manalive-第16章

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In　that　shining　unshaken　surface　the　houses　hang　head
downwards　exactly　to　their　highest　or　lowest　chimney。
The　coral…coloured　cloud　seen　in　that　abyss　is　as　far
below　the　world　as　its　original　appears　above　it。
Every　scrap　of　water　is　not　only　a　window　but　a　skylight。
Earth　splits　under　men's　feet　into　precipitous　aerial　perspectives；
into　which　a　bird　could　as　easily　wing　its　way　as〃

Dr。　Cyrus　Pym　rose　in　protest。　　The　documents　he　had　put
in　evidence　had　been　confined　to　cold　affirmation　of　fact。
The　defence；　in　a　general　way；　had　an　indubitable　right　to　put
their　case　in　their　own　way；　but　all　this　landscape　gardening
seemed　to　him　（Dr。　Cyrus　Pym）　to　be　not　up　to　the　business。
〃Will　the　leader　of　the　defence　tell　me；〃　he　asked；　〃how　it　can
possibly　affect　this　case；　that　a　cloud　was　cor'l…coloured；
or　that　a　bird　could　have　winged　itself　anywhere？〃

〃Oh；　I　don't　know；〃　said　Michael；　lifting　himself　lazily；
〃you　see；　you　don't　know　yet　what　our　defence　is。
Till　you　know　that；　don't　you　see；　anything　may　be　relevant。
Why；　suppose；〃　he　said　suddenly；　as　if　an　idea　had　struck　him；
〃suppose　we　wanted　to　prove　the　old　Warden　colour…blind。
Suppose　he　was　shot　by　a　black　man　with　white　hair；　when　he
thought　he　was　being　shot　by　a　white　man　with　yellow　hair！
To　ascertain　if　that　cloud　was　really　and　truly　coral…coloured
might　be　of　the　most　massive　importance。〃

He　paused　with　a　seriousness　which　was　hardly　generally　shared；
and　continued　with　the　same　fluence：　　〃Or　suppose　we　wanted　to
maintain　that　the　Warden　committed　suicidethat　he　just　got　Smith
to　hold　the　pistol　as　Brutus's　slave　held　the　sword。　　Why；　it　would
make　all　the　difference　whether　the　Warden　could　see　himself　plain
in　still　water。　　Still　water　has　made　hundreds　of　suicides：
one　sees　oneself　so　verywell；　so　very　plain。〃

〃Do　you；　perhaps；〃　inquired　Pym　with　austere　irony；　〃maintain　that　your　client
was　a　bird　of　some　sortsay；　a　flamingo？〃

〃In　the　matter　of　his　being　a　flamingo；〃　said　Moon　with　sudden　severity；
〃my　client　reserves　his　defence。〃

No　one　quite　knowing　what　to　make　of　this；　Mr。　Moon　resumed　his　seat
and　Inglewood　resumed　the　reading　of　his　document：


〃There　is　something　pleasing　to　a　mystic　in　such　a　land　of　mirrors。
For　a　mystic　is　one　who　holds　that　two　worlds　are　better　than　one。
In　the　highest　sense；　indeed；　all　thought　is　reflection。

〃This　is　the　real　truth；　in　the　saying　that　second　thoughts　are　best。
Animals　have　no　second　thoughts；　man　alone　is　able　to　see　his　own
thought　double；　as　a　drunkard　sees　a　lamp…post；　man　alone　is　able
to　see　his　own　thought　upside　down　as　one　sees　a　house　in　a　puddle。
This　duplication　of　mentality；　as　in　a　mirror；　is　（we　repeat）
the　inmost　thing　of　human　philosophy。　　There　is　a　mystical；　even　a
monstrous　truth；　in　the　statement　that　two　heads　are　better　than　one。
But　they　ought　both　to　grow　on　the　same　body。'〃


〃I　know　it's　a　little　transcendental　at　first；〃　interposed　Inglewood；
beaming　round　with　a　broad　apology；　〃but　you　see　this　document　was　written
in　collaboration　by　a　don　and　a〃

〃Drunkard；　eh？〃　suggested　Moses　Gould；　beginning　to　enjoy　himself。

〃I　rather　think；〃　proceeded　Inglewood　with　an　unruffled
and　critical　air；　〃that　this　part　was　written　by　the　don。
I　merely　warn　the　Court　that　the　statement；　though　indubitably　accurate；
bears　here　and　there　the　trace　of　coming　from　two　authors。〃

〃In　that　case；〃　said　Dr。　Pym；　leaning　back　and　sniffing；
〃I　cannot　agree　with　them　that　two　heads　are　better　than　one。〃


