Chapter 106

Philipavoidedtheplaceshehadknowninhappiertimes.ThelittlegatheringsatthetaverninBeakStreetwerebrokenup:Macalister,havingletdownhisfriends,nolongerwentthere,andHaywardwasattheCape.OnlyLawsonremained;andPhilip,feelingthatnowthepainterandhehadnothingincommon,didnotwishtoseehim;butoneSaturdayafternoon,afterdinner,havingchangedhisclotheshewalkeddownRegentStreettogotothefreelibraryinSt.Martin』sLane,meaningtospendtheafternoonthere,andsuddenlyfoundhimselffacetofacewithhim.Hisfirstinstinctwastopassonwithoutaword,butLawsondidnotgivehimtheopportunity.

「Whereonearthhaveyoubeenallthistime?」hecried.

「I?」saidPhilip.

「Iwroteyouandaskedyoutocometothestudioforabeanoandyouneverevenanswered.」

「Ididn』tgetyourletter.」

「No,Iknow.Iwenttothehospitaltoaskforyou,andIsawmyletterintherack.HaveyouchuckedtheMedical?」

Philiphesitatedforamoment.Hewasashamedtotellthetruth,buttheshamehefeltangeredhim,andheforcedhimselftospeak.Hecouldnothelpreddening.

「Yes,IlostthelittlemoneyIhad.Icouldn』taffordtogoonwithit.」

「Isay,I』mawfullysorry.Whatareyoudoing?」

「I』mashop-walker.」

ThewordschokedPhilip,buthewasdeterminednottoshirkthetruth.HekepthiseyesonLawsonandsawhisembarrassment.Philipsmiledsavagely.

「IfyouwentintoLynnandSedley,andmadeyourwayintothe『maderobes』department,youwouldseemeinafrockcoat,walkingaboutwithadegageairanddirectingladieswhowanttobuypetticoatsorstockings.Firsttotheright,madam,andsecondontheleft.」

Lawson,seeingthatPhilipwasmakingajestofit,laughedawkwardly.Hedidnotknowwhattosay.ThepicturethatPhilipcalleduphorrifiedhim,buthewasafraidtoshowhissympathy.

「That』sabitofachangeforyou,」hesaid.

Hiswordsseemedabsurdtohim,andimmediatelyhewishedhehadnotsaidthem.Philipflusheddarkly.

「Abit,」hesaid.「Bytheway,Ioweyoufivebob.」

Heputhishandinhispocketandpulledoutsomesilver.

「Oh,itdoesn』tmatter.I』dforgottenallaboutit.」

「Goon,takeit.」

Lawsonreceivedthemoneysilently.Theystoodinthemiddleofthepavement,andpeoplejostledthemastheypassed.TherewasasardonictwinkleinPhilip』seyes,whichmadethepainterintenselyuncomfortable,andhecouldnottellthatPhilip』sheartwasheavywithdespair.Lawsonwanteddreadfullytodosomething,buthedidnotknowwhattodo.

「Isay,won』tyoucometothestudioandhaveatalk?」

「No,」saidPhilip.

「Whynot?」

「There』snothingtotalkabout.」

HesawthepaincomeintoLawson』seyes,hecouldnothelpit,hewassorry,buthehadtothinkofhimself;hecouldnotbearthethoughtofdiscussinghissituation,hecouldendureitonlybydeterminingresolutelynottothinkaboutit.Hewasafraidofhisweaknessifoncehebegantoopenhisheart.Moreover,hetookirresistibledislikestotheplaceswherehehadbeenmiserable:herememberedthehumiliationhehadenduredwhenhehadwaitedinthatstudio,ravenouswithhunger,forLawsontoofferhimameal,andthelastoccasionwhenhehadtakenthefiveshillingsoffhim.HehatedthesightofLawson,becauseherecalledthosedaysofutterabasement.

「Thenlookhere,comeanddinewithmeonenight.Chooseyourownevening.」

Philipwastouchedwiththepainter』skindness.Allsortsofpeoplewerestrangelykindtohim,hethought.

「It』sawfullygoodofyou,oldman,butI』drathernot.」Heheldouthishand.「Good-bye.」

Lawson,troubledbyabehaviourwhichseemedinexplicable,tookhishand,andPhilipquicklylimped

away.Hisheartwasheavy;and,aswasusualwithhim,hebegantoreproachhimselfforwhathehaddone:hedidnotknowwhatmadnessofpridehadmadehimrefusetheofferedfriendship.ButheheardsomeonerunningbehindhimandpresentlyLawson』svoicecallinghim;hestoppedandsuddenlythefeelingofhostilitygotthebetterofhim;hepresentedtoLawsonacold,setface.

