　first　meditations　above　the　Dorking　chalk　pit。　He　had　recovered　long　ago　from　that　remarkable　conception　of　an　active　if　dishonest　political　career　as　a　means　of　escaping　Mrs。　Skelmersdale　and　all　that　Mrs。　Skelmersdale　symbolized。　　That　would　be　just　louting　from　one　bad　thing　to　another。　　He　had　to　settle　Mrs。　Skelmersdale　clean　and　right；　and　he　had　to　do　as　exquisitely　right　in　politics　as　he　could　devise。　　If　the　public　life　of　the　country　had　got　itself　into　a　stupid　antagonism　of　two　undesirable　things；　the　only　course　for　a　sane　man　of　honour　was　to　stand　out　from　the　parties　and　try　and　get　them　back　to　sound　issues　again。　There　must　be　endless　people　of　a　mind　with　himself　in　this　matter。　And　even　if　there　were　not；　if　he　was　the　only　man　in　the　world；　he　still　had　to　follow　his　lights　and　do　the　right。　　And　his　business　was　to　find　out　the　right。　。　。　。　He　came　back　from　these　imaginative　excursions　into　contemporary　politics　with　one　idea　confirmed　in　his　mind；　an　idea　that　had　been　indeed　already　in　his　mind　during　his　Cambridge　days。　　This　was　the　idea　of　working　out　for　himself；　thoroughly　and　completely；　a　political　scheme；　a　theory　of　his　work　and　duty　in　the　world；　a　plan　of　the　world's　future　that　should　give　a　rule　for　his　life。　　The　Research　Magnificent　was　emerging。　　It　was　an　alarmingly　vast　proposal；　but　he　could　see　no　alternative　but　submission；　a　plebeian's　submission　to　the　currents　of　life　about　him。　Little　pictures　began　to　flit　before　his　imagination　of　the　way　in　which　he　might　build　up　this　tremendous　inquiry。　　He　would　begin　by　hunting　up　people；　everybody　who　seemed　to　have　ideas　and　promise　ideas　he　would　get　at。　　He　would　travel　farand　exhaustively。　　He　would；　so　soon　as　the　ideas　seemed　to　indicate　it；　hunt　out　facts。　He　would　learn　how　the　world　was　governed。　　He　would　learn　how　it　did　its　thinking。　　He　would　live　sparingly。　　（〃Not　TOO　sparingly；''　something　interpolated。）　　He　would　work　ten　or　twelve　hours　a　day。　Such　a　course　of　investigation　must　pass　almost　of　its　own　accord　into　action　and　realization。　　He　need　not　trouble　now　how　it　would　bring　him　into　politics。　　Inevitably　somewhere　it　would　bring　him　into　politics。　　And　he　would　travel。　　Almost　at　once　he　would　travel。　　It　is　the　manifest　duty　of　every　young　aristocrat　to　travel。　　Here　he　was；　ruling　India。　　At　any　rate；　passively；　through　the　mere　fact　of　being　English；　he　was　ruling　India。　　And　he　knew　nothing　of　India。　　He　knew　nothing　indeed　of　Asia。　　So　soon　as　he　returned　to　London　his　preparations　for　this　travel　must　begin；　he　must　plot　out　the　men　to　whom　he　would　go；　and　so　contrive　that　also　he　would　go　round　the　world。　　Perhaps　he　would　get　Lionel　Maxim　to　go　with　him。　　Or　if　Maxim　could　not　come；　then　possibly　Prothero。　Some　one　surely　could　be　found；　some　one　thinking　and　talking　of　statecraft　and　the　larger　idea　of　life。　　All　the　world　is　not　swallowed　up　in　every　day。　。　。　。

