the research magnificent-第3节

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gs　as　well　as　big　things。　　I　have　to　grapple　with　some　little　dread　every　day　urge　myself。　。　。　。　　Just　as　I　have　to　wash　and　shave　myself　every　day。　。　。　。　　I　believe　it　is　so　with　every　one；　but　it　is　difficult　to　be　sure；　few　men　who　go　into　dangers　care　very　much　to　talk　about　fear。　。　。　。〃　Later　Benham　found　some　excuses　for　fear；　came　even　to　dealings　with　fear。　　He　never；　however；　admits　that　this　universal　instinct　is　any　better　than　a　kindly　but　unintelligent　nurse　from　whose　fostering　restraints　it　is　man's　duty　to　escape。　　Discretion；　he　declared；　must　remain；　a　sense　of　proportion；　an　〃adequacy　of　enterprise；〃　but　the　discretion　of　an　aristocrat　is　in　his　head；　a　tactical　detail；　it　has　nothing　to　do　with　this　visceral　sinking；　this　ebb　in　the　nerves。　　〃From　top　to　bottom；　the　whole　spectrum　of　fear　is　bad；　from　panic　fear　at　one　extremity　down　to　that　mere　disinclination　for　enterprise；　that　reluctance　and　indolence　which　is　its　lowest　phase。　　These　are　things　of　the　beast；　these　are　for　creatures　that　have　a　settled　environment；　a　life　history；　that　spin　in　a　cage　of　instincts。　　But　man　is　a　beast　of　that　kind　no　longer；　he　has　left　his　habitat；　he　goes　out　to　limitless　living。　。　。　。〃　This　idea　of　man　going　out　into　new　things；　leaving　securities；　habits；　customs；　leaving　his　normal　life　altogether　behind　him；　underlay　all　Benham's　aristocratic　conceptions。　　And　it　was　natural　that　he　should　consider　fear　as　entirely　inconvenient；　treat　it　indeed　with　ingratitude；　and　dwell　upon　the　immense　liberations　that　lie　beyond　for　those　who　will　force　themselves　through　its　remonstrances。　。　。　。　Benham　confessed　his　liability　to　fear　quite　freely　in　these　notes。　His　fear　of　animals　was　ineradicable。　　He　had　had　an　overwhelming　dread　of　bears　until　he　was　twelve　or　thirteen；　the　child's　irrational　dread　of　impossible　bears；　bears　lurking　under　the　bed　and　in　the　evening　shadows。　　He　confesses　that　even　up　to　manhood　he　could　not　cross　a　field　containing　cattle　without　keeping　a　wary　eye　upon　themhis　bull　adventure　rather　increased　than　diminished　that　dispositionhe　hated　a　strange　dog　at　his　heels　and　would　manoeuvre　himself　as　soon　as　possible　out　of　reach　of　the　teeth　or　heels　of　a　horse。　　But　the　peculiar　dread　of　his　childhood　was　tigers。　　Some　gaping　nursemaid　confronted　him　suddenly　with　a　tiger　in　a　cage　in　the　menagerie　annexe　of　a　circus。　　〃My　small　mind　was　overwhelmed。〃　〃I　had　never　thought；〃　White　read；　〃that　a　tiger　was　much　larger　than　a　St。　Bernard　dog。　。　。　。　　This　great　creature！　。　。　。　　I　could　not　believe　any　hunter　would　attack　such　a　monster　except　by　stealth　and　with　weapons　of　enormous　power。　。　。　。　〃He　jerked　himself　to　and　fro　across　his　cramped；　rickety　cage　and　looked　over　my　head　with　yellow　eyesat　some　phantom　far　away。　Every　now　and　then　he　snarled。　　The　contempt　of　his　detestable　indifference　sank　deeper　and　deeper　into　my　soul。　　I　knew　that　were　the　cage　to　vanish　I　should　stand　there　motionless；　his　helpless　prey。　　I　knew　that　were　he　at　large　in　the　same　building　with　me　I　should　be　too　terror…stricken　to　escape　him。　　At　the　foot　of　a　ladder　leading　clear　to　escape　I　should　have　awaited　him　paralyzed。　At　last　I　gripped　my　nurse's　hand。　　‘Take　me　away；'　I　whispered。　〃In　my　dreams　that　night　he　stalked　me。　　I　made　my　frozen　flight　from　him；　I　slammed　a　door　on　him；　and　he　thrust　his　paw　through　a　panel　as　though　it　had　been　paper　and　clawed　for　me。　　The　paw　got　longer　and　longer。　。　。　。　〃I　screamed　so　loudly　that　my　father　came　up　from　his　study。　〃I　remember　that　he　took　me　in　his　arms。　〃‘It's　only　a　big　sort　of　pussy；　Poff；'　he　said。　　FELIS　TIGRIS。　FELIS；　you　know；　means　cat。'　〃But　I　knew　better。　　I　was　in　no　mood　then　for　my　father's　insatiable　pedagoguery。　〃‘And　my　little　son　mustn't　be　a　coward。'　。　。　。　〃After　that　I　understood　I　must　keep　silence　and　bear　my　tigers　alone。　〃For　years　the　thought　of　that　tiger's　immensity　haunted　my　mind。　In　my　dreams　I　cowered　before　it　a　thousand　times；　in　the　dusk　it　rarely　failed　me。　　On　the　landing　on　my　way　to　bed　there　was　a　patch　of　darkness　beyond　a　chest　that　became　a　lurking　horror　for　me；　and　sometimes　the　door　of　my　father's　bedroom　would　stand　open　and　there　was　a　long　buff　and　crimson…striped　shape；　by　day　indeed　an　ottoman；　but　by　night。　　Could　an　ottoman　crouch　and　stir　in　the　flicker　of　a　passing　candle？　　Could　an　ottoman　come　after　you　noiselessly；　and　so　close　that　you　could　not　even　turn　round　upon　it？　　No！〃