「Whatisit?」

「IsupposeyouheardaboutHayward,didn』tyou?」

「IknowhewenttotheCape.」

「Hedied,youknow,soonafterlanding.」

ForamomentPhilipdidnotanswer.Hecouldhardlybelievehisears.

「How?」heasked.

「Oh,enteric.Hardluck,wasn』tit?Ithoughtyoumightn』tknow.GavemeabitofaturnwhenIheardit.」

Lawsonnoddedquicklyandwalkedaway.Philipfeltashiverpassthroughhisheart.Hehadneverbeforelostafriendofhisownage,forthedeathofCronshaw,amansomucholderthanhimself,hadseemedtocomeinthenormalcourseofthings.Thenewsgavehimapeculiarshock.Itremindedhimofhisownmortality,forlikeeveryoneelsePhilip,knowingperfectlythatallmenmustdie,hadnointimatefeelingthatthesamemustapplytohimself;andHayward』sdeath,thoughhehadlongceasedtohaveanywarmfeelingforhim,affectedhimdeeply.Herememberedonasuddenallthegoodtalkstheyhadhad,anditpainedhimtothinkthattheywouldnevertalkwithoneanotheragain;herememberedtheirfirstmeetingandthepleasantmonthstheyhadspenttogetherinHeidelberg.Philip』sheartsankashethoughtofthelostyears.Hewalkedonmechanically,notnoticingwherehewent,andrealisedsuddenly,withamovementofirritation,thatinsteadofturningdowntheHaymarkethehadsaunteredalong

ShaftesburyAvenue.Itboredhimtoretracehissteps;andbesides,withthatnews,hedidnotwanttoread,hewantedtositaloneandthink.HemadeuphismindtogototheBritishMuseum.Solitudewasnowhisonlyluxury.SincehehadbeenatLynn』shehadoftengonethereandsatinfrontofthegroupsfromtheParthenon;and,notdeliberatelythinking,hadallowedtheirdivinemassestoresthistroubledsoul.Butthisafternoontheyhadnothingtosaytohim,andafterafewminutes,impatiently,hewanderedoutoftheroom.Thereweretoomanypeople,provincialswithfoolishfaces,foreignersporingoverguide-books;theirhideousnessbesmirchedtheeverlastingmasterpieces,theirrestlessnesstroubledthegod』simmortalrepose.Hewentintoanotherroomandheretherewashardlyanyone.Philipsatdownwearily.Hisnerveswereonedge.Hecouldnotgetthepeopleoutofhismind.SometimesatLynn』stheyaffectedhiminthesameway,andhelookedatthemfilepasthimwithhorror;theyweresouglyandtherewassuchmeannessintheirfaces,itwasterrifying;theirfeaturesweredistortedwithpaltrydesires,andyoufelttheywerestrangetoanyideasofbeauty.Theyhadfurtiveeyesandweakchins.Therewasnowickednessinthem,butonlypettinessandvulgarity.Theirhumourwasalowfacetiousness.Sometimeshefoundhimselflookingatthemtoseewhatanimaltheyresembled(hetriednotto,foritquicklybecameanobsession,)andhesawinthemallthesheeporthehorseorthefoxorthegoat.Humanbeingsfilledhimwithdisgust.

Butpresentlytheinfluenceoftheplacedescendeduponhim.Hefeltquieter.Hebegantolookabsentlyatthetombstoneswithwhichtheroomwaslined.TheyweretheworkofAthenianstonemasonsofthefourthandfifthcenturiesbeforeChrist,andtheywereverysimple,workofnogreattalentbutwiththeexquisitespiritofAthensuponthem;timehadmellowedthemarbletothecolourofhoney,sothatunconsciously

onethoughtofthebeesofHymettus,andsoftenedtheiroutlines.Somerepresentedanudefigure,seatedonabench,somethedepartureofthedeadfromthosewholovedhim,andsomethedeadclaspinghandswithonewhoremainedbehind.Onallwasthetragicwordfarewell;thatandnothingmore.Theirsimplicitywasinfinitelytouching.Friendpartedfromfriend,thesonfromhismother,andtherestraintmadethesurvivor』sgriefmorepoignant.Itwassolong,longago,andcenturyuponcenturyhadpassedoverthatunhappiness;fortwothousandyearsthosewhowepthadbeendustasthosetheyweptfor.Yetthewoewasalivestill,anditfilledPhilip』sheartsothathefeltcompassionspringupinit,andhesaid:

