the research magnificent-第6章

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　for　the　third　time　I　turned　off　to　see　what　I　could　of　the　fighting　before　Adrianople；　I　discovered　at　once　that　a　thousand　casually　selected　conscripts　will；　every　one　of　them；　do　things　together　that　not　one　of　them　could　by　any　means　be　induced　to　do　alone。　　I　saw　men　not　merely　obey　orders　that　gave　them　the　nearly　certain　prospect　of　death；　but　I　saw　them　exceeding　orders；　I　saw　men　leap　out　of　cover　for　the　mere　sake　of　defiance；　and　fall　shot　through　and　smashed　by　a　score　of　bullets。　　I　saw　a　number　of　Bulgarians　in　the　hands　of　the　surgeon；　several　quite　frightfully　wounded；　refuse　chloroform　merely　to　impress　the　English　onlooker；　some　of　their　injuries　I　could　scarcely　endure　to　see；　and　I　watched　a　line　of　infantry　men　go　on　up　a　hill　and　keep　on　quite　manifestly　cheerful　with　men　dropping　out　and　wriggling；　and　men　dropping　out　and　lying　still　until　every　other　man　was　down。　。　。　。　　Not　one　man　would　have　gone　up　that　hill　alone；　without　onlookers。　。　。　。〃　Rowe；　the　lion　hunter；　told　Benham　that　only　on　one　occasion　in　his　life　had　he　given　way　to　ungovernable　fear；　and　that　was　when　he　was　alone。　　Many　times　he　had　been　in　fearful　situations　in　the　face　of　charging　lions　and　elephants；　and　once　he　had　been　bowled　over　and　carried　some　distance　by　a　lion；　but　on　none　of　these　occasions　had　fear　demoralized　him。　　There　was　no　question　of　his　general　pluck。　But　on　one　occasion　he　was　lost　in　rocky　waterless　country　in　Somaliland。　　He　strayed　out　in　the　early　morning　while　his　camels　were　being　loaded；　followed　some　antelope　too　far；　and　lost　his　bearings。　　He　looked　up　expecting　to　see　the　sun　on　his　right　hand　and　found　it　on　his　left。　　He　became　bewildered。　　He　wandered　some　time　and　then　fired　three　signal　shots　and　got　no　reply。　　Then　losing　his　head　he　began　shouting。　　He　had　only　four　or　five　more　cartridges　and　no　water…bottle。　　His　men　were　accustomed　to　his　going　on　alone；　and　might　not　begin　to　remark　upon　his　absence　until　sundown。　。　。　。　　It　chanced；　however；　that　one　of　the　shikari　noted　the　water…bottle　he　had　left　behind　and　organized　a　hunt　for　him。　Long　before　they　found　him　he　had　passed　to　an　extremity　of　terror。　The　world　had　become　hideous　and　threatening；　the　sun　was　a　pitiless　glare；　each　rocky　ridge　he　clambered　became　more　dreadful　than　the　last；　each　new　valley　into　which　he　looked　more　hateful　and　desolate；　the　cramped　thorn　bushes　threatened　him　gauntly；　the　rocks　had　a　sinister　lustre；　and　in　every　blue　shadow　about　him　the　night　and　death　lurked　and　waited。　　There　was　no　hurry　for　them；　presently　they　would　spread　out　again　and　join　and　submerge　him；　presently　in　the　confederated　darkness　he　could　be　stalked　and　seized　and　slain。　Yes；　this　he　admitted　was　real　fear。　　He　had　cracked　his　voice；　yelling　as　a　child　yells。　　And　then　he　had　become　afraid　of　his　own　voice。　。　。　。　〃Now　this　excess　of　fear　in　isolation；　this　comfort　in　a　crowd；　in　support　and　in　a　refuge；　even　when　support　or　refuge　is　quite　illusory；　is　just　exactly　what　one　would　expect　of　fear　if　one　believed　it　to　be　an　instinct　which　has　become　a　misfit。　　