manalive-第5章

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I　am　quite　tame；　I　am　about　the　tamest　beast　that　crawls。
I　drink　too　much　of　the　same　kind　of　whisky　at　the　same　time
every　night。　　I　even　drink　about　the　same　amount　too　much。
I　go　to　the　same　number　of　public…houses。　I　meet　the　same　damned
women　with　mauve　faces。　　I　hear　the　same　number　of　dirty　stories
generally　the　same　dirty　stories。　　You　may　assure　my　friends；
Inglewood；　that　you　see　before　you　a　person　whom　civilization
has　thoroughly　tamed。〃

Arthur　Inglewood　was　staring　with　feelings　that　made　him　nearly
fall　off　the　roof；　for　indeed　the　Irishman's　face；　always　sinister；
was　now　almost　demoniacal。

〃Christ　confound　it！〃　cried　out　Moon；　suddenly　clutching　the　empty
claret　bottle；　〃this　is　about　the　thinnest　and　filthiest　wine
I　ever　uncorked；　and　it's　the　only　drink　I　have　really　enjoyed
for　nine　years。　　I　was　never　wild　until　just　ten　minutes　ago。〃
And　he　sent　the　bottle　whizzing；　a　wheel　of　glass；　far　away　beyond
the　garden　into　the　road；　where；　in　the　profound　evening　silence；
they　could　even　hear　it　break　and　part　upon　the　stones。

〃Moon；〃　said　Arthur　Inglewood；　rather　huskily；　〃you　mustn't　be
so　bitter　about　it。　　Everyone　has　to　take　the　world　as　he　finds　it；
of　course　one　often　finds　it　a　bit　dull〃

〃That　fellow　doesn't；〃　said　Michael　decisively；　〃I　mean　that
fellow　Smith。　　I　have　a　fancy　there's　some　method　in　his　madness。
It　looks　as　if　he　could　turn　into　a　sort　of　wonderland　any　minute　by　taking
one　step　out　of　the　plain　road。　　Who　would　have　thought　of　that　trapdoor？
Who　would　have　thought　that　this　cursed　colonial　claret　could　taste　quite
nice　among　the　chimney…pots？　Perhaps　that　is　the　real　key　of　fairyland。
Perhaps　Nosey　Gould's　beastly　little　Empire　Cigarettes　ought　only　to
be　smoked　on　stilts；　or　something　of　that　sort。　　Perhaps　Mrs。　Duke's
cold　leg　of　mutton　would　seem　quite　appetizing　at　the　top　of　a　tree。
Perhaps　even　my　damned；　dirty；　monotonous　drizzle　of　Old　Bill　Whisky〃

〃Don't　be　so　rough　on　yourself；〃　said　Inglewood；　in　serious　distress。
〃The　dullness　isn't　your　fault　or　the　whisky's。　Fellows　who　don't
fellows　like　me　I　meanhave　just　the　same　feeling　that　it's　all　rather
flat　and　a　failure。　　But　the　world's　made　like　that；　it's　all　survival。
Some　people　are　made　to　get　on；　like　Warner；　and　some　people　are
made　to　stick　quiet；　like　me。　　You　can't　help　your　temperament。
I　know　you're　much　cleverer　than　I　am；　but　you　can't　help　having
all　the　loose　ways　of　a　poor　literary　chap；　and　I　can't　help
having　all　the　doubts　and　helplessness　of　a　small　scientific　chap；
any　more　than　a　fish　can　help　floating　or　a　fern　can　help　curling　up。
Humanity；　as　Warner　said　so　well　in　that　lecture；　really　consists
of　quite　different　tribes　of　animals　all　disguised　as　men。〃

In　the　dim　garden　below　the　buzz　of　talk　was　suddenly　broken
by　Miss　Hunt's　musical　instrument　banging　with　the　abruptness
of　artillery　into　a　vulgar　but　spirited　tune。

Rosamund's　voice　came　up　rich　and　strong　in　the　words　of　some　fatuous；
fashionable　coon　song

　　　　　　　　〃Darkies　sing　a　song　on　the　old　plantation；
　　　　　　　　　Sing　it　as　we　sang　it　in　days　long　since　gone　by。〃


Inglewood's　brown　eyes　softened　and　saddened　still　more　as　he　continued
his　monologue　of　resignation　to　such　a　rollicking　and　romantic　tune。
But　the　blue　eyes　of　Michael　Moon　brightened　and　hardened　with　a　light
that　Inglewood　did　not　understand。　　Many　centuries；　and　many　villages
and　valleys；　would　have　been　happier　if　Inglewood　or　Inglewood's　countrymen
had　ever　understood　that　light；　or　guessed　at　the　first　blink　that　it
was　the　battle　star　of　Ireland。

