It is amazing how very widely diffused3 is the ignorance of such really important matters as this Hapley-Pawkins feud. Those epoch-making controversies5, again, that have convulsed the Geological Society, are, I verily believe, almost entirely6 unknown outside the fellowship of that body. I have heard men of fair general education even refer to the great scenes at these meetings as vestry-meeting squabbles. Yet the great Hate of the English and Scotch7 geologists8 has lasted now half a century, and has “left deep and abundant marks upon the body of the science.” And this Hapley-Pawkins business, though perhaps a more personal affair, stirred passions as profound, if not 141profounder. Your common man has no conception of the zeal10 that animates11 a scientific investigator12, the fury of contradiction you can arouse in him. It is the odium theologicum in a new form. There are men, for instance, who would gladly burn Professor Ray Lankester at Smithfield for his treatment of the Mollusca in the Encyclop?dia. That fantastic extension of the Cephalopods to cover the Pterpodos—But I wander from Hapley and Pawkins.
It began years and years ago, with a revision of the Microlepidoptera (whatever these may be) by Pawkins, in which he extinguished a new species created by Hapley. Hapley, who was always quarrelsome, replied by a stinging impeachment13 of the entire classification of Pawkins.[2] Pawkins, in his “Rejoinder,”[3] suggested that Hapley’s microscope was as defective14 as his powers of observation, and called him an “irresponsible meddler”—Hapley was not a professor at that time. Hapley, in his retort,[4] spoke15 of “blundering collectors,” and described, as if inadvertently, Pawkins’s revision as a “miracle of ineptitude16.” It was war to the knife. However, it would scarcely interest the reader to detail how these two great men quarrelled, and how the split 142between them widened until from the Microlepidoptera, they were at war upon every open question in entomology. There were memorable17 occasions. At times the Royal Entomological Society meetings resembled nothing so much as the Chamber18 of Deputies. On the whole, I fancy Pawkins was nearer the truth than Hapley. But Hapley was skilful19 with his rhetoric20, had a turn for ridicule21 rare in a scientific man, was endowed with vast energy, and had a fine sense of injury in the matter of the extinguished species; while Pawkins was a man of dull presence, prosy of speech, in shape not unlike a water-barrel, overconscientious with testimonials, and suspected of jobbing museum appointments. So the young men gathered round Hapley and applauded him. It was a long struggle, vicious from the beginning, and growing at last to pitiless antagonism22. The successive turns of fortune, now an advantage to one side and now to another—now Hapley tormented23 by some success of Pawkins, and now Pawkins outshone by Hapley—belong rather to the history of entomology than to this story.
2. “Remarks on a Recent Revision of Microlepidoptera.” Quart. Journ. Entomological Soc. 1863.
3. “Rejoinder to certain Remarks,” &c. Ibid. 1864.
4. “Further Remarks,” &c. Ibid.
But in 1891 Pawkins, whose health had been bad for some time, published some work upon the “mesoblast” of the Death’s Head Moth24. What the mesoblast of the Death’s Head Moth may be, does not matter a rap in this story. But the work was far below his usual standard, and gave Hapley an opening he had coveted25 for years. He must have 143worked night and day to make the most of his advantage.
In an elaborate critique he rent Pawkins to tatters,—one can fancy the man’s disordered black hair, and his queer dark eyes flashing as he went for his antagonist,—and Pawkins made a reply, halting, ineffectual, with painful gaps of silence, and yet malignant26. There was no mistaking his will to wound Hapley, nor his incapacity to do it. But few of those who heard him—I was absent from that meeting—realised how ill the man was.
Hapley had got his opponent down, and meant to finish him. He followed with a simply brutal27 attack upon Pawkins, in the form of a paper upon the development of moths28 in general, a paper showing evidence of a most extraordinary amount of mental labour, and yet couched in a violently controversial tone. Violent as it was, an editorial note witnesses that it was modified. It must have covered Pawkins with shame and confusion of face. It left no loophole; it was murderous in argument, and utterly29 contemptuous in tone; an awful thing for the declining years of a man’s career.
