There were moments even in the opening phase of this great adventure of the Lord Paramount1 when it was difficult for him to believe himself true, but his sense of duty to those he was lifting out of their ten-year post-war lethargy made him conceal2 these instants — for there were no more than instants — of weakness from everyone about him, even from the faithful and sustaining Mrs. Pinchot and the indefatigable3 Hereward Jackson. His ordinary state of mind was one of profound, of almost exultant4 admiration5 for his own new vigour6 of purpose and action. He knew that his ascendency meant a march towards war, war on a vaster and handsomer scale than had ever yet illuminated7 the page of history. This might have dismayed a lesser8 soul. But he knew himself the successor of Napoleon and C?sar and Alexander and Sargon, adequate to the task before him. And he knew what history demands of great nations. His mission was to make history and to make it larger and heavier and with a greater displacement9 of the fluidities of life than it had ever been made before.
As he made it he wrote it in his mind. He saw his own record, the story of his war, towering up at the end of the great series of autobiographic war histories from Thucydides to Colonel Lawrence and Winston Churchill. Parham De Bella Asiatico. That he would do in the golden days of rest, after the victory. It was pleasant to anticipate those crowning literary hours amidst the stresses of present things. He would find himself making character sketches10 of himself and telling in the third person of his acts and decisions in the recognized style of such records.
It was queer at times how strongly his anticipations11 of this record imposed themselves upon his mind. There were phases and moments when he did not so much seem to be doing and experiencing things as relating them to himself.
It was manifest that among the most urgent of his duties was the rapid acquisition of a broad and exact knowledge of the equipment and possibilities of the armed forces of the Empire. Of these he had now to be the directive head, the supreme12 commander. On him would fall the ultimate responsibility in the day of battle. Other men might advise him, but it was he who must control, and who can control without adequate knowledge? Lucky for him that his mind was as swift as an eagle and that he could grasp the import of a scheme while lesser intelligences still struggled with its preliminary details.
He sought among ex-war ministers, sea lords, and high permanent officials in the combatant departments, for informants and experts with whom he could work. It was profoundly important to know and take the measure of all such men. And they had to know him, they had to experience his personal magnetism13 and be quick to understand and ready to obey him. At first there was some difficulty in getting the right tone. In all the fighting services there is an habitual14 distrust of politicians, an ingrained disposition15 to humbug16 and hoodwink interfering17 civilians18, and this tradition of reserve was sufficiently19 strong to retard20 their first surrender to the Lord Paramount’s charm and energy for some time.
Moreover, there were many restraints and reservations between different sections of the services that were hard to overcome. Most of these men betrayed not only the enthusiasm but the narrowness of the specialist’s concentrated mind. Air experts ridiculed21 battle ships; naval22 men showed a quiet contempt for the air; gas was a sore subject with nearly everybody; gunners considered everything else subsidiary to well directed gunfire, and the tank people despised sea, air, gunfire, and chemical warfare23 in nearly equal proportions. “We go through,” was their refrain. There were even men who held that the spearhead of warfare was propaganda and that the end to which all other operations must be directed was the production of a certain state of mind (variously defined and described) in the enemy government and population. The Empire was, in fact, partially24 prepared for every conceivable sort of warfare with every conceivable and many inconceivable antagonists25, and apart from a common contempt for pacificists as “damned fools” and for cosmopolitans26 as dreamers and scoundrels, its defenders27 did not as yet possess an idea in common to ensure their cooperation when the moment of conflict came.
Such were the fruits of our all too copious28 modern inventiveness and our all too destructive criticism of simple political issues. Such were the consequences of a disputatious parliamentary system and the lack of any single dominating will. The navy was experimenting with big submarines and little submarines, with submarines that carried aircraft inside them and submarines that could come out on land and even climb cliffs, with aircraft carriers and smoke screens, and new types of cruiser; the gunners were experimenting; the army was having a delightful29 time with tanks, little tanks and big tanks, hideous30 and ridiculous and frightful31 and stupendous tanks, tanks that were convertible32 at a pinch into barges33, and tanks that would suddenly expand wings and make long flying hops34, and tanks that became field kitchens and bathrooms; the air force killed its two young men or more a week with a patient regularity35, elaborating incredible stunts36; Gas Warfare was experimenting; each was going its own way irrespective of the others, each was doing its best to crab37 the others. The Lord Paramount went hither and thither38, inspecting contrivances that their promoters declared to be marvellous and meeting a series of oldish young and youngish old men, soured by the fermentation of extravagant39 hopes.
Sir Bussy, an unwilling40 consultant41 upon many of these expeditions, found a phrase for them so lacking in dignity that for a time it troubled the Lord Paramount’s mind.
“Like a lot of damned schoolboys,” said Sir Bussy, “mucking about with toy guns and chemical sets in an attic42. Each one on his own — just as disconnected as he can be. With unlimited43 pocket money. What do they think they are up to? What do they think it is for — all this damned militarism? They don’t know. They lost connection long ago, and there they are. They’ll just set the place on fire. What else do you expect of them?”
The Lord Paramount made no reply, but his swift mind tackled the challenge. He was capable of learning, even from an enemy.
“Lost connection,” that was the illuminating44 phrase.
Disconnected — that was the word. Because they had had no one and no great idea to marshal them in order and unify45 their efforts. They were the scattered46 parts of a great war machine which had quietly disarticulated itself after 1918 and followed its divergent traditions and instincts, and it was for him to assemble them into cooperation again. After that remark of Sir Bussy’s he knew exactly what to say to these forgotten and unhonoured experts. He knew the one thing of which they stood in need: Connection. To everyone he spoke47 of the nature of the campaign ahead and of the particular part to be played in it.
