第21章
加入书架 A- A+
点击下载App,搜索"TONO-BUNGAY",免费读到尾

  wasinvited。AndIdon’tmakeanythingoftheworldoutsideeither。Whatdoyoumakeofit?”

  “London。”Ibegan。“It’s——soenormous!”

  “Isn’tit!Andit’salluptonothing。Youfindchapskeepinggrocers’shops——whytheDEVIL,Ponderevo,dotheykeepgrocers’

  shops?Theyalldoitverycarefully,verysteadily,verymeanly。Youfindpeoplerunningaboutanddoingthemostremarkablethingsbeingpolicemen,forexample,andburglars。

  Theygoaboutthesebusinessesquitegravelyandearnestly。I

  somehow——can’tgoaboutmine。Isthereanysenseinitatall——anywhere?”

  “Theremustbesenseinit。”Isaid。“We’reyoung。”

  “We’reyoung——yes。Butonemustinquire。Thegrocer’sagrocerbecause,Isuppose,heseeshecomesinthere。Feelsthatonthewholeitamountstoacall。ButthebotherisIdon’tseewhereIcomeinatall。Doyou?”

  “Whereyoucomein?”

  “No,whereyoucomein。”

  “Notexactly,yet。”Isaid。“Iwanttodosomegoodintheworld——something——somethingeffectual,beforeIdie。Ihaveasortofideamyscientificwork——Idon’tknow。”

  “Yes。”hemused。”AndI’vegotasortofideamysculpture,——butnowitistocomeinandWHY,——I’venoideaatall。”Hehuggedhiskneesforaspace。“That’swhatpuzzlesme,Ponderevo,noend。”

  Hebecameanimated。“Ifyouwilllookinthatcupboard。”hesaid,“youwillfindanoldrespectablelookingrollonaplateandaknifesomewhereandagallipotcontainingbutter。YougivethemmeandI’llmakemybreakfast,andthenifyoudon’tmindwatchingmepaddleaboutatmysimpletoiletI’llgetup。Thenwe’llgoforawalkandtalkaboutthisaffairoflifefurther。

  AndaboutArtandLiteratureandanythingelsethatcropsupontheway。Yes,that’sthegallipot。Cockroachgotinit?

  Chuckhimout——damnedinterloper。”

  Sointhefirstfiveminutesofourtalk,asIseemtorememberitnow,oldEwartstruckthenotethatranthroughallthatmorning’sintercourse。

  Tomeitwasamostmemorabletalkbecauseitopenedoutquitenewhorizonsofthought。I’dbeenworkingrathercloseandoutoftouchwithEwart’sfreegesticulatingway。Hewaspessimisticthatdayandscepticaltotheveryrootofthings。

  Hemademefeelclearly,whatIhadnotfeltatallbefore,thegeneraladventurousnessoflife,particularlyoflifeatthestagewehadreached,andalsotheabsenceofdefiniteobjects,ofanyconcertedpurposeinthelivesthatweregoingonallroundus。Hemademefeel,too,howreadyIwastotakeupcommonplaceassumptions。JustasIhadalwaysimaginedthatsomewhereinsocialarrangementstherewascertainlyaHead-Masterwhowouldinterveneifonewenttoofar,soIhadalwayshadasortofimplicitbeliefthatinourEnglandthereweresomewherepeoplewhounderstoodwhatwewereall,asanation,about。Thatcrumpledintohispitofdoubtandvanished。

  Hebroughtout,sharplycutandcertain,theimmenseeffectofpurposelessnessinLondonthatIwasalreadyindistinctlyfeeling。WefoundourselvesatlastreturningthroughHighgateCemeteryandWaterlowPark——andEwartwastalking。

  “Lookatitthere。”hesaid,stoppingandpointingtothegreatvaleofLondonspreadingwideandfar。“It’slikeasea——andweswiminit。Andatlastdownwego,andthenupwecome——washeduphere。”Heswunghisarmstothelongslopesaboutus,tombsandheadstonesinlongperspectives,inlimitlessrows。

  “We’reyoung,Ponderevo,butsoonerorlaterourwhitenedmemorieswillwashupononeofthesebeaches,onsomesuchbeachasthis。GeorgePonderevo,F。R。S。,SidneyEwart,R。I。P。Lookattherowsof’em!”

  Hepaused。“Doyouseethathand?Thehand,Imean,pointingupward,onthetopofabluntedobelisk。Yes。Well,that’swhatIdoforaliving——whenI’mnotthinking,ordrinking,orprowling,ormakinglove,orpretendingI’mtryingtobeasculptorwithouteitherthemoneyorthemoralsforamodel。

  See?AndIdothoseheartsafireandthosepensiveangelguardianswiththepalmofpeace。DamnedwellIdo’emanddamnedcheap!I’masweatedvictim,Ponderevo。”

  Thatwasthewayofit,anyhow。Idrankdeepoftalkthatday;

  wewentintotheology,intophilosophy;Ihadmyfirstglimpseofsocialism。IfeltasthoughIhadbeensilentinasilencesinceIandhehadparted。AtthethoughtofsocialismEwart’smoodschangedforatimetoasortofenergy。“Afterall,allthisconfoundedvaguenessmightbealtered。Ifyoucouldgetmentoworktogether。”