In　the　ease　of　the　soldier　fear　is　so　much　a　misfit　that　instead　of　saving　him　for　the　most　part　it　destroys　him。　　Raw　soldiers　under　fire　bunch　together　and　armies　fight　in　masses；　men　are　mowed　down　in　swathes；　because　only　so　is　the　courage　of　the　common　men　sustained；　only　so　can　they　be　brave；　albeit　spread　out　and　handling　their　weapons　as　men　of　unqualified　daring　would　handle　them　they　would　be　infinitely　safer　and　more　effective。　。　。　。　〃And　all　of　us；　it　may　be；　are　restrained　by　this　misfit　fear　from　a　thousand　bold　successful　gestures　of　mind　and　body；　we　are　held　back　from　the　attainment　of　mighty　securities　in　pitiful　temporary　shelters　that　are　perhaps　in　the　end　no　better　than　traps。　。　。　。〃　From　such　considerations　Benham　went　on　to　speculate　how　far　the　crowd　can　be　replaced　in　a　man's　imagination；　how　far　some　substitute　for　that　social　backing　can　be　made　to　serve　the　same　purpose　in　neutralizing　fear。　　He　wrote　with　the　calm　of　a　man　who　weighs　the　probabilities　of　a　riddle；　and　with　the　zeal　of　a　man　lost　to　every　material　consideration。　　His　writing；　it　seemed　to　White；　had　something　of　the　enthusiastic　whiteness　of　his　face；　the　enthusiastic　brightness　of　his　eyes。　　We　can　no　more　banish　fear　from　our　being　at　present　than　we　can　carve　out　the　fleshy　pillars　of　the　heart　or　the　pineal　gland　in　the　brain。　　It　is　deep　in　our　inheritance。　　As　deep　as　hunger。　　And　just　as　we　have　to　satisfy　hunger　in　order　that　it　should　leave　us　free；　so　we　have　to　satisfy　the　unconquerable　importunity　of　fear。　　We　have　to　reassure　our　faltering　instincts。　　There　must　be　something　to　take　the　place　of　lair　and　familiars；　something　not　ourselves　but　general；　that　we　must　carry　with　us　into　the　lonely　places。　　For　it　is　true　that　man　has　now　not　only　to　learn　to　fight　in　open　order　instead　of　in　a　phalanx；　but　he　has　to　think　and　plan　and　act　in　open　order；　to　live　in　open　order。　。　。　。　Then　with　one　of　his　abrupt　transitions　Benham　had　written；　〃This　brings　me　to　God。〃　〃The　devil　it　does！〃　said　White；　roused　to　a　keener　attention。　〃By　no　feat　of　intention　can　we　achieve　courage　in　loneliness　so　long　as　we　feel　indeed　alone。　　An　isolated　man；　an　egoist；　an　Epicurean　man；　will　always　fail　himself　in　the　solitary　place。　There　must　be　something　more　with　us　to　sustain　us　against　this　vast　universe　than　the　spark　of　life　that　began　yesterday　and　must　be　extinguished　to…morrow。　　There　can　be　no　courage　beyond　social　courage；　the　sustaining　confidence　of　the　herd；　until　there　is　in　us　the　sense　of　God。　　But　God　is　a　word　that　covers　a　multitude　of　meanings。　　When　I　was　a　boy　I　was　a　passionate　atheist；　I　defied　God；　and　so　far　as　God　is　the　mere　sanction　of　social　traditions　and　pressures；　a　mere　dressing　up　of　the　crowd's　will　in　canonicals；　I　do　still　deny　him　and　repudiate　him。　　That　God　I　heard　of　first　from　my　nursemaid；　and　in　very　truth　he　is　the　proper　God　of　all　the　nursemaids　of　mankind。　　