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！
Altiora's highest praise was 〃thoroughly efficient。〃 We were to be
a 〃thoroughly efficient〃 political couple of the 〃new type。〃 She
explained us to herself and Oscar； she explained us to ourselves；
she explained us to the people who came to her dinners and
afternoons until the world was highly charged with explanation and
expectation； and the proposal that I should be the Liberal candidate
for the Kinghamstead Division seemed the most natural development in
the world。
I was full of the ideal of hard restrained living and relentless
activity； and throughout a beautiful November at Venice； where
chiefly we spent our honeymoon； we turned over and over again and
discussed in every aspect our conception of a life tremendously
focussed upon the ideal of social service。
Most clearly there stands out a picture of ourselves talking in a
gondola on our way to Torcella。 Far away behind us the smoke of
Murano forms a black stain upon an immense shining prospect of
smooth water； water as unruffled and luminous as the sky above； a
mirror on which rows of posts and distant black high…stemmed； swan…
necked boats with their minutely clear swinging gondoliers； float
aerially。 Remote and low before us rises the little tower of our
destination。 Our men swing together and their oars swirl leisurely
through the water； hump back in the rowlocks； splash sharply and go
swishing back again。 Margaret lies back on cushions； with her face
shaded by a holland parasol； and I sit up beside her。
〃You see；〃 I say； and in spite of Margaret's note of perfect
acquiescence I feel myself reasoning against an indefinable
antagonism； 〃it is so easy to fall into a slack way with life。
There may seem to be something priggish in a meticulous discipline；
but otherwise it is so easy to slip into indolent habitsand to be
distracted from one's purpose。 The country； the world； wants men to
serve its constructive needs； to work out and carry out plans。 For
a man who has to make a living the enemy is immediate necessity； for
people like ourselves it'sit's the constant small opportunity of
agreeable things。〃
〃Frittering away；〃 she says； 〃time and strength。〃
〃That is what I feel。 It's so pleasant to pretend one is simply
modest； it looks so foolish at times to take one's self too
seriously。 We've GOT to take ourselves seriously。〃
She endorses my words with her eyes。
〃I feel I can do great things with life。〃
〃I KNOW you can。〃
〃But that's only to be done by concentrating one's life upon one
main end。 We have to plan our days； to make everything subserve our
scheme。〃
〃I feel；〃 she answers softly； 〃we ought to giveevery hour。〃
Her face becomes dreamy。 〃I WANT to give every hour；〃 she adds。
2
That holiday in Venice is set in my memory like a little artificial
lake in uneven confused country； as something very bright and
skylike； and discontinuous with all about it。 The faded quality of
the very sunshine of that season； the mellow discoloured palaces and
places； the huge； time…ripened paintings of departed splendours； the
whispering； nearly noiseless passage of hearse…black gondolas； for
the horrible steam launch had not yet ruined Venice； the stilled
magnificences of the depopulated lagoons； the universal autumn； made
me feel altogether in recess from the teeming uproars of reality。
There was not a dozen people all told； no Americans and scarcely any
English； to dine in the big cavern of a dining…room； with its vistas
of separate tables； its distempered walls and its swathed
chandeliers。 We went about seeing beautiful things； accepting
beauty on every hand； and taking it for granted that all was well
with ourselves and the world。 It was ten days or a fortnight before
I became fretful and anxious for action； a long tranquillity for
such a temperament as mine。
Our pleasures were curiously impersonal； a succession of shared
aesthetic appreciation threads all that time。 Our honeymoon was no
exultant coming together； no mutual shout of 〃YOU！〃 We were almost
shy with one another； and felt the relief of even a picture to help
us out。 It was entirely in my conception of things that I should be
very watchful not to shock or distress Margaret or press the
sensuous note。 Our love…making had much of the tepid smoothness of
the lagoons。 We talked in delicate innuendo of what should be
glorious freedoms。 Margaret had missed Verona and Venice in her
previous Italian journeyfear of the mosquito had driven her mother
across Italy to the westward routeand now she could fill up her
gaps and see the Titians and Paul Veroneses she already knew in
colourless photographs； the Carpaccios； （the St。 George series
delighted her beyond measure；） the Basaitis and that great statue of
Bartolomeo Colleoni that Ruskin praised。
But since I am not a man to look at pictures and architectural
effects day after day； I did watch Margaret very closely and store a
thousand memories of her。 I can see her now； her long body drooping
a little forward； her sweet face upraised to some discovered
familiar masterpiece and shining with a delicate enthusiasm。 I can
hear again the soft cadences of her voice murmuring commonplace
comments； for she had no gift of expressing the shapeless
satisfaction these things gave her。
Margaret； I perceived； was a cultivated person； the first cultivated
person with whom I had ever come into close contact。 She was
cultivated and moral； and I； I now realise； was never either of
these things。 She was passive； and I am active。 She did not simply
and naturally look for beauty but she had been incited to look for
it at school； and took perhaps a keener interest in books and
lectures and all the organisation of beautiful things than she did
in beauty itself； she found much of her delight in being guided to
it。 Now a thing ceases to be beautiful to me when some finger points
me out its merits。 Beauty is the salt of life； but I take my beauty
as a wild beast gets its salt； as a constituent of the meal。 。 。 。
And besides； there was that between us that should have seemed more
beautiful than any picture。 。 。 。
So we went about Venice tracking down pictures and spiral staircases
and such…like things； and my brains were busy all the time with such
things as a comparison of Venice and its nearest modern equivalent；
New York； with the elaboration of schemes of action when we returned
to London； with the development of a theory of Margaret。
Our marriage had done this much at least； that it had fused and
destroyed those two independent ways of thinking about her that had
gone on in my mind hitherto。 Suddenly she had become very near to
me； and a very big thing； a sort of comprehensive generalisation
behind a thousand questions； like the sky or England。 The judgments
and understandings that had worked when she was； so to speak； miles
away from my life； had now to be altogether revised。 Trifling
things began to matter enormously； that she had a weak and easily
fatigued back； for example； or that when she knitted her brows and
stammered a little in talking； it didn't really mean that an
exquisite significance struggled for utterance。
We visited pictures in the mornings chiefly。 In the afternoon；
unless we were making a day…long excursion in a gondola； Margaret
would rest for an hour while I prowled about in search of English
newspapers； and then we would go to tea in the Piazza San Marco and
watch the drift of people feeding the pigeons and going into the
little doors beneath the sunlit arches and domes of Saint Mark's。
Then perhaps we would stroll on the Piazzetta； or go out into the
sunset in a gondola。 Margaret became very interested in the shops
that abound under the colonnades and decided at last to make an
extensive purchase of table glass。 〃These things；〃 she said； are
quite beautiful； and far cheaper than anything but the most ordinary
looking English ware。〃 I was interested in her idea； and a good
deal charmed by the delightful qualities of tinted shape； slender
handle and twisted stem。 I suggested we should get not simply
tumblers and wineglasses but bedroom waterbottles； fruit… and sweet…
dishes； water…jugs； and in the end we made quite a business…like
afternoon of it。
I was beginning now to long quite definitely for events。 Energy was
accumulating in me； and worrying me for an outlet。 I found the
TIMES and the DAILY TELEGRAPH and the other papers I managed to get
hold of； more and more stimulating。 I nearly wrote to the former
paper one day in answer to a letter by Lord GrimthorpeI forget now
upon what point。 I chafed secretly against this life of tranquil
appreciations more and more。 I found my attitudes of restrained and
delicate affection for Marga