the new machiavelli-第13部分

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4



But　the　other　experience　was　still　more　cardinal。　　It　was　the　first　

clear　intimation　of　a　new　motif　in　life；　the　sex　motif；　that　was　to　

rise　and　increase　and　accumulate　power　and　enrichment　and　interweave　

with　and　at　last　dominate　all　my　life。



It　was　when　I　was　nearly　fifteen　this　happened。　　It　is　inseparably　

connected　in　my　mind　with　the　dusk　of　warm　September　evenings。　　I　

never　met　the　girl　I　loved　by　daylight；　and　I　have　forgotten　her　

name。　　It　was　some　insignificant　name。



Yet　the　peculiar　quality　of　the　adventure　keeps　it　shining　darkly　

like　some　deep　coloured　gem　in　the　common　setting　of　my　memories。　　

It　came　as　something　new　and　strange；　something　that　did　not　join　on　

to　anything　else　in　my　life　or　connect　with　any　of　my　thoughts　or　

beliefs　or　habits；　it　was　a　wonder；　a　mystery；　a　discovery　about　

myself；　a　discovery　about　the　whole　world。　　Only　in　after　years　did　

sexual　feeling　lose　that　isolation　and　spread　itself　out　to　

illuminate　and　pervade　and　at　last　possess　the　whole　broad　vision　of　

life。



It　was　in　that　phase　of　an　urban　youth's　development；　the　phase　of　

the　cheap　cigarette；　that　this　thing　happened。　　One　evening　I　came　

by　chance　on　a　number　of　young　people　promenading　by　the　light　of　a　

row　of　shops　towards　Beckington；　and；　with　all　the　glory　of　a　

glowing　cigarette　between　my　lips；　I　joined　their　strolling　number。　　

These　twilight　parades　of　young　people；　youngsters　chiefly　of　the　

lower　middle…class；　are　one　of　the　odd　social　developments　of　the　

great　suburban　growthsunkindly　critics；　blind　to　the　inner　

meanings　of　things；　call　them；　I　believe；　Monkeys'　Paradesthe　shop　

apprentices；　the　young　work　girls；　the　boy　clerks　and　so　forth；　

stirred　by　mysterious　intimations；　spend　their　first…earned　money　

upon　collars　and　ties；　chiffon　hats；　smart　lace　collars；　walking…

sticks；　sunshades　or　cigarettes；　and　come　valiantly　into　the　vague　

transfiguring　mingling　of　gaslight　and　evening；　to　walk　up　and　down；　

to　eye　meaningly；　even　to　accost　and　make　friends。　　It　is　a　queer　

instinctive　revolt　from　the　narrow　limited　friendless　homes　in　which　

so　many　find　themselves；　a　going　out　towards　something；　romance　if　

you　will；　beauty；　that　has　suddenly　become　a　needa　need　that　

hitherto　has　lain　dormant　and　unsuspected。　　They　promenade。



Vulgar！it　is　as　vulgar　as　the　spirit　that　calls　the　moth　abroad　in　

the　evening　and　lights　the　body　of　the　glow…worm　in　the　night。　　I　

made　my　way　through　the　throng；　a　little　contemptuously　as　became　a　

public　schoolboy；　my　hands　in　my　pocketsnone　of　your　cheap　canes　

for　me！and　very　careful　of　the　lie　of　my　cigarette　upon　my　lips。　　

And　two　girls　passed　me；　one　a　little　taller　than　the　other；　with　

dim　warm…tinted　faces　under　clouds　of　dark　hair　and　with　dark　eyes　

like　pools　reflecting　stars。



I　half　turned；　and　the　shorter　one　glanced　back　at　me　over　her　

shoulderI　could　draw　you　now　the　pose　of　her　cheek　and　neck　and　

shoulderand　instantly　I　was　as　passionately　in　love　with　the　girl　

as　I　have　ever　been　before　or　since；　as　any　man　ever　was　with　any　

woman。　　I　turned　about　and　followed　them；　I　flung　away　my　cigarette　

ostentatiously　and　lifted　my　school　cap　and　spoke　to　them。



The　girl　answered　shyly　with　her　dark　eyes　on　my　face。　　What　I　said　

and　what　she　said　I　cannot　remember；　but　I　have　little　doubt　it　was　

something　absolutely　vapid。　　It　really　did　not　matter；　the　thing　was　

we　had　met。　　I　felt　as　I　think　a　new…hatched　moth　must　feel　when　

suddenly　its　urgent　headlong　searching　brings　it　in　tremulous　

amazement　upon　its　mate。



We　met；　covered　from　each　other；　with　all　the　nets　of　civilisation　

keeping　us　apart。　　We　walked　side　by　side。



It　led　to　scarcely　more　than　that。　　I　think　we　met　four　or　five　

times　altogether；　and　always　with　her　nearly　silent　elder　sister　on　

the　other　side　of　her。　　We　walked　on　the　last　two　occasions　arm　in　

arm；　furtively　caressing　each　other's　hands；　we　went　away　from　the　

glare　of　the　shops　into　the　quiet　roads　of　villadom；　and　there　we　

whispered　instead　of　talking　and　looked　closely　into　one　another's　

warm　and　shaded　face。　　〃Dear；〃　I　whispered　very　daringly；　and　she　

answered；　〃Dear！〃　　We　had　a　vague　sense　that　we　wanted　more　of　that　

quality　of　intimacy　and　more。　　We　wanted　each　other　as　one　wants　

beautiful　music　again　or　to　breathe　again　the　scent　of　flowers。



