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the new machiavelli-第26章

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and their motives to the quality of impulses like my own; I was also 

acquiring in my Tripos work a constantly developing and enriching 

conception of the world of men as a complex of economic; 

intellectual and moral processes。 。 。 。







5





Socialism is an intellectual Proteus; but to the men of my 

generation it came as the revolt of the workers。  Rodbertus we never 

heard of and the Fabian Society we did not understand; Marx and 

Morris; the Chicago Anarchists; JUSTICE and Social Democratic 

Federation (as it was then) presented socialism to our minds。  

Hatherleigh was the leading exponent of the new doctrines in 

Trinity; and the figure upon his wall of a huge…muscled; black…

haired toiler swaggering sledgehammer in hand across a revolutionary 

barricade; seemed the quintessence of what he had to expound。  

Landlord and capitalist had robbed and enslaved the workers; and 

were driving them quite automatically to inevitable insurrection。  

They would arise and the capitalist system would flee and vanish 

like the mists before the morning; like the dews before the sunrise; 

giving place in the most simple and obvious manner to an era of 

Right and Justice and Virtue and Well Being; and in short a 

Perfectly Splendid Time。



I had already discussed this sort of socialism under the guidance of 

Britten; before I went up to Cambridge。  It was all mixed up with 

ideas about freedom and natural virtue and a great scorn for kings; 

titles; wealth and officials; and it was symbolised by the red ties 

we wore。  Our simple verdict on existing arrangements was that they 

were 〃all wrong。〃  The rich were robbers and knew it; kings and 

princes were usurpers and knew it; religious teachers were impostors 

in league with power; the economic system was an elaborate plot on 

the part of the few to expropriate the many。  We went about feeling 

scornful of all the current forms of life; forms that esteemed 

themselves solid; that were; we knew; no more than shapes painted on 

a curtain that was presently to be torn aside。 。 。 。



It was Hatherleigh's poster and his capacity for overstating things; 

I think; that first qualified my simple revolutionary enthusiasm。  

Perhaps also I had met with Fabian publications; but if I did I 

forget the circumstances。  And no doubt my innate constructiveness 

with its practical corollary of an analytical treatment of the 

material supplied; was bound to push me on beyond this melodramatic 

interpretation of human affairs。



I compared that Working Man of the poster with any sort of working 

man I knew。  I perceived that the latter was not going to change; 

and indeed could not under any stimulus whatever be expected to 

change; into the former。  It crept into my mind as slowly and surely 

as the dawn creeps into a room that the former was not; as I had at 

first rather glibly assumed; an 〃ideal;〃 but a complete 

misrepresentation of the quality and possibilities of things。



I do not know now whether it was during my school…days or at 

Cambridge that I first began not merely to see the world as a great 

contrast of rich and poor; but to feel the massive effect of that 

multitudinous majority of people who toil continually; who are for 

ever anxious about ways and means; who are restricted; ill clothed; 

ill fed and ill housed; who have limited outlooks and continually 

suffer misadventures; hardships and distresses through the want of 

money。  My lot had fallen upon the fringe of the possessing 

minority; if I did not know the want of necessities I knew 

shabbiness; and the world that let me go on to a university 

education intimated very plainly that there was not a thing beyond 

the primary needs that my stimulated imagination might demand that 

it would not be an effort for me to secure。  A certain aggressive 

radicalism against the ruling and propertied classes followed almost 

naturally from my circumstances。  It did not at first connect itself 

at all with the perception of a planless disorder in human affairs 

that had been forced upon me by the atmosphere of my upbringing; nor 

did it link me in sympathy with any of the profounder realities of 

poverty。  It was a personal independent thing。  The dingier people 

one saw in the back streets and lower quarters of Bromstead and 

Penge; the drift of dirty children; ragged old women; street 

loafers; grimy workers that made the social background of London; 

the stories one heard of privation and sweating; only joined up very 

slowly with the general propositions I was making about life。  We 

could become splendidly eloquent about the social revolution and the 

triumph of the Proletariat after the Class war; and it was only by a 

sort of inspiration that it came to me that my bedder; a garrulous 

old thing with a dusty black bonnet over one eye and an 

ostentatiously clean apron outside the dark mysteries that clothed 

her; or the cheeky little ruffians who yelled papers about the 

streets; were really material to such questions。



Directly any of us young socialists of Trinity found ourselves in 

immediate contact with servants or cadgers or gyps or bedders or 

plumbers or navvies or cabmen or railway porters we became 

unconsciously and unthinkingly aristocrats。  Our voices altered; our 

gestures altered。  We behaved just as all the other men; rich or 

poor; swatters or sportsmen or Pinky Dinkys; behaved; and exactly as 

we were expected to behave。  On the whole it is a population of poor 

quality round about Cambridge; rather stunted and spiritless and 

very difficult to idealise。  That theoretical Working Man of ours!

if we felt the clash at all we explained it; I suppose; by assuming 

that he came from another part of the country; Esmeer; I remember; 

who lived somewhere in the Fens; was very eloquent about the Cornish 

fishermen; and Hatherleigh; who was a Hampshire man; assured us we 

ought to know the Scottish miner。  My private fancy was for the 

Lancashire operative because of his co…operative societies; and 

because what Lancashire thinks to…day England thinks to…morrow。 。 。 。  

And also I had never been in Lancashire。



By little increments of realisation it was that the profounder 

verities of the problem of socialism came to me。  It helped me very 

much that I had to go down to the Potteries several times to discuss 

my future with my uncle and guardian; I walked about and saw Bursley 

Wakes and much of the human aspects of organised industrialism at 

close quarters for the first time。  The picture of a splendid 

Working Man cheated out of his innate glorious possibilities; and 

presently to arise and dash this scoundrelly and scandalous system 

of private ownership to fragments; began to give place to a 

limitless spectacle of inefficiency; to a conception of millions of 

people not organised as they should be; not educated as they should 

be; not simply prevented from but incapable of nearly every sort of 

beauty; mostly kindly and well meaning; mostly incompetent; mostly 

obstinate; and easily humbugged and easily diverted。  Even the 

tragic and inspiring idea of Marx; that the poor were nearing a 

limit of painful experience; and awakening to a sense of intolerable 

wrongs; began to develop into the more appalling conception that the 

poor were simply in a witless uncomfortable inconclusive way

〃muddling along〃; that they wanted nothing very definitely nor very 

urgently; that mean fears enslaved them and mean satisfactions 

decoyed them; that they took the very gift of life itself with a 

spiritless lassitude; hoarding it; being rather anxious not to lose 

it than to use it in any way whatever。



The complete development of that realisation was the work of many 

years。  I had only the first intimations at Cambridge。  But I did 

have intimations。  Most acutely do I remember the doubts that 

followed the visit of Chris Robinson。  Chris Robinson was heralded 
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