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seemed to be fed by a spring of inexhaustible energy。
〃No； you're not late。〃
〃You're in time to answer a question；〃 said Mr。 Scogan。 〃We were
arguing whether Amour were a serious matter or no。 What do you think？
Is it serious？〃
〃Serious？〃 echoed Ivor。 〃Most certainly。〃
〃I told you so；〃 cried Mary triumphantly。
〃But in what sense serious？〃 Mr。 Scogan asked。
〃I mean as an occupation。 One can go on with it without ever getting
bored。〃
〃I see；〃 said Mr。 Scogan。 〃Perfectly。〃
〃One can occupy oneself with it；〃 Ivor continued； 〃always and
everywhere。 Women are always wonderfully the same。 Shapes vary a
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little； that's all。 In Spain〃with his free hand he described a series of
ample curves〃one can't pass them on the stairs。 In England〃he put the
tip of his forefinger against the tip of his thumb and； lowering his hand；
drew out this circle into an imaginary cylinder〃In England they're
tubular。 But their sentiments are always the same。 At least； I've always
found it so。〃
〃I'm delighted to hear it；〃 said Mr。 Scogan。
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CHAPTER XVI。
The ladies had left the room and the port was circulating。 Mr。 Scogan
filled his glass； passed on the decanter； and； leaning back in his chair；
looked about him for a moment in silence。 The conversation rippled idly
round him； but he disregarded it； he was smiling at some private joke。
Gombauld noticed his smile。
〃What's amusing you？〃 he asked。
〃I was just looking at you all； sitting round this table；〃 said Mr。
Scogan。
〃Are we as comic as all that？〃
〃Not at all；〃 Mr。 Scogan answered politely。 〃I was merely amused by
my own speculations。〃
〃And what were they？〃
〃The idlest； the most academic of speculations。 I was looking at you
one by one and trying to imagine which of the first six Caesars you would
each resemble； if you were given the opportunity of behaving like a
Caesar。 The Caesars are one of my touchstones；〃 Mr。 Scogan explained。
〃They are characters functioning； so to speak； in the void。 They are
human beings developed to their logical conclusions。 Hence their
unequalled value as a touchstone； a standard。 When I meet someone for
the first time； I ask myself this question： Given the Caesarean
environment； which of the Caesars would this person resemble Julius；
Augustus； Tiberius； Caligula； Claudius； Nero？ I take each trait of
character； each mental and emotional bias； each little oddity； and magnify
them a thousand times。 The resulting image gives me his Caesarean
formula。〃
〃And which of the Caesars do you resemble？〃 asked Gombauld。
〃I am potentially all of them；〃 Mr。 Scogan replied； 〃allwith the
possible exception of Claudius； who was much too stupid to be a
development of anything in my character。 The seeds of Julius's courage
and compelling energy； of Augustus's prudence； of the libidinousness and
cruelty of Tiberius； of Caligula's folly； of Nero's artistic genius and
enormous vanity； are all within me。 Given the opportunities； I might have
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been something fabulous。 But circumstances were against me。 I was
born and brought up in a country rectory； I passed my youth doing a great
deal of utterly senseless hard work for a very little money。 The result is
that now； in middle age； I am the poor thing that I am。 But perhaps it is
as well。 Perhaps； too； it's as well that Denis hasn't been permitted to
flower into a little Nero； and that Ivor remains only potentially a Caligula。
Yes； it's better so； no doubt。 But it would have been more amusing； as a
spectacle； if they had had the chance to develop； untrammelled； the full
horror of their potentialities。 It would have been pleasant and interesting
to watch their tics and foibles and little vices swelling and burgeoning and
blossoming into enormous and fantastic flowers of cruelty and pride and
lewdness and avarice。 The Caesarean environment makes the Caesar； as
the special food and the queenly cell make the queen bee。 We differ from
the bees in so far that； given the proper food； they can be sure of making a
queen every time。 With us there is no such certainty； out of every ten
men placed in the Caesarean environment one will be temperamentally
good； or intelligent； or great。 The rest will blossom into Caesars； he will
not。 Seventy and eighty years ago simple…minded people； reading of the
exploits of the Bourbons in South Italy； cried out in amazement： To think
that such things should be happening in the nineteenth century！ And a
few years since we too were astonished to find that in our still more
astonishing twentieth century； unhappy blackamoors on the Congo and the
Amazon were being treated as English serfs were treated in the time of
Stephen。 To…day we are no longer surprised at these things。 The Black
and Tans harry Ireland； the Poles maltreat the Silesians； the bold Fascisti
slaughter their poorer countrymen： we take it all for granted。 Since the
war we wonder at nothing。 We have created a Caesarean environment
and a host of little Caesars has sprung up。 What could be more natural？〃
Mr。 Scogan drank off what was left of his port and refilled the glass。
At this very moment；〃 he went on； 〃the most frightful horrors are
taking place in every corner of the world。 People are being crushed；
slashed； disembowelled； mangled； their dead bodies rot and their eyes
decay with the rest。 Screams of pain and fear go pulsing through the air
at the rate of eleven hundred feet per second。 After travelling for three
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seconds they are perfectly inaudible。 These are distressing facts； but do
we enjoy life any the less because of them？ Most certainly we do not。
We feel sympathy； no doubt； we represent to ourselves imaginatively the
sufferings of nations and individuals and we deplore them。 But； after all；
what are sympathy and imagination？ Precious little； unless the person
for whom we feel sympathy happens to be closely involved in our
affections； and even then they don't go very far。 And a good thing too； for
if one had an imagination vivid enough and a sympathy sufficiently
sensitive really to comprehend and to feel the sufferings of other people；
one would never have a moment's peace of mind。 A really sympathetic
race would not so much as know the meaning of happiness。 But luckily；
as I've already said； we aren't a sympathetic race。 At the beginning of the
war I used to think I really suffered； through imagination and sympathy；
with those who physically suffered。 But after a month or two I had to
admit that； honestly； I didn't。 And yet I think I have a more vivid
imagination than most。 One is always alone in suffering； the fact is
depressing when one happens to be the sufferer； but it makes pleasure
possible for the rest of the world。〃
There was a pause。 Henry Wimbush pushed back his chair。
〃I think perhaps we ought to go and join the ladies；〃 he said。
〃So do I；〃 said Ivor； jumping up with alacrity。 He turned to Mr。
Scogan。 〃Fortunately；〃 he said； 〃we can share our pleasures。