按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
on； sometimes one level is clear and the rest foggy and monstrous； and sometimes another。 〃Now the ruling ME； I do not doubt； is the man who has set his face to this research after aristocracy； and from the standpoint of this research it is my duty to subordinate all other considerations to this work of clearing up the conception of rule and nobility in human affairs。 This is my aristocratic self。 What I did not grasp for a long time； and which now grows clearer and clearer to me； is firstly that this aristocratic self is not the whole of me； it has absolutely nothing to do with a pain in my ear or in my heart； with a scar on my hand or my memory； and secondly that it is not altogether mine。 Whatever knowledge I have of the quality of science； whatever will I have towards right； is of it； but if from without； from the reasoning or demonstration or reproof of some one else； there comes to me clear knowledge； clarified will； that also is as it were a part of my aristocratic self coming home to me from the outside。 How often have I not found my own mind in Prothero after I have failed to find it in myself？ It is； to be paradoxical； my impersonal personality； this Being that I have in common with all scientific…spirited and aristocratic…spirited men。 This it is that I am trying to get clear from the great limitations of humanity。 When I assert a truth for the sake of truth to my own discomfort or injury； there again is this incompatibility of the aristocratic self and the accepted； confused； conglomerate self of the unanalyzed man。 The two have a separate system of obligations。 One's affections； compounded as they are in the strangest way of physical reactions and emotional associations； one's implicit pledges to particular people； one's involuntary reactions； one's pride and jealousy； all that one might call the dramatic side of one's life； may be in conflict with the definitely seen rightnesses of one's higher use。 。 。 。〃 The writing changed at this point。 〃All this seems to me at once as old as the hills and too new to be true。 This is like the conflict of the Superior Man of Confucius to control himself； it is like the Christian battle of the spirit with the flesh； it savours of that eternal wrangle between the general and the particular which is metaphysics； it was for this aristocratic self； for righteousness' sake； that men have hungered and thirsted； and on this point men have left father and mother and child and wife and followed after salvation。 This world…wide； ever… returning antagonism has filled the world in every age with hermits and lamas； recluses and teachers； devoted and segregated lives。 It is a perpetual effort to get above the simplicity of barbarism。 Whenever men have emerged from the primitive barbarism of the farm and the tribe； then straightway there has emerged this conception of a specialized life a little lifted off the earth； often； for the sake of freedom； celibate； usually disciplined； sometimes directed； having a generalized aim； beyond personal successes and bodily desires。 So it is that the philosopher； the scientifically concentrated man； has appeared； often； I admit； quite ridiculously at first； setting out upon the long journey that will end only when the philosopher is king。 。 。 。 〃At first I called my Second Limitation； Sex。 But from the outset I meant more than mere sexual desire； lust and lustful imaginings； more than personal reactions to beauty and spirited living； more even than what is called love。 On the one hand I had in minsee now that this Second Limitation as I first imagined it spreads out without any definite boundary； to include one's rivalries with old schoolfellows； for example； one's generosities to beggars and dependents； one's desire to avenge an injured friend； one's point of honour； one's regard for the good opinion of an aunt and one's concern for the health of a pet cat。 All these things may enrich； but they may also impede and limit the aristocratic scheme。 I thought for a time I would call this ill…defined and miscellaneous wilderness of limitation the Personal Life。 But at last I have decided to divide this vast territory of difficulties into two subdivisions and make one of these Indulgence； meaning thereby pleasurable indulgence of sense or feeling； and the other a great mass of self…regarding motives that will go with a little stretching under the heading of Jealousy。 I admit motives are continually playing across the boundary of these two divisions； I should find it difficult to argue a case for my classification； but in practice these two groupings have a quite definite meaning for me。 There is pride in the latter group of impulses and not in the former； the former are always a little apologetic。 Fear； Indulgence； Jealousy； these are the First Three Limitations of the soul of man。 And the greatest of these is Jealousy； because it can use pride。 Over them the Life Aristocratic； as I ous idea。 And it resignsso many things that no common Man of Spirit will resign。 Its intention transcends these things。 Over all the world it would maintain justice； order； a noble peace； and it would do this without indignation； without resentment； without mawkish tenderness or individualized enthusiasm or any queen of beauty。 It is of a cold austere quality； commanding sometimes admiration but having small hold upon the affections of men。 So that it is among its foremost distinctions that its heart is steeled。 。 。 。〃 There this odd fragment ended and White was left to resume the interrupted autobiography。
2
What moods； what passions； what nights of despair and gathering storms of anger； what sudden cruelties and amazing tendernesses are buried and hidden and implied in every love story！ What a waste is there of exquisite things！ So each spring sees a million glorious beginnings； a sunlit heaven in every opening leaf； warm perfection in every stirring egg； hope and fear and beauty beyond computation in every forest tree； and in the autumn before the snows come they have all gone； of all that incalculable abundance of life； of all that hope and adventure； excitement and deliciousness； there is scarcely more to be found than a soiled twig； a dirty seed； a dead leaf； black mould or a rotting feather。 。 。 。 White held the ten or twelve pencilled pages that told how Benham and Amanda drifted into antagonism and estrangement and as he held it he thought of the laughter and delight they must have had together； the exquisite excitements of her eye； the racing colour of her cheek； the gleams of light upon her skin； the flashes of wit between them； the sense of discovery； the high rare paths they had followed； the pools in which they had swum together。 And now it was all gone into nothingness； there was nothing left of it； nothing at all； but just those sheets of statement； and it may be； stored away in one single mind； like things forgotten in an attic； a few neglected faded memories。 。 。 。 And even those few sheets of statement were more than most love leaves behind it。 For a time White would not read them。 They lay neglected on his knee as he sat back in Benham's most comfortable chair and enjoyed an entirely beautiful melancholy。 White too had seen and mourned the spring。 Indeed； poor dear！ he had seen and mourned several springs。 。 。 。 With a sigh he took up the manuscript and read Benham's desiccated story of intellectual estrangement； and how in the end he had decided to leave his wife and go out alone upon that journey of inquiry he had been planning when first he met her。
3
Amanda had come back to England in a state of extravagantly vigorous womanhood。 Benham's illness； though it lasted only two or three weeks； gave her a sense of power and leadership for which she had been struggling instinctively ever since they came together。 For a time at Locarno he was lax…minded and indolent； and in that time she formed her bright and limited plans for London。 Benham had no plans as yet but only a sense of divergence； as though he was being pulled in opposite directions by two irresistible forces。 To her it was plain that he needed occupation； some distinguished occupation； and she could imagine nothing better for him than a political career。 She perceived he had personality； that he stood out among men so that his very silences were effective。 She loved him immensely； and she had tremendous ambitions for him and through him。 And also London； the very thought of London； filled her with appetite。 Her soul thirsted for London。 It was like some enormous juicy fruit waiting for her pretty white teeth； a place almost large enough to give her avidity the sense of enough。 She felt it waiting for her； household； servants； a carriage； shops and the jolly delight of buying and possessing things； the opera； first…nights； picture exhibitions； great dinner…parties； brilliant lunch parties； crowds seen from a point of vantage； the carriage in a long string of fine carriages with the lamplit multitude peering； Amanda in a thousand bright settings； in a thousand various dresses。 She had had love； it had been glorious； it was still glorious； but her love… making became now at times almost perfunctory in the contemplation of these approaching delights and splendours and ex