〃The　undersigned　persons　think　it　needless　to　touch　on　a　kindred
problem　so　often　discussed　at　committees　for　University　Reform：
the　question　of　whether　dons　see　double　because　they　are　drunk；
or　get　drunk　because　they　see　double。　　It　is　enough　for　them
（the　undersigned　persons）　if　they　are　able　to　pursue　their　own　peculiar
and　profitable　themewhich　is　puddles。　　What　（the　undersigned
persons　ask　themselves）　is　a　puddle？　　A　puddle　repeats　infinity；
and　is　full　of　light；　nevertheless；　if　analyzed　objectively；
a　puddle　is　a　piece　of　dirty　water　spread　very　thin　on　mud。
The　two　great　historic　universities　of　England　have　all　this　large
and　level　and　reflective　brilliance。　　Nevertheless；　or；　rather；　on　the
other　hand；　they　are　puddlespuddles；　puddles；　puddles；　puddles。
The　undersigned　persons　ask　you　to　excuse　an　emphasis　inseparable
from　strong　conviction。〃


Inglewood　ignored　a　somewhat　wild　expression　on　the　faces　of　some　present；
and　continued　with　eminent　cheerfulness：


〃Such　were　the　thoughts　that　failed　to　cross　the　mind　of
the　undergraduate　Smith　as　he　picked　his　way　among　the　stripes
of　canal　and　the　glittering　rainy　gutters　into　which　the　water
broke　up　round　the　back　of　Brakespeare　College。　　Had　these　thoughts
crossed　his　mind　he　would　have　been　much　happier　than　he　was。
Unfortunately　he　did　not　know　that　his　puzzles　were　puddles。
He　did　not　know　that　the　academic　mind　reflects　infinity　and　is　full
of　light　by　the　simple　process　of　being　shallow　and　standing　still。
In　his　case；　therefore；　there　was　something　solemn；　and　even　evil
about　the　infinity　implied。　　It　was　half…way　through　a　starry
night　of　bewildering　brilliancy；　stars　were　both　above　and　below。
To　young　Smith's　sullen　fancy　the　skies　below　seemed　even　hollower
than　the　skies　above；　he　had　a　horrible　idea　that　if　he　counted
the　stars　he　would　find　one　too　many　in　the　pool。

〃In　crossing　the　little　paths　and　bridges　he　felt　like　one　stepping
on　the　black　and　slender　ribs　of　some　cosmic　Eiffel　Tower。　　For　to　him；
and　nearly　all　the　educated　youth　of　that　epoch；　the　stars　were　cruel　things。
Though　they　glowed　in　the　great　dome　every　night；　they　were　an　enormous
and　ugly　secret；　they　uncovered　the　nakedness　of　nature；　they　were　a　glimpse
of　the　iron　wheels　and　pulleys　behind　the　scenes。　　For　the　young　men
of　that　sad　time　thought　that　the　god　always　comes　from　the　machine。
They　did　not　know　that　in　reality　the　machine　only　comes　from　the　god。
IN　short；　they　were　all　pessimists；　and　starlight　was　atrocious　to　them
atrocious　because　it　was　true。　　All　their　universe　was　black　with　white　spots。

〃Smith　looked　up　with　relief　from　the　glittering　pools　below
to　the　glittering　skies　and　the　great　black　bulk　of　the　college。
The　only　light　other　than　stars　glowed　through　one　peacock…green
curtain　in　the　upper　part　of　the　building；　marking　where
Dr。　Emerson　Eames　always　worked　till　morning　and　received
his　friends　and　favourite　pupils　at　any　hour　of　the　night。
Indeed；　it　was　to　his　rooms　that　the　melancholy　Smith　was　bound。
Smith　had　been　at　Dr。　Eames's　lecture　for　the　first　half　of　the　morning；
and　at　pistol　practice　and　fencing　in　a　saloon　for　the　second　half。
He　had　been　sculling　madly　for　the　first　half　of　the　afternoon
and　thinking　idly　（and　still　more　madly）　for　the　second　half。
He　had　gone　to　a　supper　where　he　was　uproarious；　and　on　to　a　debating
club　where　he　was　perfectly　insufferable；　and　the　melancholy
Smith　was　melancholy　still。　　Then；　as　he　was　going　home　to　his
diggings　he　remembered　the　eccentricity　of　his　friend　and　master；
the　Warden　of　Brakespeare；　and　resolved　desperately　to　turn
in　to　that　gentleman's　private　house。

〃Emerson　Eames　was　an　eccentric　in　many　ways；　but　his　throne
in　philosophy　and　metaphysics　was　of　international　eminence；
the　university　could　hardly　have　afforded　to　lose　him；　and；　moreover；
a　don　has　only　to　continue　any　of　his　bad　habits　long　enough
to　make　them　a　part　of　the　British　Constitution。　　The　bad　habits
of　Emerson　Eames　were　to　sit　up　all　night　and　to　be　a　student
of　Schopenhauer。　　Personally；　he　was　a　lean；　lounging　sort　of　man；
with　a　blond　pointed　beard；　not　so　very　much　older　than　his
pupil　Smith　in　the　matter　of　mere　years；　but　older　by　centuries
in　the　two　essential　respects　of　having　a　European　reputation
and　a　bald　head。

