Chapter45

philipsoonrealisedthatthespiritwhichinformedhisfriendswascronshaw’s.itwasfromhimthatlawsongothisparadoxes;andevenclutton,whostrainedafterindividuality,expressedhimselfinthetermshehadinsensiblyacquiredfromtheolderman.itwashisideasthattheybandiedaboutattable,andonhisauthoritytheyformedtheirjudgments.theymadeupfortherespectwithwhichunconsciouslytheytreatedhimbylaughingathisfoiblesandlamentinghisvices.

“ofcourse,pooroldcronshawwillneverdoanygood,”theysaid.“he’squitehopeless.”  theypridedthemselvesonbeingaloneinappreciatinghisgenius;andthough,withthecontemptofyouthforthefolliesofmiddle-age,theypatronisedhimamongthemselves,theydidnotfailtolookuponitasafeatherintheircapsifhehadchosenatimewhenonlyonewastheretobeparticularlywonderful.cronshawnevercametogravier’s.forthelastfouryearshehadlivedinsqualidconditionswithawomanwhomonlylawsonhadonceseen,inatinyapartmentonthesixthfloorofoneofthemostdilapidatedhousesonthequaidesgrandsaugustins:lawsondescribedwithgustothefilth,theuntidiness,thelitter.

“andthestinknearlyblewyourheadoff.”

“notatdinner,lawson,”expostulatedoneoftheothers.

buthewouldnotdenyhimselfthepleasureofgivingpicturesquedetailsoftheodourswhichmethisnostril.withafiercedelightinhisownrealismhedescribedthewomanwhohadopenedthedoorforhim.shewasdark,small,andfat,quiteyoung,withblackhairthatseemedalwaysonthepointofcomingdown.sheworeaslatternlyblouseandnocorsets.withherredcheeks,largesensualmouth,andshining,lewdeyes,sheremindedyouofthebohemienneinthelouvrebyfranzhals.shehadaflauntingvulgaritywhichamusedandyethorrified.ascrubby,unwashedbabywasplayingonthefloor.itwasknownthattheslutdeceivedcronshawwiththemostworthlessragamuffinsofthequarter,anditwasamysterytotheingenuousyouthswhoabsorbedhiswisdomoveracafetablethatcronshawwithhiskeenintellectandhispassionforbeautycouldallyhimselftosuchacreature.butheseemedtorevelinthecoarsenessofherlanguageandwouldoftenreportsomephrasewhichreekedofthegutter.hereferredtoherironicallyaslafilledemonconcierge.cronshawwasverypoor.heearnedabaresubsistencebywritingontheexhibitionsofpicturesforoneortwoenglishpapers,andhedidacertainamountoftranslating.hehadbeenonthestaffofanenglishpaperinparis,buthadbeendismissedfordrunkenness;hestillhoweverdidoddjobsforit,describingsalesatthehoteldrouotortherevuesatmusic-halls.thelifeofparishadgotintohisbones,andhewouldnotchangeit,notwithstandingitssqualor,drudgery,andhardship,foranyotherintheworld.heremainedthereallthroughtheyear,eveninsummerwheneveryoneheknewwasaway,andfelthimselfonlyateasewithinamileoftheboulevardst.michel.butthecuriousthingwasthathehadneverlearnttospeakfrenchpassably,andhekeptinhisshabbyclothesboughtatlabellejardiniereanineradicablyenglishappearance.

hewasamanwhowouldhavemadeaessoflifeacenturyandahalfagowhenconversationwasapassporttogoodcompanyandinebrietynobar.