「Poorthings,poorthings.」

Anditcametohimthatthegapingsight-seersandthefatstrangerswiththeirguide-books,andallthosemean,commonpeoplewhothrongedtheshop,withtheirtrivialdesiresandvulgarcares,weremortalandmustdie.Theytoolovedandmustpartfromthosetheyloved,thesonfromhismother,thewifefromherhusband;andperhapsitwasmoretragicbecausetheirliveswereuglyandsordid,andtheyknewnothingthatgavebeautytotheworld.Therewasonestonewhichwasverybeautiful,abasreliefoftwoyoungmenholdingeachother』shand;andthereticenceofline,thesimplicity,madeoneliketothinkthatthesculptorherehadbeentouchedwithagenuineemotion.Itwasanexquisitememorialtothatthanwhichtheworldoffersbutonethingmoreprecious,toafriendship;andasPhiliplookedatit,hefeltthetearscometohiseyes.HethoughtofHaywardandhiseageradmirationforhimwhenfirsttheymet,andhowdisillusionhadcomeandthenindifference,tillnothingheldthemtogetherbuthabitandoldmemories.Itwasoneofthequeerthingsoflifethatyousawapersoneverydayformonthsandweresointimatewithhimthatyoucouldnotimagineexistencewithouthim;thenseparationcame,andeverythingwentoninthesameway,andthecompanionwhohadseemedessentialprovedunnecessary.Yourlifeproceededandyoudidnotevenmisshim.PhilipthoughtofthoseearlydaysinHeidelbergwhenHayward,capableofgreatthings,hadbeenfullofenthusiasmforthefuture,andhow,littlebylittle,achievingnothing,hehadresignedhimselftofailure.Nowhewasdead.Hisdeathhadbeenasfutileashislife.Hediedingloriously,ofastupiddisease,failingoncemore,evenattheend,toaccomplishanything.Itwasjustthesamenowasifhehadneverlived.

Philipaskedhimselfdesperatelywhatwastheuseoflivingatall.Itallseemedinane.ItwasthesamewithCronshaw:itwasquiteunimportantthathehadlived;hewasdeadandforgotten,hisbookofpoemssoldinremainderbysecond-handbooksellers;hislifeseemedtohaveservednothingexcepttogiveapushingjournalistoccasiontowriteanarticleinareview.AndPhilipcriedoutinhissoul:

「Whatistheuseofit?」

Theeffortwassoincommensuratewiththeresult.Thebrighthopesofyouthhadtobepaidforatsuchabitterpriceofdisillusionment.Painanddiseaseandunhappinessweigheddownthescalesoheavily.Whatdiditallmean?Hethoughtofhisownlife,thehighhopeswithwhichhehadentereduponit,thelimitationswhichhisbodyforceduponhim,hisfriendlessness,andthelackofaffectionwhichhadsurroundedhisyouth.Hedidnotknowthathehadeverdoneanythingbutwhatseemedbesttodo,andwhatacropperhehadcome!Othermen,withnomoreadvantagesthanhe,succeeded,andothersagain,withmanymore,failed.Itseemedpurechance.Therainfellalikeuponthejustandupontheunjust,andfornothingwasthereawhyandawherefore.

ThinkingofCronshaw,PhiliprememberedthePersianrugwhichhehadgivenhim,tellinghimthat