〃‘I　came；　against　the　rules；　at　this　unearthly　hour；'　said　Smith；　who　was
nothing　to　the　eye　except　a　very　big　man　trying　to　make　himself　small；
‘because　I　am　coming　to　the　conclusion　that　existence　is　really　too　rotten。
I　know　all　the　arguments　of　the　thinkers　that　think　otherwisebishops；
and　agnostics；　and　those　sort　of　people。　　And　knowing　you　were　the　greatest
living　authority　on　the　pessimist　thinkers'

〃‘All　thinkers；'　said　Eames；　‘are　pessimist　thinkers。'

〃After　a　patch　of　pause；　not　the　firstfor　this　depressing　conversation
had　gone　on　for　some　hours　with　alternations　of　cynicism　and　silence
the　Warden　continued　with　his　air　of　weary　brilliancy：　　‘It's　all　a　question
of　wrong　calculation。　　The　most　flies　into　the　candle　because　he　doesn't
happen　to　know　that　the　game　is　not　worth　the　candle。　　The　wasp　gets
into　the　jam　in　hearty　and　hopeful　efforts　to　get　the　jam　into　him。
IN　the　same　way　the　vulgar　people　want　to　enjoy　life　just　as　they　want
to　enjoy　ginbecause　they　are　too　stupid　to　see　that　they　are　paying　too　big
a　price　for　it。　　That　they　never　find　happinessthat　they　don't　even　know
how　to　look　for　itis　proved　by　the　paralyzing　clumsiness　and　ugliness
of　everything　they　do。　　Their　discordant　colours　are　cries　of　pain。
Look　at　the　brick　villas　beyond　the　college　on　this　side　of　the　river。
There's　one　with　spotted　blinds；　look　at　it！　just　go　and　look　at　it！'

〃‘Of　course；'　he　went　on　dreamily；　‘one　or　two　men　see　the　sober
fact　a　long　way　offthey　go　mad。　　Do　you　notice　that　maniacs　mostly
try　either　to　destroy　other　things；　or　（if　they　are　thoughtful）
to　destroy　themselves？　　The　madman　is　the　man　behind　the　scenes；
like　the　man　that　wanders　about　the　coulisse　of　a　theater。
He　has　only　opened　the　wrong　door　and　come　into　the　right　place。
He　sees　things　at　the　right　angle。　　But　the　common　world'

〃‘Oh；　hang　the　common　world！'　said　the　sullen　Smith；　letting　his　fist
fall　on　the　table　in　an　idle　despair。

〃‘Let's　give　it　a　bad　name　first；'　said　the　Professor　calmly；
‘and　then　hang　it。　　A　puppy　with　hydrophobia　would　probably　struggle
for　life　while　we　killed　it；　but　if　we　were　kind　we　should　kill　it。
So　an　omniscient　god　would　put　us　out　of　our　pain。
He　would　strike　us　dead。'

〃‘Why　doesn't　he　strike　us　dead？'　asked　the　undergraduate　abstractedly；
plunging　his　hands　into　his　pockets。

〃‘He　is　dead　himself；'　said　the　philosopher；　‘that　is　where
he　is　really　enviable。'

〃‘To　any　one　who　thinks；'　proceeded　Eames；　‘the　pleasures　of　life；
trivial　and　soon　tasteless；　and　bribes　to　bring　us　into　a　torture　chamber。
We　all　see　that　for　any　thinking　man　mere　extinction　is　the。。。　What
are　you　doing？。。。　Are　you　mad？。。。　Put　that　thing　down。'

〃Dr。　Eames　had　turned　his　tired　but　still　talkative　head　over　his　shoulder；
and　had　found　himself　looking　into　a　small　round　black　hole；　rimmed　by　a
six…sided　circlet　of　steel；　with　a　sort　of　spike　standing　up　on　the　top。
It　fixed　him　like　an　iron　eye。　　Through　those　eternal　instants　during
which　the　reason　is　stunned　he　did　not　even　know　what　it　was。
Then　he　saw　behind　it　the　chambered　barrel　and　cocked　hammer　of
a　revolver；　and　behind　that　the　flushed　and　rather　heavy　face　of　Smith；
apparently　quite　unchanged；　or　even　more　mild　than　before。

〃‘I'll　help　you　out　of　your　hole；　old　man；'　said　Smith；
with　rough　tenderness。　　‘I'll　put　the　puppy　out　of　his　pai