5

When　Benham　was　already　seventeen　and；　as　he　supposed；　hardened　against　his　fear　of　beasts；　his　friend　Prothero　gave　him　an　account　of　the　killing　of　an　old　labouring　man　by　a　stallion　which　had　escaped　out　of　its　stable。　　The　beast　had　careered　across　a　field；　leapt　a　hedge　and　come　upon　its　victim　suddenly。　　He　had　run　a　few　paces　and　stopped；　trying　to　defend　his　head　with　the　horse　rearing　over　him。　　It　beat　him　down　with　two　swift　blows　of　its　fore　hoofs；　one；　two；　lifted　him　up　in　its　long　yellow　teeth　and　worried　him　as　a　terrier　does　a　ratthe　poor　old　wretch　was　still　able　to　make　a　bleating　sound　at　thatdropped　him；　trampled　and　kicked　him　as　he　tried　to　crawl　away；　and　went　on　trampling　and　battering　him　until　he　was　no　more　than　a　bloody　inhuman　bundle　of　clothes　and　mire。　For　more　than　half　an　hour　this　continued；　and　then　its　animal　rage　was　exhausted　and　it　desisted；　and　went　and　grazed　at　a　little　distance　from　this　misshapen；　hoof…marked；　torn；　and　muddy　remnant　of　a　man。　　No　one　it　seems　but　a　horror…stricken　child　knew　what　was　happening。　。　。　。　This　picture　of　human　indignity　tortured　Benham's　imagination　much　more　than　it　tortured　the　teller　of　the　tale。　　It　filled　him　with　shame　and　horror。　　For　three　or　four　years　every　detail　of　that　circumstantial　narrative　seemed　unforgettable。　　A　little　lapse　from　perfect　health　and　the　obsession　returned。　　He　could　not　endure　the　neighing　of　horses：　when　he　saw　horses　galloping　in　a　field　with　him　his　heart　stood　still。　　And　all　his　life　thereafter　he　hated　horses。