itofferedananswertohisquestionuponthemeaningoflife;andsuddenlytheansweroccurredtohim:hechuckled:nowthathehadit,itwaslikeoneofthepuzzleswhichyouworryovertillyouareshownthesolutionandthencannotimaginehowitcouldeverhaveescapedyou.Theanswerwasobvious.Lifehadnomeaning.Ontheearth,satelliteofastarspeedingthroughspace,livingthingshadarisenundertheinfluenceofconditionswhichwerepartoftheplanet』shistory;andastherehadbeenabeginningoflifeuponitso,undertheinfluenceofotherconditions,therewouldbeanend:man,nomoresignificantthanotherformsoflife,hadcomenotastheclimaxofcreationbutasaphysicalreactiontotheenvironment.PhiliprememberedthestoryoftheEasternKingwho,desiringtoknowthehistoryofman,wasbroughtbyasagefivehundredvolumes;busywithaffairsofstate,hebadehimgoandcondenseit;intwentyyearsthesagereturnedandhishistorynowwasinnomorethanfiftyvolumes,buttheKing,toooldthentoreadsomanyponderoustomes,badehimgoandshortenitoncemore;twentyyearspassedagainandthesage,oldandgray,broughtasinglebookinwhichwastheknowledgetheKinghadsought;buttheKinglayonhisdeath-bed,andhehadnotimetoreadeventhat;andthenthesagegavehimthehistoryofmaninasingleline;itwasthis:hewasborn,hesuffered,andhedied.Therewasnomeaninginlife,andmanbylivingservednoend.Itwasimmaterialwhetherhewasbornornotborn,whetherhelivedorceasedtolive.Lifewasinsignificantanddeathwithoutconsequence.Philipexulted,ashehadexultedinhisboyhoodwhentheweightofabeliefinGodwasliftedfromhisshoulders:itseemedtohimthatthelastburdenofresponsibilitywastakenfromhim;andforthefirsttimehewasutterlyfree.Hisinsignificancewasturnedtopower,andhefelthimselfsuddenlyequalwiththecruelfatewhichhadseemedtopersecutehim;for,iflifewasmeaningless,theworldwasrobbedofitscruelty.Whathedidorleftundonedidnotmatter.Failurewasunimportantandsuccessamountedtonothing.Hewasthemostinconsideratecreatureinthatswarmingmassofmankindwhichforabriefspaceoccupiedthesurfaceoftheearth;andhewasalmightybecausehehadwrenchedfromchaosthesecretofitsnothingness.ThoughtscametumblingoveroneanotherinPhilip』seagerfancy,andhetooklongbreathsofjoyoussatisfaction.Hefeltinclinedtoleapandsing.Hehadnotbeensohappyformonths.

「Oh,life,」hecriedinhisheart,「Ohlife,whereisthysting?」

Forthesameuprushoffancywhichhadshownhimwithalltheforceofmathematicaldemonstrationthatlifehadnomeaning,broughtwithitanotheridea;andthatwaswhyCronshaw,heimagined,hadgivenhimthePersianrug.Astheweaverelaboratedhispatternfornoendbutthepleasureofhisaestheticsense,somightamanlivehislife,orifonewasforcedtobelievethathisactionswereoutsidehischoosing,somightamanlookathislife,thatitmadeapattern.Therewasaslittleneedtodothisastherewasuse.Itwasmerelysomethinghedidforhisownpleasure.Outofthemanifoldeventsofhislife,hisdeeds,hisfeelings,histhoughts,hemightmakeadesign,regular,elaborate,complicated,orbeautiful;andthoughitmightbenomorethananillusionthathehadthepowerofselection,thoughitmightbenomorethanafantasticlegerdemaininwhichappearanceswereinterwovenwithmoonbeams,thatdidnotmatter:itseemed,andsotohimitwas.Inthevastwarpoflife(ariverarisingfromnospringandflowingendlesslytonosea),withthebackgroundtohisfanciesthattherewasnomeaningandthatnothingwasimportant,amanmightgetapersonalsatisfactioninselectingthevariousstrandsthatworkedoutthepattern.Therewasonepattern,themostobvious,perfect,andbeautiful,inwhichamanwasborn,grewtomanhood,married,producedchildren,toiledforhisbread,anddied;buttherewereothers,intricateandwonderful,inwhichhappinessdidnotenterandinwhichsuccesswasnotattempted;andinthemmightbediscoveredamoretroublinggrace.Somelives,andHayward』swasamongthem,theblindindifferenceofchancecutoffwhilethedesignwasstillimperfect;andthenthesolacewascomfortablethatitdidnotmatter;otherlives,suchasCronshaw』s,offeredapatternwhichwasdifficulttofollow,thepointofviewhadtobeshiftedandoldstandardshadtobealteredbeforeonecouldunderstandthatsuchalifewasitsownjustification.Philipthoughtthatinthrowingoverthedesireforhappinesshewascastingasidethelastofhisillusions.Hislifehadseemedhorriblewhenitwasmeasuredbyitshappiness,butnowheseemedtogatherstrengthasherealisedthatitmightbemeasuredbysomethingelse.Happinessmatteredaslittleaspain.Theycamein,bothofthem,asalltheotherdetailsofhislifecamein,totheelaborationofthedesign.Heseemedforaninstanttostandabovetheaccidentsofhisexistence,andhefeltthattheycouldnotaffecthimagainastheyhaddonebefore.Whateverhappenedtohimnowwouldbeonemoremotivetoaddtothecomplexityofthepattern,andwhentheendapproachedhewouldrejoiceinitscompletion.Itwouldbeaworkofart,anditwouldbenonethelessbeautifulbecausehealoneknewofitsexistence,andwithhisdeathitwouldatonceceasetobe.

Philipwashappy.