15

His　mind　shifted　very　suddenly　from　these　large　proposals　to　an　entirely　different　theme。　　These　mental　landslips　are　not　unusual　when　men　are　thinking　hard　and　wandering。　　He　found　himself　holding　a　trial　upon　himself　for　Presumptuousness；　for　setting　himself　up　against　the　wisdom　of　the　ages；　and　the　decisions　of　all　the　established　men　in　the　world；　for　being　in　short　a　Presumptuous　Sort　of　Ass。　　He　was　judge　and　jury　and　prosecutor；　but　rather　inexplicably　the　defence　was　conducted　in　an　irregular　and　undignified　way　by　some　inferior　stratum　of　his　being。　At　first　the　defence　contented　itself　with　arguments　that　did　at　least　aim　to　rebut　the　indictment。　　The　decisions　of　all　the　established　men　in　the　world　were　notoriously　in　conflict。　　However　great　was　the　gross　wisdom　of　the　ages　the　net　wisdom　was　remarkably　small。　　Was　it　after　all　so　very　immodest　to　believe　that　the　Liberals　were　right　in　what　they　said　about　Tariff　Reform；　and　the　Tories　right　in　their　criticism　of　Home　Rule？　And　then　suddenly　the　defence　threw　aside　its　mask　and　insisted　that　Benham　had　to　take　this　presumptuous　line　because　there　was　no　other　tolerable　line　possible　for　him。　〃Better　die　with　the　Excelsior　chap　up　the　mountains；〃　the　defence　interjected。　Than　what？　Consider　the　quality　Benham　had　already　betrayed。　　He　was　manifestly　incapable　of　a　decent　modest　mediocre　existence。　　Already　he　had　ceased　to　beif　one　may　use　so　fine　a　word　for　genteel　abstinence　virtuous。　　He　didn't　ride　well；　he　hadn't　good　hands；　and　he　hadn't　good　hands　for　life。　　He　must　go　hard　and　harsh；　high　or　low。　　He　was　a　man　who　needed　BITE　in　his　life。　　He　was　exceptionally　capable　of　boredom。　　He　had　been　bored　by　London。　　Social　occasions　irritated　him；　several　times　he　had　come　near　to　gross　incivilities；　art　annoyed　him；　sport　was　an　effort；　wholesome　perhaps；　but　unattractive；　music　he　loved；　but　it　excited　him。　　The　defendant　broke　the　sunset　calm　by　uttering　amazing　and　improper　phrases。　〃I　can't　smug　about　in　a　state　of　falsified　righteousness　like　these　Crampton　chaps。　〃I　shall　roll　in　women。　　I　shall　rollick　in　women。　　If；　that　is；　I　stay　in　London　with　nothing　more　to　do　than　I　have　had　this　year　past。　〃I've　been　sliding　fast　to　it。　。　。　。　〃NO！　　I'M　DAMNED　IF　I　DO！　。　。　。

16

For　some　time　he　had　been　bothered　by　a　sense　of　something；　something　else；　awaiting　his　attention。　　Now　it　came　swimming　up　into　his　consciousness。　　He　had　forgotten。　　He　was；　of　course；　going　to　sleep　out　under　the　stars。　He　had　settled　that　overnight；　that　was　why　he　had　this　cloak　in　his　rucksack；　but　he　had　settled　none　of　the　details。　　Now　he　must　find　some　place　where　he　could　lie　down。　　Here；　perhaps；　in　this　strange　forgotten　wilderness　of　rhododendra。　He　turned　off　from　the　track　and　wandered　among　the　bushes。　　One　might　lie　down　anywhere　here。　　But　not　yet；　it　was　as　yet　barely　twilight。　　He　consulted　his　watch。　　HALF…PAST　SEVEN。　Nearly　dinner…time。　。　。　。　No　doubt　Christian　during　the　earlier　stages　of　his　pilgrimage　noticed　the　recurrence　of　the　old　familiar　hours　of　his　life　of　emptiness　and　vanity。　　Or　rather　of　vanitysimply。　　Why　drag　in　the　thought　of　emptiness　just　at　this　point？　。　。　。　It　was　very　early　to　go　to　bed。　He　might　perhaps　sit　and　think　for　a　time。　　Here　for　example　was　a　mossy　bank；　a　seat；　and　presently　a　bed。　　So　far　there　were　only　three　stars　visible　but　more　would　come。　　He　dropped　into　a　reclining　attitude。　　DAMP！　When　one　thinks　of　sleeping　out　under　the　stars　one　is　apt　to　forget　the　dew。　He　spread　his　Swiss　cloak　out　on　the　soft　thick　carpeting　of　herbs　and　moss；　and　arranged　his　knapsack　as　a　pillow。　　Here　he　would　lie　and　recapitulate　the　thoughts　of　the　day。　　（That　squealing　might　be　a　young　fox。）　　At　the　club　at　present　men　would　be　sitting　about　holding　themselves　back　from　dinner。　　Excellent　the　clear　soup　always　was　at　the　club！　　Then　perhaps　a　Chateaubriand。　　Thatwhat　was　that？　　Soft　and　large　and　quite　near　and　noiseless。　　An　owl！