And　that　is　all　there　was　between　us。　　The　events　are　nothing；　the　

thing　that　matters　is　the　way　in　which　this　experience　stabbed　

through　the　common　stuff　of　life　and　left　it　pierced；　with　a　light；　

with　a　huge　new　interest　shining　through　the　rent。



When　I　think　of　it　I　can　recall　even　now　the　warm　mystery　of　her　

face；　her　lips　a　little　apart；　lips　that　I　never　kissed；　her　soft　

shadowed　throat；　and　I　feel　again　the　sensuous　stir　of　her　

proximity。　。　。　。



Those　two　girls　never　told　me　their　surname　nor　let　me　approach　

their　house。　　They　made　me　leave　them　at　the　corner　of　a　road　of　

small　houses　near　Penge　Station。　　And　quite　abruptly；　without　any　

intimation；　they　vanished　and　came　to　the　meeting　place　no　more；　

they　vanished　as　a　moth　goes　out　of　a　window　into　the　night；　and　

left　me　possessed　of　an　intolerable　want。　。　。　。



The　affair　pervaded　my　existence　for　many　weeks。　　I　could　not　do　my　

work　and　I　could　not　rest　at　home。　　Night　after　night　I　promenaded　

up　and　down　that　Monkeys'　Parade　full　of　an　unappeasable　desire；　

with　a　thwarted　sense　of　something　just　begun　that　ought　to　have　

gone　on。　　I　went　backwards　and　forwards　on　the　way　to　the　vanishing　

place；　and　at　last　explored　the　forbidden　road　that　had　swallowed　

them　up。　　But　I　never　saw　her　again；　except　that　later　she　came　to　

me；　my　symbol　of　womanhood；　in　dreams。　　How　my　blood　was　stirred！　　I　

lay　awake　of　nights　whispering　in　the　darkness　for　her。　　I　prayed　

for　her。



Indeed　that　girl；　who　probably　forgot　the　last　vestiges　of　me　when　

her　first　real　kiss　came　to　her；　ruled　and　haunted　me；　gave　a　Queen　

to　my　imagination　and　a　texture　to　all　my　desires　until　I　became　a　

man。



I　generalised　her　at　last。　　I　suddenly　discovered　that　poetry　was　

about　her　and　that　she　was　the　key　to　all　that　had　hitherto　seemed　

nonsense　about　love。　　I　took　to　reading　novels；　and　if　the　heroine　

could　not　possibly　be　like　her；　dusky　and　warm　and　starlike；　I　put　

the　book　aside。　。　。　。



I　hesitate　and　add　here　one　other　confession。　　I　want　to　tell　this　

thing　because　it　seems　to　me　we　are　altogether　too　restrained　and　

secretive　about　such　matters。　　The　cardinal　thing　in　life　sneaks　in　

to　us　darkly　and　shamefully　like　a　thief　in　the　night。



One　day　during　my　Cambridge　daysit　must　have　been　in　my　first　year　

before　I　knew　HatherleighI　saw　in　a　print…shop　window　near　the　

Strand　an　engraving　of　a　girl　that　reminded　me　sharply　of　Penge　and　

its　dusky　encounter。　　It　was　just　a　half　length　of　a　bare…

shouldered；　bare…breasted　Oriental　with　arms　akimbo；　smiling　

faintly。　　I　looked　at　it；　went　my　way；　then　turned　back　and　bought　

it。　　I　felt　I　must　have　it。　　The　odd　thing　is　that　I　was　more　than　a　

little　shamefaced　about　it。　　I　did　not　have　it　framed　and　hung　in　my　

room　open　to　the　criticism　of　my　friends；　but　I　kept　it　in　the　

drawer　of　my　writing…table。　　And　I　kept　that　drawer　locked　for　a　

year。　　It　speedily　merged　with　and　became　identified　with　the　dark　

girl　of　Penge。　　That　engraving　became　in　a　way　my　mistress。　　Often　

when　I　had　sported　my　oak　and　was　supposed　to　be　reading；　I　was　

sitting　with　it　before　me。



Obeying　some　instinct　I　kept　the　thing　very　secret　indeed。　　For　a　

time　nobody　suspected　what　was　locked　in　my　drawer　nor　what　was　

locked　in　me。　　I　seemed　as　sexless　as　my　world　required。





5



These　things　stabbed　through　my　life；　intimations　of　things　above　

and　below　and　before　me。　　They　had　an　air　of　being　no　more　than　

incidents；　interruptions。



The　broad　substance　of　my　existence　at　this　time　was　the　City　

Merchants　School。　　Home　was　a　place　where　I　slept　and　read；　and　the　

mooning　explorations　of　the　south…eastern　postal　district　which　

occupied　the　restless　evenings　and　spare　days　of　my　vacations　mere　

interstices；　giving　glimpses　of　enigmatical　lights　and　distant　

spaces　between　the　woven　threads　of　a　school…boy's　career。　　School　

life　began　for　me　every　morning　at　Herne　Hill；　for　there　I　was　

joined　by　three　or　four　other　boys　and　the　rest　of　the　way　we　went　

together。　　Most　of　the　streets　and　roads　we　traversed　in　our　

morning's　walk　from　Victoria　are　still　intact；　the　storms　of　

rebuilding　that　have　submerged　so　much　of　my　boyhood's　London　have　

passed　and　left　them；　and　I　have　revived　the　impression　of　them　

again　and　again　in　recent　years　as　I　have　clattered　dinnerward　in　a　

hansom　or　hummed　along　in　a　motor　cab　to　some　engagement。　　The　main　

gate　still　looks　out　with　the　same　expression　of　ancient　well…

proportioned　kindline