The world of entomologists waited breathlessly for the rejoinder from Pawkins. He would try one, for Pawkins had always been game. But when it came it surprised them. For the rejoinder of Pawkins was to catch the influenza30, to proceed to pneumonia31, and to die.
144It was perhaps as effectual a reply as he could make under the circumstances, and largely turned the current of feeling against Hapley. The very people who had most gleefully cheered on those gladiators became serious at the consequence. There could be no reasonable doubt the fret32 of the defeat had contributed to the death of Pawkins. There was a limit even to scientific controversy33, said serious people. Another crushing attack was already in the press and appeared on the day before the funeral. I don’t think Hapley exerted himself to stop it. People remembered how Hapley had hounded down his rival, and forgot that rival’s defects. Scathing34 satire35 reads ill over fresh mould. The thing provoked comment in the daily papers. This it was that made me think that you had probably heard of Hapley and this controversy. But, as I have already remarked, scientific workers live very much in a world of their own; half the people, I dare say, who go along Piccadilly to the Academy every year, could not tell you where the learned societies abide36. Many even think that Research is a kind of happy-family cage in which all kinds of men lie down together in peace.
In his private thoughts Hapley could not forgive Pawkins for dying. In the first place, it was a mean dodge37 to escape the absolute pulverisation Hapley had in hand for him, and in the second, it left Hapley’s mind with a queer gap in it. For 145twenty years he had worked hard, sometimes far into the night, and seven days a week, with microscope, scalpel, collecting-net, and pen, and almost entirely with reference to Pawkins. The European reputation he had won had come as an incident in that great antipathy38. He had gradually worked up to a climax39 in this last controversy. It had killed Pawkins, but it had also thrown Hapley out of gear, so to speak, and his doctor advised him to give up work for a time, and rest. So Hapley went down into a quiet village in Kent, and thought day and night of Pawkins, and good things it was now impossible to say about him.
At last Hapley began to realise in what direction the preoccupation tended. He determined40 to make a fight for it, and started by trying to read novels. But he could not get his mind off Pawkins, white in the face, and making his last speech—every sentence a beautiful opening for Hapley. He turned to fiction—and found it had no grip on him. He read the “Island Nights’ Entertainments” until his “sense of causation” was shocked beyond endurance by the Bottle Imp4. Then he went to Kipling, and found he “proved nothing,” besides being irreverent and vulgar. These scientific people have their limitations. Then, unhappily, he tried Besant’s “Inner House,” and the opening chapter set his mind upon learned societies and Pawkins at once.
146So Hapley turned to chess, and found it a little more soothing41. He soon mastered the moves and the chief gambits and commoner closing positions, and began to beat the Vicar. But then the cylindrical42 contours of the opposite king began to resemble Pawkins standing43 up and gasping44 ineffectually against checkmate, and Hapley decided45 to give up chess.
Perhaps the study of some new branch of science would after all be better diversion. The best rest is change of occupation. Hapley determined to plunge46 at diatoms, and had one of his smaller microscopes and Halibut’s monograph47 sent down from London. He thought that perhaps if he could get up a vigorous quarrel with Halibut, he might be able to begin life afresh and forget Pawkins. And very soon he was hard at work, in his habitual48 strenuous49 fashion, at these microscopic50 denizens51 of the wayside pool.
It was on the third day of the diatoms that Hapley became aware of a novel addition to the local fauna52. He was working late at the microscope, and the only light in the room was the brilliant little lamp with the special form of green shade. Like all experienced microscopists, he kept both eyes open. It is the only way to avoid excessive fatigue53. One eye was over the instrument, and bright and distinct before that was the circular field of the microscope, across which a brown diatom was slowly moving. With the 147other eye Hapley saw, as it were, without seeing.[5] He was only dimly conscious of the brass54 side of the instrument, the illuminated55 part of the table-cloth, a sheet of notepaper, the foot of the lamp, and the darkened room beyond.
5. The reader unaccustomed to microscopes may easily understand this by rolling a newspaper in the form of a tube and looking through it at a book, keeping the other eye open.