“ioughttohavelivedintheeighteenhundreds,”hesaidhimself.“whatiwantisapatron.ishouldhavepublishedmypoemsbysubscriptionanddedicatedthemtoanobleman.ilongtocomposerhymedcoupletsuponthepoodleofacountess.mysoulyearnsfortheloveofchamber-maidsandtheconversationofbishops.”

hequotedtheromanticrolla,

“jesuisvenutroptarddansunmondetropvieux.”

helikednewfaces,andhetookafancytophilip,whoseemedtoachievethedifficultfeatoftalkingjustenoughtoestconversationandnottoomuchtopreventmonologue.philipwascaptivated.hedidnotrealisethatlittlethatcronshawsaidwasnew.hispersonalityinconversationhadacuriouspower.hehadabeautifulandasonorousvoice,andamannerofputtingthingswhichwasirresistibletoyouth.allhesaidseemedtoexcitethought,andoftenonthewayhomelawsonandphilipwouldwalktoandfromoneanother’shotels,discussingsomepointwhichachancewordofcronshawhadested.itwasdisconcertingtophilip,whohadayouthfuleagernessforresults,thatcronshaw’spoetryhardlycameuptoexpectation.ithadneverbeenpublishedinavolume,butmostofithadappearedinperiodicals;andafteragooddealofpersuasioncronshawbroughtdownabundleofpagestornoutoftheyellowbook,thesaturdayreview,andotherjournals,oneachofwhichwasapoem.philipwastakenabacktofindthatmostofthemremindedhimeitherofhenleyorofswinburne.itneededthesplendourofcronshaw’sdeliverytomakethempersonal.heexpressedhisdisappointmenttolawson,whocarelesslyrepeatedhiswords;andnexttimephilipwenttothecloserie

deslilasthepoetturnedtohimwithhissleeksmile:

“ihearyoudon’tthinkmuchofmyverses.”

philipwasembarrassed.

“idon’tknowaboutthat,”heanswered.“ienjoyedreadingthemverymuch.”

“donotattempttosparemyfeelings,”returnedcronshaw,withawaveofhisfathand.“idonotattachanyeratedimportancetomypoeticalworks.lifeistheretobelivedratherthantobewrittenabout.myaimistosearchoutthemanifoldexperiencethatitoffers,wringingfromeachmomentwhatofemotionitpresents.ilookuponmywritingasagracefulaccomplishmentwhichdoesnotabsorbbutratheraddspleasuretoexistence.andasforposterity—damnposterity.”

philipsmiled,foritleapedtoone’seyesthattheartistinlifehadproducednomorethanawretcheddaub.cronshawlookedathimmeditativelyandfilledhisglass.hesentthewaiterforapacketofcigarettes.

“youareamusedbecauseitalkinthisfashionandyouknowthatiampoorandliveinanatticwithavulgartrollopwhodeceivesmewithhair-dressersandgarconsdecafe;itranslatewretchedbooksforthebritishpublic,andwritearticlesuponcontemptiblepictureswhichdeservenoteventobeabused.butpraytellmewhatisthemeaningoflife?”

“isay,that’sratheradifficultquestion.won’tyougivetheansweryourself?”

“no,becauseit’sworthlessunlessyouyourselfdiscoverit.butwhatdoyousupposeyouareintheworldfor?”

philiphadneveraskedhimself,andhethoughtforamomentbeforereplying.

“oh,idon’tknow:isupposetodoone’sduty,andmakethebestpossibleuseofone’sfaculties,andavoidhurtingotherpeople.”

“inshort,todountoothersasyouwouldtheyshoulddountoyou?”

“isupposeso.”

“christianity.”

“no,itisn’t,”saidphilipindignantly.“ithasnothingtodowithchristianity.it’sjustabstractmorality.”

“butthere’snosuchthingasabstractmorality.”

“inthatcase,supposingundertheinfluenceofliquoryouleftyourpursebehindwhenyouleavehereandipickeditup,whydoyouimaginethatishouldreturnittoyou?it’snotthefearofthepolice.”

“it’sthedreadofhellifyousinandthehopeofheavenifyouarevirtuous.”

“butibelieveinneither.”

“thatmaybe.neitherdidkantwhenhedevisedthecategoricalimperative.youhavethrownasideacreed,butyouhavepreservedtheethicwhichwasbaseduponit.toallintentsyouareachristianstill,andifthereisagodinheavenyouwillundoubtedlyreceiveyourreward.thealmightycanhardlybesuchafoolasthechurchesmakeout.ifyoukeephislawsidon’tthinkhecancareapacketofpinswhetheryoubelieveinhimornot.”

“butifileftmypursebehindyouwouldcertainlyreturnittome,”saidphilip.