6

A　different　sort　of　fear　that　also　greatly　afflicted　Benham　was　due　to　a　certain　clumsiness　and　insecurity　he　felt　in　giddy　and　unstable　places。　　There　he　was　more　definitely　balanced　between　the　hopelessly　rash　and　the　pitifully　discreet。　He　had　written　an　account　of　a　private　struggle　between　himself　and　a　certain　path　of　planks　and　rock　edges　called　the　Bisse　of　Leysin。　This　happened　in　his　adolescence。　　He　had　had　a　bad　attack　of　influenza　and　his　doctor　had　sent　him　to　a　little　hotelthe　only　hotel　it　was　in　those　daysat　Montana　in　Valais。　　There；　later；　when　he　had　picked　up　his　strength；　his　father　was　to　join　him　and　take　him　mountaineering；　that　second…rate　mountaineering　which　is　so　dear　to　dons　and　schoolmasters。　　When　the　time　came　he　was　ready　for　that；　but　he　had　had　his　experiences。　　He　had　gone　through　a　phase　of　real　cowardice。　　He　was　afraid；　he　confessed；　before　even　he　reached　Montana；　he　was　afraid　of　the　steepness　of　the　mountains。　He　had　to　drive　ten　or　twelve　miles　up　and　up　the　mountain…side；　a　road　of　innumerable　hairpin　bends　and　precipitous　banks；　the　horse　was　gaunt　and　ugly　with　a　disposition　to　shy；　and　he　confesses　he　clutched　the　side　of　the　vehicle　and　speculated　how　he　should　jump　if　presently　the　whole　turnout　went　tumbling　over。　。　。　。　〃And　afterwards　I　dreamt　dreams　of　precipices。　　I　made　strides　over　precipices；　I　fell　and　fell　with　a　floating　swiftness　towards　remote　valleys；　I　was　assailed　by　eagles　upon　a　perilous　ledge　that　crumbled　away　and　left　me　clinging　by　my　nails　to　nothing。〃　The　Bisse　of　Leysin　is　one　of　those　artificial　water…courses　which　bring　water　from　some　distant　source　to　pastures　that　have　an　insufficient　or　uncertain　supply。　　It　is　a　little　better　known　than　most　because　of　a　certain　exceptional　boldness　in　its　construction；　for　a　distance　of　a　few　score　yards　it　runs　supported　by　iron　staples　across　the　front　of　a　sheer　precipice；　and　for　perhaps　half　a　mile　it　hangs　like　an　eyebrow　over　nearly　or　quite　vertical　walls　of　pine…set　rock。　　Beside　it；　on　the　outer　side　of　it；　runs　a　path；　which　becomes　an　offhand　gangway　of　planking　at　the　overhanging　places。　　At　one　corner；　which　gives　the　favourite　picture　postcard　from　Montana；　the　rocks　project　so　sharply　above　the　water　that　the　passenger　on　the　gangway　must　crouch　down　upon　the　bending　plank　as　he　walks。　　There　is　no　hand…hold　at　all。　A　path　from　Montana　takes　one　over　a　pine…clad　spur　and　down　a　precipitous　zig…zag　upon　the　middle　of　the　Bisse；　and　thither　Benham　came；　fascinated　by　the　very　fact　that　here　was　something　of　which　the　mere　report　frightened　him。　　He　had　to　walk　across　the　cold　clear　rush　of　the　Bisse　upon　a　pine　log；　and　then　he　found　himself　upon　one　of　the　gentler　interludes　of　the　Bisse　track。　　It　was　a　scrambling　path　nearly　two　feet　wide；　and　below　it　were　slopes；　but　not　so　steep　as　to　terrify。　　At　a　vast　distance　below　he　saw　through　tree…stems　and　blue　haze　a　twisted　strand　of　bright　whiteness；　the　river　that　joins　the　Rhone　at　Sion。　　It　looped　about　and　passed　out　of　sight　remotely　beneath　his　feet。　　He　turned　to　the　right；　and　came　to　a　corner　that　overhung　a　precipice。　　He　craned　his　head　round　this　corner　and　saw　the　evil　place　of　the　picture…postcards。　He　remained　for　a　lon