the research magnificent-第2部分

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　a　life　of　willing　and　hammering；　he　was　still　convinced　there　was　something；　something　in　the　nature　of　an　Open　Sesame；　perhaps　a　little　more　intricate　than　one　had　supposed　at　first；　a　little　more　difficult　to　secure；　but　still　in　that　nature；　which　would　suddenly　roll　open　for　mankind　the　magic　cave　of　the　universe；　that　precious　cave　at　the　heart　of　all　things；　in　which　one　must　believe。　And　then　lifelife　would　be　the　wonder　it　so　perplexingly　just　isn't。　。　。　。

2

Benham　did　not　go　about　the　world　telling　people　of　this　consuming　research。　　He　was　not　the　prophet　or　preacher　of　his　idea。　　It　was　too　living　and　intricate　and　uncertain　a　part　of　him　to　speak　freely　about。　　It　was　his　secret　self；　to　expose　it　casually　would　have　shamed　him。　　He　drew　all　sorts　of　reserves　about　him；　he　wore　his　manifest　imperfections　turned　up　about　him　like　an　overcoat　in　bitter　wind。　　He　was　content　to　be　inexplicable。　　His　thoughts　led　him　to　the　conviction　that　this　magnificent　research　could　not　be；　any　more　than　any　other　research　can　be；　a　solitary　enterprise；　but　he　delayed　expression；　in　a　mighty　writing　and　stowing　away　of　these　papers　he　found　a　relief　from　the　unpleasant　urgency　to　confess　and　explain　himself　prematurely。　　So　that　White；　though　he　knew　Benham　with　the　intimacy　of　an　old　schoolfellow　who　had　renewed　his　friendship；　and　had　shared　his　last　days　and　been　a　witness　of　his　death；　read　the　sheets　of　manuscript　often　with　surprise　and　with　a　sense　of　added　elucidation。　And；　being　also　a　trained　maker　of　books；　White　as　he　read　was　more　and　more　distressed　that　an　accumulation　so　interesting　should　be　so　entirely　unshaped　for　publication。　　〃But　this　will　never　make　a　book；〃　said　White　with　a　note　of　personal　grievance。　　His　hasty　promise　in　their　last　moments　together　had　bound　him；　it　seemed；　to　a　task　he　now　found　impossible。　　He　would　have　to　work　upon　it　tremendously；　and　even　then　he　did　not　see　how　it　could　be　done。　This　collection　of　papers　was　not　a　story；　not　an　essay；　not　a　confession；　not　a　diary。　　It　wasnothing　definable。　　It　went　into　no　conceivable　covers。　　It　was　just；　White　decided；　a　proliferation。　A　vast　proliferation。　　It　wanted　even　a　title。　　There　were　signs　that　Benham　had　intended　to　call　it　THE　ARISTOCRATIC　LIFE；　and　that　he　had　tried　at　some　other　time　the　title　of　AN　ESSAY　ON　ARISTOCRACY。　　Moreover；　it　would　seem　that　towards　the　end　he　had　been　disposed　to　drop　the　word　〃aristocratic〃　altogether；　and　adopt　some　such　phrase　as　THE　LARGER　LIFE。　　Once　it　was　LIFE　SET　FREE。　　He　had　fallen　away　more　and　more　from　nearly　everything　that　one　associates　with　aristocracyat　the　end　only　its　ideals　of　fearlessness　and　generosity　remained。　Of　all　these　titles　THE　ARISTOCRATIC　LIFE　seemed　at　first　most　like　a　clue　to　White。　　Benham's　erratic　movements；　his　sudden　impulses；　his　angers；　his　unaccountable　patiences；　his　journeys　to　strange　places；　and　his　lapses　into　what　had　seemed　to　be　pure　adventurousness；　could　all　be　put　into　system　with　that。　　Before　White　had　turned　over　three　pages　of　the　great　fascicle　of　manuscript　that　was　called　Book　Two；　he　had　found　the　word　〃Bushido〃　written　with　a　particularly　flourishing　capital　letter　and　twice　repeated。　　〃That　was　inevitable；〃　said　White　with　the　comforting　regret　one　feels　for　a　friend's　banalities。　　〃And　it　dates　。　。　。　＇unreadable＇　this　was　early。　。　。　。〃　〃Modern　aristocracy；　the　new　aristocracy；〃　he　read　presently；　〃has　still　to　be　discovered　and　understood。　　This　is　the　necessary　next　step　for　mankind。　　As　far　as　possible　I　will　discover　and　understand　it；　and　as　far　as　I　know　it　I　will　be　it。　　This　is　the　essential　disposition　of　my　mind。　　God　knows　I　have　appetites　and　sloths　and　habits　and　blindnesses；　but　so　far　as　it　is　in　my　power　to　release　myself　I　will　escape　to　this。　。　。　。〃