  Itwasagoodtalkthatrambledthroughalltheuniverse。I

  thoughtIwasgivingmymindrefreshment,butindeeditwasdissipation。Allsortsofideas,evennow,carrymebackasitweretoafountain-head,toWaterlowParkandmyresuscitatedEwart。TherestretchesawaysouthofuslonggardenslopesandwhitegravestonesandthewideexpanseofLondon,andsomewhereinthepictureisaredoldwall,sun-warmed,andagreatblazeofMichaelmasdaisiessetoffwithlategoldensunflowersandadriftofmottled,blood-red,fallenleaves。ItwaswithmethatdayasthoughIhadliftedmyheadsuddenlyoutofdullandimmediatethingsandlookedatlifealtogether。ButitplayedtheverydevilwiththecopyingupofmyarrearsofnotestowhichIhadvowedthelatterhalfofthatday。

  AfterthatreunionEwartandImetmuchandtalkedmuch,andinoursubsequentencountershismonologuewasinterruptedandI

  tookmyshare。HehadexercisedmesogreatlythatIlayawakeatnightsthinkinghimover,anddiscoursedandansweredhiminmyheadasIwentinthemorningtotheCollege。Iambynatureadoerandonlybythewayacritic;hisphilosophicalassertionoftheincalculablevaguenessoflifewhichfittedhisnaturalindolencerousedmymoreirritableandenergeticnaturetoactiveprotests。“It’sallsopointless。”Isaid,“becausepeopleareslackandbecauseit’sintheebbofanage。Butyou’reasocialist。Well,let’sbringthatabout!Andthere’sapurpose。Thereyouare!”

  Ewartgavemeallmyfirstconceptionsofsocialism;inalittlewhileIwasanenthusiasticsocialistandhewasapassiveresistertothepracticalexpositionofthetheorieshehadtaughtme。“Wemustjoinsomeorganisation。”Isaid。“Weoughttodothings。Weoughttogoandspeakatstreetcorners。

  Peopledon’tknow。”

  Youmustfiguremearatherill-dressedyoungmaninastateofgreatearnestness,standingupinthatshabbystudioofhisandsayingthesethings,perhapswithsomegesticulations,andEwartwithaclay-smudgedface,dressedperhapsinaflannelshirtandtrousers,withapipeinhismouth,squattingphilosophicallyatatable,workingatsomechunkofclaythatnevergotbeyondsuggestion。

  “Iwonderwhyonedoesn’twantto。”hesaid。

  ItwasonlyveryslowlyIcametogaugeEwart’srealpositionintheschemeofthings,tounderstandhowdeliberateandcompletewasthisdetachmentofhisfromthemoralcondemnationandresponsibilitiesthatplayedsofineapartinhistalk。Hiswasessentiallythenatureofanartisticappreciator;hecouldfindinterestandbeautyinendlessaspectsofthingsthatImarkedasevil,oratleastasnotnegotiable;andtheimpulseIhadtowardsself-deception,tosustainedandconsistentself-devotion,disturbedanddetachedandpointlessasitwasatthattime,hehadindeedasortofadmirationforbutnosympathy。Likemanyfantasticandampletalkershewasatbottomsecretive,andhegavemeaseriesoflittleshocksofdiscoverythroughoutourintercourse。

  Thefirstofthesecameintherealisationthathequiteseriouslymeanttodonothingintheworldatalltowardsreformingtheevilshelaidbareinsoeasyanddexterousamanner。Thenextcameinthesuddenappearanceofapersoncalled“Milly“——I’veforgottenhersurname——whomIfoundinhisroomoneevening,simplyattiredinabluewrap——therestofhercostumebehindthescreen——smokingcigarettesandsharingaflagonofanamazinglycheapandself-assertivegrocer’swineEwartaffected,called“CanarySack。”“Hullo!”saidEwart,asI

  camein。“ThisisMilly,youknow。She’sbeenbeingamodel——sheISamodelreally。keepcalm,Ponderevo!Havesomesack?”

  Millywasawomanofthirty,perhaps,withabroad,ratherprettyface,aplaciddisposition,abadaccentanddelightfulblondhairthatwavedoffherheadwithanirrepressiblevarietyofcharm;andwheneverEwartspokeshebeamedathim。Ewartwasalwayssketchingthishairofhersandembarkinguponclaystatuettesofherthatwereneverfinished。Shewas,Iknownow,awomanofthestreets,whomEwarthadpickedupinthemostcasualmanner,andwhohadfalleninlovewithhim,butmyinexperienceinthosedayswastoogreatformetoplaceherthen,andEwartofferednoelucidations。Shecametohim,hewenttoher,theytookholidaystogetherinthecountrywhencertainlyshesustainedherfairshareoftheirexpenditure。I

  suspecthimnowevenoftakingmoneyfromher。OddoldEwart!

  Itwasarelationshipsoalientomyorderlyconceptionsofhonour,towhatIcouldimagineanyfriendofminedoing,thatI

  reallyhardlysawitwithitthereundermynose。ButIseeitandIthinkIunderstanditnow。

  BeforeIfullygraspedthediscursivemannerinwhichEwartwascommittedtohisparticularwayinlife,Idid,Isay,asthebroadconstructiveideasofsocialismtookholdofme,trytogethimtoworkwithmeinsomedefinitefashionasasocialist。

  “Weoughttojoinontoothersocialists。”Isaid。

  “They’vegotsomething。”

  “Let’sgoandlookatsomefirst。”

点击下载App,搜索"TONO-BUNGAY",免费读到尾