Suddenly his attention drifted from one eye to the other. The table-cloth was of the material called tapestry56 by shopmen, and rather brightly coloured. The pattern was in gold, with a small amount of crimson57 and pale-blue upon a greyish ground. At one point the pattern seemed displaced, and there was a vibrating movement of the colours at this point.
Hapley suddenly moved his head back and looked with both eyes. His mouth fell open with astonishment58.
It was a large moth or butterfly; its wings spread in butterfly fashion!
It was strange it should be in the room at all, for the windows were closed. Strange that it should not have attracted his attention when fluttering to its present position. Strange that it should match the table-cloth. Stranger far to him, Hapley, the great entomologist, it was altogether unknown. There was no delusion59. It was crawling slowly towards the foot of the lamp.
148“Genus unknown, by heavens! And in England!” said Hapley, staring.
Then he suddenly thought of Pawkins. Nothing would have maddened Pawkins more—And Pawkins was dead!
Something about the head and body of the insect became singularly suggestive of Pawkins, just as the chess king had been.
“Confound Pawkins!” said Hapley. “But I must catch this.” And, looking round him for some means of capturing the moth, he rose slowly out of his chair. Suddenly the insect rose, struck the edge of the lamp-shade—Hapley heard the “ping”—and vanished into the shadow.
In a moment Hapley had whipped off the shade, so that the whole room was illuminated. The thing had disappeared, but soon his practised eye detected it upon the wall-paper near the door. He went towards it, poising60 the lamp-shade for capture. Before he was within striking distance, however, it had risen and was fluttering round the room. After the fashion of its kind, it flew with sudden starts and turns, seeming to vanish here and reappear there. Once Hapley struck, and missed; then again.
The third time he hit his microscope. The instrument swayed, struck and overturned the lamp, and fell noisily upon the floor. The lamp turned over on the table and, very luckily, went out. Hapley was left in the dark. With a 149start he felt the strange moth blunder into his face.
It was maddening. He had no lights. If he opened the door of the room the thing would get away. In the darkness he saw Pawkins quite distinctly laughing at him. Pawkins had ever an oily laugh. He swore furiously and stamped his foot on the floor.
There was a timid rapping at the door.
Then it opened, perhaps a foot, and very slowly. The alarmed face of the landlady61 appeared behind a pink candle flame; she wore a night-cap over her grey hair and had some purple garment over her shoulders. “What was that fearful smash?” she said. “Has anything—” The strange moth appeared fluttering about the chink of the door. “Shut that door!” said Hapley, and suddenly rushed at her.
The door slammed hastily. Hapley was left alone in the dark. Then in the pause he heard his landlady scuttle62 upstairs, lock her door and drag something heavy across the room and put against it.
It became evident to Hapley that his conduct and appearance had been strange and alarming. Confound the moth! and Pawkins! However, it was a pity to lose the moth now. He felt his way into the hall and found the matches, after sending his hat down upon the floor with a noise like a drum. With the lighted candle he returned 150to the sitting-room63. No moth was to be seen. Yet once for a moment it seemed that the thing was fluttering round his head. Hapley very suddenly decided to give up the moth and go to bed. But he was excited. All night long his sleep was broken by dreams of the moth, Pawkins, and his landlady. Twice in the night he turned out and soused his head in cold water.
One thing was very clear to him. His landlady could not possibly understand about the strange moth, especially as he had failed to catch it. No one but an entomologist would understand quite how he felt. She was probably frightened at his behaviour, and yet he failed to see how he could explain it. He decided to say nothing further about the events of last night. After breakfast he saw her in her garden, and decided to go out to talk to her to reassure64 her. He talked to her about beans and potatoes, bees, caterpillars65, and the price of fruit. She replied in her usual manner, but she looked at him a little suspiciously, and kept walking as he walked, so that there was always a bed of flowers, or a row of beans, or something of the sort, between them. After a while he began to feel singularly irritated at this, and to conceal66 his vexation went indoors and presently went out for a walk.