But　there　is　another　God　than　that　God　of　obedience；　God　the　immortal　adventurer　in　me；　God　who　calls　men　from　home　and　country；　God　scourged　and　crowned　with　thorns；　who　rose　in　a　nail…pierced　body　out　of　death　and　came　not　to　bring　peace　but　a　sword。〃　With　something　bordering　upon　intellectual　consternation；　White；　who　was　a　decent　self…respecting　sceptic；　read　these　last　clamberings　of　Benham's　spirit。　　They　were　written　in　pencil；　they　were　unfinished　when　he　died。　　（Surely　the　man　was　not　a　Christian！）　〃You　may　be　heedless　of　death　and　suffering　because　you　think　you　cannot　suffer　and　die；　or　you　may　be　heedless　of　death　and　pain　because　you　have　identified　your　life　with　the　honour　of　mankind　and　the　insatiable　adventurousness　of　man's　imagination；　so　that　the　possible　death　is　negligible　and　the　possible　achievement　altogether　outweighs　it。〃　。　。　。　White　shook　his　head　over　these　pencilled　fragments。　He　was　a　member　of　the　Rationalist　Press　Association；　and　he　had　always　taken　it　for　granted　that　Benham　was　an　orthodox　unbeliever。　But　this　was　hopelessly　unsound；　heresy；　perilous　stuff；　almost；　it　seemed　to　him；　a　posthumous　betrayal。　。　。　。

11

One　night　when　he　was　in　India　the　spirit　of　adventure　came　upon　Benham。　　He　had　gone　with　Kepple；　of　the　forestry　department；　into　the　jungle　country　in　the　hills　above　the　Tapti。　　He　had　been　very　anxious　to　see　something　of　that　aspect　of　Indian　life；　and　he　had　snatched　at　the　chance　Kepple　had　given　him。　　But　they　had　scarcely　started　before　the　expedition　was　brought　to　an　end　by　an　accident；　Kepple　was　thrown　by　a　pony　and　his　ankle　broken。　　He　and　Benham　bandaged　it　as　well　as　they　could；　and　a　litter　was　sent　for；　and　meanwhile　they　had　to　wait　in　the　camp　that　was　to　have　been　the　centre　of　their　jungle　raids。　　The　second　day　of　this　waiting　was　worse　for　Kepple　than　the　first；　and　he　suffered　much　from　the　pressure　of　this　amateurish　bandaging。　　In　the　evening　Benham　got　cool　water　from　the　well　and　rearranged　things　better；　the　two　men　dined　and　smoked　under　their　thatched　roof　beneath　the　big　banyan；　and　then　Kepple；　tired　out　by　his　day　of　pain；　was　carried　to　his　tent。　　Presently　he　fell　asleep　and　Benham　was　left　to　himself。　Now　that　the　heat　was　over　he　found　himself　quite　indisposed　to　sleep。　　He　felt　full　of　life　and　anxious　for　happenings。　He　went　back　and　sat　down　upon　the　iron　bedstead　beneath　the　banyan；　that　Kepple　had　lain　upon　through　the　day；　and　he　watched　the　soft　immensity　of　the　Indian　night　swallow　up　the　last　lingering　colours　of　the　world。　　It　left　the　outlines；　it　obliterated　nothing；　but　it　stripped　off　the　superficial　reality　of　things。　　The　moon　was　full　and　high　overhead；　and　the　light　had　not　so　much　gone　as　changed　from　definition　and　the　blazing　glitter　and　reflections　of　solidity　to　a　translucent　and　unsubstantial　clearness。　　The　jungle　that　bordered　the　little　encampment　north；　south；　and　west　seemed　to　have　crept　a　little　nearer；　enriched　itself　with　blackness；　taken　to　itself　voices。　（Surely　it　had　been　silent　during　the　day。）　A　warm；　faintly…scented　breeze　just　stirred　the　dead　grass　and　the　leaves。　　In　the　day　the　air　had　been　still。　Immediately　after　the　sunset　there　had　been　a　great　crying　of　peacock