〃Nothing　can　ever　alter　it；　it's　in　the　wheels　of　the　universe；〃
went　on　Inglewood；　in　a　low　voice：　　〃some　men　are　weak　and　some　strong；
and　the　only　thing　we　can　do　is　to　know　that　we　are　weak。
I　have　been　in　love　lots　of　times；　but　I　could　not　do　anything；
for　I　remembered　my　own　fickleness。　　I　have　formed　opinions；　but　I
haven't　the　cheek　to　push　them；　because　I've　so　often　changed　them。
That's　the　upshot；　old　fellow。　　We　can't　trust　ourselves
and　we　can't　help　it。〃

Michael　had　risen　to　his　feet；　and　stood　poised　in　a　perilous　position
at　the　end　of　the　roof；　like　some　dark　statue　hung　above　its　gable。
Behind　him；　huge　clouds　of　an　almost　impossible　purple　turned　slowly
topsy…turvy　in　the　silent　anarchy　of　heaven。　　Their　gyration　made
the　dark　figure　seem　yet　dizzier。

〃Let　us。。。〃　he　said；　and　was　suddenly　silent。

〃Let　us　what？〃　asked　Arthur　Inglewood；　rising　equally　quick　though　somewhat
more　cautiously；　for　his　friend　seemed　to　find　some　difficulty　in　speech。

〃Let　us　go　and　do　some　of　these　things　we　can't　do；〃　said　Michael。

At　the　same　moment　there　burst　out　of　the　trapdoor　below　them
the　cockatoo　hair　and　flushed　face　of　Innocent　Smith；　calling　to
them　that　they　must　come　down　as　the　〃concert〃　was　in　full　swing；
and　Mr。　Moses　Gould　was　about　to　recite　〃Young　Lochinvar。〃

As　they　dropped　into　Innocent's　attic　they　nearly　tumbled　over　its
entertaining　impedimenta　again。　　Inglewood；　staring　at　the　littered　floor；
thought　instinctively　of　the　littered　floor　of　a　nursery。
He　was　therefore　the　more　moved；　and　even　shocked；　when　his　eye　fell
on　a　large　well…polished　American　revolver。

〃Hullo！〃　he　cried；　stepping　back　from　the　steely　glitter　as　men　step　back
from　a　serpent；　〃are　you　afraid　of　burglars？　or　when　and　why　do　you　deal
death　out　of　that　machine　gun？〃

〃Oh；　that！〃　said　Smith；　throwing　it　a　single　glance；　〃I　deal　life
out　of　that；〃　and　he　went　bounding　down　the　stairs。





　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Chapter　III

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　Banner　of　Beacon


All　next　day　at　Beacon　House　there　was　a　crazy　sense　that　it　was
everybody's　birthday。　　It　is　the　fashion　to　talk　of　institutions
as　cold　and　cramping　things。　　The　truth　is　that　when　people　are　in
exceptionally　high　spirits；　really　wild　with　freedom　and　invention；
they　always　must；　and　they　always　do；　create　institutions。
When　men　are　weary　they　fall　into　anarchy；　but　while　they　are　gay
and　vigorous　they　invariably　make　rules。　　This；　which　is　true　of　all
the　churches　and　republics　of　history；　is　also　true　of　the　most
trivial　parlour　game　or　the　most　unsophisticated　meadow　romp。
We　are　never　free　until　some　institution　frees　us；　and　liberty
cannot　exist　till　it　is　declared　by　authority。　　Even　the　wild
authority　of　the　harlequin　Smith　was　still　authority；　because　it
produced　everywhere　a　crop　of　crazy　regulations　and　conditions。
He　filled　every　one　with　his　own　half…lunatic　life；　but　it　was　not
expressed　in　destruction；　but　rather　in　a　dizzy　and　toppling　construction。
Each　person　with　a　hobby　found　it　turning　into　an　institution。
Rosamund's　songs　seemed　to　coalesce　into　a　kind　of　opera；
Michael's　jests　and　paragraphs　into　a　magazine。　　His　pipe　and　her
mandoline　seemed　between　them　to　make　a　sort　of　smoking　concert。
The　bashful　and　bewildered　Arthur　Inglewood　almost　struggled　against　his
own　growing　importance。　　He　felt　as　if；　in　spite　of　him；　his　photographs
were　turning　into　a　picture　gallery；　and　his　bicycle　into　a　gymkhana。
But　no　one　had　any　time　to　criticize　these　impromptu　estates　and　offices；
for　they　followed　each　other　in　wild　succession　like　the　topics
of　a　rambling　talker。