“notfrommotivesofabstractmorality,butonlyfromfearofthepolice.”

“it’sathousandtoonethatthepolicewouldneverfindout.”

“myancestorshavelivedinacivilisedstatesolongthatthefearofthepolicehaseatenintomybones.thedaughterofmyconciergewouldnothesitateforamoment.youanswerthatshebelongstothecriminalclasses;notatall,sheismerelydevoidofvulgarprejudice.”

“butthenthatdoesawaywithhonourandvirtueandgoodnessanddecencyandeverything,”saidphilip.

“haveyouevercommittedasin?”

“idon’tknow,isupposeso,”answeredphilip.

“youspeakwiththelipsofadissentingminister.i

havenevercommittedasin.”

cronshawinhisshabbygreat-coat,withthecollarturnedup,andhishatwelldownonhishead,withhisredfatfaceandhislittlegleamingeyes,lookedextraordinarilycomic;butphilipwastoomuchinearnesttolaugh.

“haveyouneverdoneanythingyouregret?”

“howcaniregretwhenwhatididwasinevitable?”askedcronshawinreturn.

“butthat’sfatalism.”

“theillusionwhichmanhasthathiswillisfreeissodeeplyrootedthatiamreadytoacceptit.iactasthoughiwereafreeagent.butwhenanactionisperformeditisclearthatalltheforcesoftheuniversefromalleternityconspiredtocauseit,andnothingicoulddocouldhavepreventedit.itwasinevitable.ifitwasgoodicanclaimnomerit;ifitwasbadicanacceptnocensure.”

“mybrainreels,”saidphilip.

“havesomewhiskey,”returnedcronshaw,passingoverthebottle.“there’snothinglikeitforclearingthehead.youmustexpecttobethick-wittedifyouinsistupondrinkingbeer.”

philipshookhishead,andcronshawproceeded:“you’renotabadfellow,butyouwon’tdrink.sobrietydisturbsconversation.butwhenispeakofgoodandbad”philipsawhewastakingupthethreadofhisdiscourse,“ispeakconventionally.iattachnomeaningtothosewords.irefusetomakeahierarchyofhumanactionsandascribeworthinesstosomeandill-reputetoothers.thetermsviceandvirtuehavenosignificationforme.idonotconferpraiseorblame:iaccept.iamthemeasureofallthings.iamthecentreoftheworld.”

“butthereareoneortwootherpeopleintheworld,”objectedphilip.

“ispeakonlyformyself.iknowthemonlyastheylimitmyactivities.roundeachofthemtootheworldturns,andeachoneforhimselfisthecentreoftheuniverse.myrightoverthemextendsonlyasfarasmypower.whaticandoistheonlylimitofwhatimaydo.becausewearegregariousweliveinsociety,andsocietyholdstogetherbymeansofforce,forceofarms(thatisthepoliceman)andforceofpublicopinion(thatismrs.grundy).youhavesocietyononehandandtheindividualontheother:eachisanorganismstrivingforself-preservation.itismightagainstmight.istandalone,boundtoacceptsocietyandnotunwilling,sinceinreturnforthetaxesipayitprotectsme,aweakling,againstthetyrannyofanotherstrongerthaniam;butisubmittoitslawsbecauseimust;idonotacknowledgetheirjustice:idonotknowjustice,ionlyknowpower.andwhenihavepaidforthepolicemanwhoprotectsmeand,ifiliveinacountrywhereconscriptionisinforce,servedinthearmywhichguardsmyhouseandlandfromtheinvader,iamquitswithsociety:fortheresticounteritsmightwithmywiliness.itmakeslawsforitsself-preservation,andifibreakthemitimprisonsorkillsme:ithasthemighttodosoandthereforetheright.ifibreakthelawsiwillacceptthevengeanceofthestate,butiwillnotregarditaspunishmentnorshallifeelmyselfconvictedofwrong-doing.societytemptsmetoitsservicebyhonoursandrichesandthegoodopinionofmyfellows;butiamindifferenttotheirgoodopinion,idespisehonoursandicandoverywellwithoutriches.”

“butifeveryonethoughtlikeyouthingswouldgotopiecesatonce.”