The moth—or butterfly, trailing an odd flavour of Pawkins with it, kept coming into that walk, though he did his best to keep his mind off it. 151Once he saw it quite distinctly, with its wings flattened67 out, upon the old stone wall that runs along the west edge of the park, but going up to it he found it was only two lumps of grey and yellow lichen68. “This,” said Hapley, “is the reverse of mimicry69. Instead of a butterfly looking like a stone, here is a stone looking like a butterfly!” Once something hovered70 and fluttered round his head, but by an effort of will he drove that impression out of his mind again.
In the afternoon Hapley called upon the Vicar, and argued with him upon theological questions. They sat in the little arbour covered with briar, and smoked as they wrangled71. “Look at that moth!” said Hapley, suddenly, pointing to the edge of the wooden table.
“Where?” said the Vicar.
“You don’t see a moth on the edge of the table there?” said Hapley.
“Certainly not,” said the Vicar.
Hapley was thunderstruck. He gasped72. The Vicar was staring at him. Clearly the man saw nothing. “The eye of faith is no better than the eye of science,” said Hapley, awkwardly.
“I don’t see your point,” said the Vicar, thinking it was part of the argument.
That night Hapley found the moth crawling over his counterpane. He sat on the edge of the bed in his shirt-sleeves and reasoned with himself. Was it pure hallucination? He knew he was 152slipping, and he battled for his sanity73 with the same silent energy he had formerly74 displayed against Pawkins. So persistent75 is mental habit, that he felt as if it were still a struggle with Pawkins. He was well versed76 in psychology77. He knew that such visual illusions do come as a result of mental strain. But the point was, he did not only see the moth, he had heard it when it touched the edge of the lamp-shade, and afterwards when it hit against the wall, and he had felt it strike his face in the dark.
He looked at it. It was not at all dreamlike, but perfectly78 clear and solid-looking in the candlelight. He saw the hairy body, and the short, feathery antenn?, the jointed79 legs, even a place where the down was rubbed from the wing. He suddenly felt angry with himself for being afraid of a little insect.
His landlady had got the servant to sleep with her that night, because she was afraid to be alone. In addition she had locked the door, and put the chest of drawers against it. They listened and talked in whispers after they had gone to bed, but nothing occurred to alarm them. About eleven they had ventured to put the candle out, and had both dozed80 off to sleep. They woke up with a start, and sat up in bed, listening in the darkness.
Then they heard slippered81 feet going to and fro in Hapley’s room. A chair was overturned, and there was a violent dab82 at the wall. Then a china 153mantel ornament83 smashed upon the fender. Suddenly the door of the room opened, and they heard him upon the landing. They clung to one another, listening. He seemed to be dancing upon the staircase. Now he would go down three or four steps quickly, then up again, then hurry down into the hall. They heard the umbrella-stand go over, and the fanlight break. Then the bolt shot and the chain rattled84. He was opening the door.
They hurried to the window. It was a dim grey night; an almost unbroken sheet of watery85 cloud was sweeping86 across the moon, and the hedge and trees in front of the house were black against the pale roadway. They saw Hapley, looking like a ghost in his shirt and white trousers, running to and fro in the road, and beating the air. Now he would stop, now he would dart87 very rapidly at something invisible, now he would move upon it with stealthy strides. At last he went out of sight up the road towards the down. Then, while they argued who should go down and lock the door, he returned. He was walking very fast, and he came straight into the house, closed the door carefully, and went quietly up to his bedroom. Then everything was silent.
“Mrs. Colville,” said Hapley, calling down the staircase next morning. “I hope I did not alarm you last night.”
“You may well ask that!” said Mrs. Colville.
154“The fact is, I am a sleep-walker, and the last two nights I have been without my sleeping mixture. There is nothing to be alarmed about, really. I am sorry I made such an ass9 of myself. I will go over the down to Shoreham, and get some stuff to make me sleep soundly. I ought to have done that yesterday.”
But half-way over the down, by the chalk-pits, the moth came upon Hapley again. He went on, trying to keep his mind upon chess problems, but it was no good. The thing fluttered into his face, and he struck at it with his hat in self-defence. Then rage, the old rage—the rage he had so often felt against Pawkins—returned once more. He went on, leaping and striking at the eddying88 insect. Suddenly he trod on nothing, and fell headlong.