Existence　with　such　a　man　was　an　obstacle　race　made　out　of
pleasant　obstacles。　　Out　of　any　homely　and　trivial　object　he　could
drag　reels　of　exaggeration；　like　a　conjurer。　　Nothing　could
be　more　shy　and　impersonal　than　poor　Arthur's　photography。
Yet　the　preposterous　Smith　was　seen　assisting　him　eagerly　through
sunny　morning　hours；　and　an　indefensible　sequence　described
as　〃Moral　Photography〃　began　to　unroll　about　the　boarding…house。
It　was　only　a　version　of　the　old　photographer's　joke　which
produces　the　same　figure　twice　on　one　plate；　making　a　man
play　chess　with　himself；　dine　with　himself；　and　so　on。
But　these　plates　were　more　hysterical　and　ambitiousas；　〃Miss　Hunt
forgets　Herself；〃　showing　that　lady　answering　her　own　too
rapturous　recognition　with　a　most　appalling　stare　of　ignorance；
or　〃Mr。　Moon　questions　Himself；〃　in　which　Mr。　Moon　appeared　as　one
driven　to　madness　under　his　own　legal　cross…examination；　which　was
conducted　with　a　long　forefinger　and　an　air　of　ferocious　waggery。
One　highly　successful　trilogyrepresenting　Inglewood　recognizing
Inglewood；　Inglewood　prostrating　himself　before　Inglewood；
and　Inglewood　severely　beating　Inglewood　with　a　stick
Innocent　Smith　wanted　to　have　enlarged　and　put　up　in　the　hall；
like　a　sort　of　fresco；　with　the　inscription；

　　　　　　　　〃Self…reverence；　self…knowledge；　self…control
　　　　　　　　　These　three　alone　will　make　a　man　a　prig。〃

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Tennyson。


Nothing；　again；　could　be　more　prosaic　and　impenetrable　than
the　domestic　energies　of　Miss　Diana　Duke。　　But　Innocent　had　somehow
blundered　on　the　discovery　that　her　thrifty　dressmaking　went
with　a　considerable　feminine　care　for　dressthe　one　feminine　thing
that　had　never　failed　her　solitary　self…respect。　In　consequence　Smith
pestered　her　with　a　theory　（which　he　really　seemed　to　take　seriously）
that　ladies　might　combine　economy　with　magnificence　if　they　would
draw　light　chalk　patterns　on　a　plain　dress　and　then　dust　them
off　again。　　He　set　up　〃Smith's　Lightning　Dressmaking　Company；〃
with　two　screens；　a　cardboard　placard；　and　box　of　bright　soft　crayons；
and　Miss　Diana　actually　threw　him　an　abandoned　black　overall
or　working　dress　on　which　to　exercise　the　talents　of　a　modiste。
He　promptly　produced　for　her　a　garment　aflame　with　red　and　gold　sunflowers；
she　held　it　up　an　instant　to　her　shoulders；　and　looked　like　an　empress。
And　Arthur　Inglewood；　some　hours　afterwards　cleaning　his　bicycle
（with　his　usual　air　of　being　inextricably　hidden　in　it）；　glanced　up；
and　his　hot　face　grew　hotter；　for　Diana　stood　laughing　for　one
flash　in　the　doorway；　and　her　dark　robe　was　rich　with　the　green
and　purple　of　great　decorative　peacocks；　like　a　secret　garden
in　the　〃Arabian　Nights。〃　　A　pang　too　swift　to　be　named　pain
or　pleasure　went　through　his　heart　like　an　old…world　rapier。
He　remembered　how　pretty　he　thought　her　years　ago；　when　he　was
ready　to　fall　in　love　with　anybody；　but　it　was　like　remembering
a　worship　of　some　Babylonian　princess　in　some　previous　existence。
At　his　next　glimpse　of　her　（and　he　caught　himself　awaiting　it）
the　purple　and　green　chalk　was　dusted　off；　and　she　went　by　quickly
in　her　working　clothes。

As　for　Mrs。　Duke；　none　who　knew　that　matron　could　conceive　her　as
actively　resisting　this　invasion　that　had　turned　her　house　upside　down。
But　among　the　most　exact　observers　it　was　seriously　believed　that　she
liked　it。　　For　she　was　one　of　those　women　who　at　bottom　regard　all
men　as　equally　mad；　wild　animals　of　some　utterly　separate　species。
And　it　is　doubtful　if　she　really　saw　anything　more　eccentric　or
inexplicable　in　Smith's　chimney…pot　picnics　or　crimson　sunflowers
than　she　had　in　the　chemicals　of　Inglewood　or　the　sardonic　speeches
of　Moon。　　Courtesy；　on　the　other　hand；　is　a　thing　that　anybody
can　understand；　and　Smith's　manners　were　as　courteous　as　they
were　unconventional。　　She　said　he　was　〃a　real　gentleman；〃　by　which　she
simply　meant　a　kind…hearted　man；　which　is　a　very　different　thing