3

White　sat　far　into　the　night　and　for　several　nights　turning　over　papers　and　rummaging　in　untidy　drawers。　　Memories　came　back　to　him　of　his　dead　friend　and　pieced　themselves　together　with　other　memories　and　joined　on　to　scraps　in　this　writing。　　Bold　yet　convincing　guesses　began　to　leap　across　the　gaps。　　A　story　shaped　itself。　。　。　。　The　story　began　with　the　schoolfellow　he　had　known　at　Minchinghampton　School。　Benham　had　come　up　from　his　father's　preparatory　school　at　Seagate。　He　had　been　a　boy　reserved　rather　than　florid　in　his　acts　and　manners；　a　boy　with　a　pale　face；　incorrigible　hair　and　brown　eyes　that　went　dark　and　deep　with　excitement。　　Several　times　White　had　seen　him　excited；　and　when　he　was　excited　Benham　was　capable　of　tensely　daring　things。　　On　one　occasion　he　had　insisted　upon　walking　across　a　field　in　which　was　an　aggressive　bull。　　It　had　been　put　there　to　prevent　the　boys　taking　a　short　cut　to　the　swimming　place。　It　had　bellowed　tremendously　and　finally　charged　him。　　He　had　dodged　it　and　got　away；　at　the　time　it　had　seemed　an　immense　feat　to　White　and　the　others　who　were　safely　up　the　field。　　He　had　walked　to　the　fence；　risking　a　second　charge　by　his　deliberation。　　Then　he　had　sat　on　the　fence　and　declared　his　intention　of　always　crossing　the　field　so　long　as　the　bull　remained　there。　　He　had　said　this　with　white　intensity；　he　had　stopped　abruptly　in　mid…sentence；　and　then　suddenly　he　had　dropped　to　the　ground；　clutched　the　fence；　struggled　with　heaving　shoulders；　and　been　sick。　The　combination　of　apparently　stout　heart　and　manifestly　weak　stomach　had　exercised　the　Minchinghampton　intelligence　profoundly。　On　one　or　two　other　occasions　Benham　had　shown　courage　of　the　same　rather　screwed…up　sort。　　He　showed　it　not　only　in　physical　but　in　mental　things。　　A　boy　named　Prothero　set　a　fashion　of　religious　discussion　in　the　school；　and　Benham；　after　some　self…examination；　professed　an　atheistical　republicanism　rather　in　the　manner　of　Shelley。　　This　brought　him　into　open　conflict　with　Roddles；　the　History　Master。　　Roddles　had　discovered　these　theological　controversies　in　some　mysterious　way；　and　he　took　upon　himself　to　talk　at　Benham　and　Prothero。　　He　treated　them　to　the　common　misapplication　of　that　fool　who　〃hath　said　in　his　heart　there　is　no　God。〃　　He　did　not　perceive　there　was　any　difference　between　the　fool　who　says　a　thing　in　his　heart　and　one　who　says　it　in　the　dormitory。　He　revived　that　delectable　anecdote　of　the　Eton　boy　who　professed　disbelief　and　was　at　once　〃soundly　flogged〃　by　his　head　master。　〃Years　afterwards　that　boy　came　back　to　thank　〃　〃Gurr；〃　said　Prothero　softly。　　〃STEWard！〃　〃Your　turn　next；　Benham；〃　whispered　an　orthodox　controversialist。　〃Good　Lord！　　I'd　like　to　see　him；〃　said　Benham　with　a　forced　loudness　that　could　scarcely　be　ignored。　The　subsequent　controversy　led　to　an　interview　with　the　head。　　From　it　Benham　emerged　more　whitely　strung　up　than　ever。　　〃He　said　he　would　certainly　swish　me　if　I　deserved　it；　and　I　said　I　would　certainly　kill　him　if　he　did。〃　〃And　then？〃　〃He　told　me　to　go　away　and　think　it　over。　　Said　he　would　preach　about　it　next　Sunday。　。　。　。　Well；　a　swishing　isn't　a　likely　thing　anyhow。　　But　I　would。　。　。　。　　There　isn't　a　master　here　I'd　stand　a　thrashing　fromnot　one。　。　。　。　　And　because　I　choose　to　say　what　I　think！　。　。　。　　I'd　run　amuck。〃　For　a　week　or　so　the　school　was　exhilarated　by　a　vain　and　ill…　concealed　hope　that　the