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too far； had mocked my own littleness by presumption； had given the
uttermost dear reality of life for a theoriser's dream。
All through that wandering agony of mine that night a dozen threads
of thought interwove； now I was a soul speaking in protest to God
against a task too cold and high for it； and now I was an angry man；
scorned and pointed upon； who had let life cheat him of the ultimate
pride of his soul。 Now I was the fool of ambition； who opened his
box of gold to find blank emptiness； and now I was a spinner of
flimsy thoughts； whose web tore to rags at a touch。 I realised for
the first time how much I had come to depend upon the mind and faith
of Isabel； how she had confirmed me and sustained me； how little
strength I had to go on with our purposes now that she had vanished
from my life。 She had been the incarnation of those great
abstractions； the saving reality； the voice that answered back。
There was no support that night in the things that had been。 We
were alone together on the cliff for ever more！that was very
pretty in its way； but it had no truth whatever that could help me
now； no ounce of sustaining value。 I wanted Isabel that night； no
sentiment or memory of her； but Isabel alive；to talk to me； to
touch me； to hold me together。 I wanted unendurably the dusky
gentleness of her presence； the consolation of her voice。
We were alone together on the cliff！ I startled a passing cabman
into interest by laughing aloud at that magnificent and
characteristic sentimentality。 What a lie it was； and how
satisfying it had been！ That was just where we shouldn't remain。
We of all people had no distinction from that humanity whose lot is
to forget。 We should go out to other interests； new experiences；
new demands。 That tall and intricate fabric of ambitious
understandings we had built up together in our intimacy would be the
first to go； and last perhaps to endure with us would be a few gross
memories of sights and sounds； and trivial incidental excitements。 。 。 。
I had a curious feeling that night that I had lost touch with life
for a long time； and had now been reminded of its quality。 That
infernal little don's parody of my ruling phrase； 〃Hate and coarse
thinking；〃 stuck in my thoughts like a poisoned dart； a centre of
inflammation。 Just as a man who is debilitated has no longer the
vitality to resist an infection； so my mind； slackened by the crisis
of my separation from Isabel； could find no resistance to his
emphatic suggestion。 It seemed to me that what he had said was
overpoweringly true； not only of contemporary life； but of all
possible human life。 Love is the rare thing； the treasured thing；
you lock it away jealously and watch； and well you may； hate and
aggression and force keep the streets and rule the world。 And fine
thinking is； in the rough issues of life； weak thinking； is a
balancing indecisive process； discovers with disloyal impartiality a
justice and a defect on each disputing side。 〃Good honest men；〃 as
Dayton calls them； rule the world； with a way of thinking out
decisions like shooting cartloads of bricks； and with a steadfast
pleasure in hostility。 Dayton liked to call his antagonists
〃blaggards and scoundrels〃it justified his oppositionthe Lords
were 〃scoundrels；〃 all people richer than be were 〃scoundrels；〃 all
Socialists； all troublesome poor people； he liked to think of jails
and justice being done。 His public spirit was saturated with the
sombre joys of conflict and the pleasant thought of condign
punishment for all recalcitrant souls。 That was the way of it； I
perceived。 That had survival value； as the biologists say。 He was
fool enough in politics to be a consistent and happy politician。 。 。 。
Hate and coarse thinking； how the infernal truth of the phrase beat
me down that night！ I couldn't remember that I had known this all
along； and that it did not really matter in the slightest degree。 I
had worked it all out long ago in other terms； when I had seen how
all parties stood for interests inevitably； and how the purpose in
life achieves itself； if it achieves itself at all； as a bye product
of the war of individuals and classes。 Hadn't I always known that
science and philosophy elaborate themselves in spite of all the
passion and narrowness of men； in spite of the vanities and weakness
of their servants； in spite of all the heated disorder of
contemporary things？ Wasn't it my own phrase to speak of 〃that
greater mind in men； in which we are but moments and transitorily
lit cells？〃 Hadn't I known that the spirit of man still speaks like
a thing that struggles out of mud and slime； and that the mere
effort to speak means choking and disaster？ Hadn't I known that we
who think without fear and speak without discretion will not come to
our own for the next two thousand years？
It was the last was most forgotten of all that faith mislaid。
Before mankind； in my vision that night； stretched new centuries of
confusion； vast stupid wars； hastily conceived laws； foolish
temporary triumphs of order； lapses； set…backs； despairs；
catastrophes； new beginnings； a multitudinous wilderness of time； a
nigh plotless drama of wrong…headed energies。 In order to assuage
my parting from Isabel we had set ourselves to imagine great rewards
for our separation； great personal rewards； we had promised
ourselves success visible and shining in our lives。 To console
ourselves in our separation we had made out of the BLUE WEEKLY and
our young Tory movement preposterously enormous things…as though
those poor fertilising touches at the soil were indeed the
germinating seeds of the millennium； as though a million lives such
as ours had not to contribute before the beginning of the beginning。
That poor pretence had failed。 That magnificent proposition
shrivelled to nothing in the black loneliness of that night。
I saw that there were to be no such compensations。 So far as my
real services to mankind were concerned I had to live an
unrecognised and unrewarded life。 If I made successes it would be
by the way。 Our separation would alter nothing of that。 My scandal
would cling to me now for all my life； a thing affecting
relationships； embarrassing and hampering my spirit。 I should
follow the common lot of those who live by the imagination； and
follow it now in infinite loneliness of soul； the one good
comforter； the one effectual familiar； was lost to me for ever； I
should do good and evil together； no one caring to understand； I
should produce much weary work； much bad…spirited work； much
absolute evil； the good in me would be too often ill…expressed and
missed or misinterpreted。 In the end I might leave one gleaming
flake or so amidst the slag heaps for a moment of postmortem
sympathy。 I was afraid beyond measure of my derelict self。 Because
I believed with all my soul in love and fine thinking that did not
mean that I should necessarily either love steadfastly or think
finely。 I remember how I fell talking to GodI think I talked out
loud。 〃Why do I care for these things？〃 I cried； 〃when I can do so
little！ Why am I apart from the jolly thoughtless fighting life of
men？ These dreams fade to nothingness； and leave me bare！〃
I scolded。 〃Why don't you speak to a man； show yourself？ I thought
I had a gleam of you in Isabel；and then you take her away。 Do you
really think I can carry on this game alone； doing your work in
darkness and silence； living in muddled conflict； half living； half
dying？〃
Grotesque analogies arose in my mind。 I discovered a strange
parallelism between my now tattered phrase of 〃Love and fine
thinking〃 and the 〃Love and the Word〃 of Christian thought。 Was it
possible the Christian propaganda had at the outset meant just that
system of attitudes I had been feeling my way towards from the very
beginning of my life？ Had I spent a lifetime making my way back to
Christ？ It mocks humanity to think how Christ has been overlaid。 I
went along now； recalling long…neglected phrases and sentences； I
had a new vision of that great central figure preaching love with
hate and coarse thinking even in the disciples about Him； rising to
a tidal wave at last in that clamour for Barabbas； and the public
satisfaction in His fate。 。 。 。
It's curious to think that hopeless love and a noisy disordered
dinner should lead a man to these speculations； but they did。 〃He
DID mean that！〃 I said； and suddenly thought of what a bludgeon
they'd made of His Christianity。 Athwart that perplexing； patient
enigma sitting inaudibly among publicans and sinners； danced and
gibbered a long procession of the champions of orthodoxy。 〃He
wasn't human；〃 I said； and remembered that last despairing cry； 〃My
God！ My God！ why hast Thou forsaken Me？〃