the research magnificent-第55部分

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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　mou