There was a gap in his sensations, and Hapley found himself sitting on the heap of flints in front of the opening of the chalk-pits, with a leg twisted back under him. The strange moth was still fluttering round his head. He struck at it with his hand, and turning his head saw two men approaching him. One was the village doctor. It occurred to Hapley that this was lucky. Then it came into his mind, with extraordinary vividness, that no one would ever be able to see the strange moth except himself, and that it behoved him to keep silent about it.
Late that night, however, after his broken leg was set, he was feverish89 and forgot his self-restraint. 155He was lying flat on his bed, and he began to run his eyes round the room to see if the moth was still about. He tried not to do this, but it was no good. He soon caught sight of the thing resting close to his hand, by the night-light, on the green table-cloth. The wings quivered. With a sudden wave of anger he smote90 at it with his fist, and the nurse woke up with a shriek91. He had missed it.
“That moth!” he said; and then, “It was fancy. Nothing!”
All the time he could see quite clearly the insect going round the cornice and darting92 across the room, and he could also see that the nurse saw nothing of it and looked at him strangely. He must keep himself in hand. He knew he was a lost man if he did not keep himself in hand. But as the night waned93 the fever grew upon him, and the very dread94 he had of seeing the moth made him see it. About five, just as the dawn was grey, he tried to get out of bed and catch it, though his leg was afire with pain. The nurse had to struggle with him.
On account of this, they tied him down to the bed. At this the moth grew bolder, and once he felt it settle in his hair. Then, because he struck out violently with his arms, they tied these also. At this the moth came and crawled over his face, and Hapley wept, swore, screamed, prayed for them to take it off him, unavailingly.
156The doctor was a blockhead, a half-qualified general practitioner95, and quite ignorant of mental science. He simply said there was no moth. Had he possessed96 the wit, he might still, perhaps, have saved Hapley from his fate by entering into his delusion and covering his face with gauze, as he prayed might be done. But, as I say, the doctor was a blockhead, and until the leg was healed Hapley was kept tied to his bed, and with the imaginary moth crawling over him. It never left him while he was awake and it grew to a monster in his dreams. While he was awake he longed for sleep, and from sleep he awoke screaming.
So now Hapley is spending the remainder of his days in a padded room, worried by a moth that no one else can see. The asylum97 doctor calls it hallucination; but Hapley, when he is in his easier mood, and can talk, says it is the ghost of Pawkins, and consequently a unique specimen98 and well worth the trouble of catching99.
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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imp
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controversies
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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geologists
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| 地质学家，地质学者( geologist的名词复数 ) | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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animates
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| v.使有生气( animate的第三人称单数 )；驱动；使栩栩如生地动作；赋予…以生命 | |
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investigator
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| n.研究者，调查者，审查者 | |
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impeachment
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| n.弹劾；控告；怀疑 | |
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defective
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| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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ineptitude
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| n.不适当；愚笨，愚昧的言行 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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skilful
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rhetoric
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ridicule
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antagonism
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tormented
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moth
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| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
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coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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malignant
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brutal
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moths
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utterly
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influenza
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pneumonia
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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controversy
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scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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satire
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abide
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dodge
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antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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cylindrical
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| adj.圆筒形的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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monograph
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| n.专题文章，专题著作 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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microscopic
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| adj.微小的，细微的，极小的，显微的 | |
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denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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fauna
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| n.(一个地区或时代的)所有动物，动物区系 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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poising
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| 使平衡( poise的现在分词 )； 保持（某种姿势）； 抓紧； 使稳定 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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caterpillars
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| n.毛虫( caterpillar的名词复数 )；履带 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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lichen
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| n.地衣, 青苔 | |
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mimicry
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| n.（生物）拟态，模仿 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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wrangled
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| v.争吵，争论，口角( wrangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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versed
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| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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jointed
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| 有接缝的 | |
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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slippered
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| 穿拖鞋的 | |
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dab
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| v.轻触，轻拍，轻涂；n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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eddying
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| 涡流，涡流的形成 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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98
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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