That was the magic touch for which they had been waiting. It was wonderful how these sorely neglected men brightened at his words. He made them see — Russia; he projected the minds of the airmen towards mighty48 raids amidst the mountains of central Asia and over the dark plains of eastern Europe; he lit the eyes of the special underseas services with the words “a relentless49 blockade”; he asked the mechanized soldiers how they would go over steppes and reminded them darkly of the prophetic fact that the first writing on the pioneer tank had been in Russian. To the naval men he spoke also of another task. “While we do our work in the Old World, you are the sure shield between us and the follies50 of the New.”
Yes, that meant America, but the word America was never said. America which might do anything, which might even go “modern” and break with history — even her own brief and limited history. The fewer years she was given to think before the crisis came, the better for the traditions of our old world.
Many of these brave, ingenious men to whom the Lord Paramount came were sick at heart with hope deferred52. Year by year they had invented, contrived53, and organized, and still the peace held. There were breezes, but these died away. These workers in the obscurity read pacificist articles in the newspapers; they heard continually of a League of Nations that was to make a futility54 of all the dear lethal55 inventions they had given the best of their years to perfect. A clamour for economies, the bitter ingratitude56 of retrenchment57, threatened them. He brought new life and hope to their despondent58 souls.
From amidst the miscellany of experts and officials the figure of a certain General Gerson emerged gradually to a sort of preeminence59. He emerged by a kind of innate60 necessity. He seemed to know more than the others and to have a more exhaustive knowledge. He had a genius for comprehensive war plans. There was something quintessential about him, as though he concentrated all that Mr. Parham had ever read, seen, thought, or felt about soldiers. Undeniably he had force. He was the man to whom it became more and more natural to turn in any doubtful matter. He was presently almost officially the Lord Paramount’s right hand in military things. It was not that the Lord Paramount chose him so much as that he arrived. He became the embodiment of the material side of power. He was the sword — or shall we say the hand grenade?— to the Lord Paramount’s guiding brain and will. He was his necessary complement61. He translated imperial vision into practical reality.
He was not exactly a prepossessing person. His solid worth had to be discovered without extraneous62 aid. He was sturdily built, short and rather thickset, with exceptionally long, large, and hairy hands. His head was small and bomb-shaped and covered with a wiry fuzz. His nose was short but not insignificant63, a concentrated, wilful64 nose. His mouth was large, vituperative65 in form when open, and accustomed to shut with emphasis. Generally he kept it shut. His bristling66 moustache was a concession67 to military tradition rather than an ornament68, and his yellow skin was blue spotted69 as the result of an accident with some new explosive powder. One eye, because of that same accident was of glass; it maintained an expression of implacable will, while its fellow, alert and bright brown, gathered information. His eyebrows70 were the fierce little brothers of his moustache. He wore uniform whenever he could, for he despised “mufti men,” but also he despised the splendours of full uniform. He liked to be a little soiled. He liked common and rather dirty food eaten standing71 with the fingers instead of forks, and he resorted to harsh and violent exercises to keep fit.
His fitness was amazing, a fierce fitness. “In this world,” he said, “the fittest survive.” But he despised the mawkish72 games of feebler men. In the country, when he could, he cut down trees with great swiftness and animosity or he pursued and threw over astonished and over-domesticated cows, rodeo fashion. In towns, he would climb swiftly up the backs of high houses and down again, or box, or work an electric drill and excavate73 and repave back yards. The electric drill bucked74 up the neighbours tremendously and created a hostile audience that was of use in checking any tendency to slack off. On such occasions he dressed lightly and exposed and ventilated an impressive breadth of hairy chest.
The Lord Paramount was more and more compelled by the logic75 of his own undertakings76 to respect and defer51 to this heroic associate as time went on, but he would not have looked like him for the lordship of a dozen worlds.
From the first the advice of General Gerson had something of the dictatorial77.
“You ought to do so and so,” he would say and add compactly, “they expect it of you.” And the Lord Paramount would realize that that was so.
It was, for example, borne in upon him through something in the bearing and tone of General Gerson that it behoved him to display a certain temerity78 in his attitude to the various new, ingenious, and frightful things that were being accumulated to ensure the peace of the Empire. It was not in the nature of the Lord Paramount to shrink from personal danger but he might have been disposed to husband his time and nervous energy in regard to those things, if it had not been for Gerson’s influence. Gerson was hard. And a ruler who rules Gersons must be hard also. A certain hardness is a necessary part of greatness. Good to be reminded of that. At times he found himself sustaining his own determination by talking to himself in quite the old Parham fashion. “I owe it to myself,” he said. “I owe it to the world.”
So he looped the loop over London, holding tight and keeping his face still and calm. He wore strange and dreadful-looking gas masks and went into chambers79 of vaporous abomination, where instant death would have been the result of a pin prick80 to his nozzle. It was a pity his intrepid81 face was so disguised, for it would have been well for weaker spirited men to mark its observant calm. Rather reluctantly he had to see a considerable number of cats, sheep, and dogs demoralized and killed by poison gas, the precious secret of General Gerson’s department, that Gas L of which Camelford had spoken, for which no antidote82 was known. It seemed to hurt damnably in the two or three minutes before the final collapse83. Unless all forms of animal expression are a lie, it was death by intolerable torture. “I owe it,” he repeated, for there was mercy in his nature.
“This gas we do not use,” he said firmly, “except as an ultimate resort.”
“War,” said Gerson, sighing contentedly84 as the last victim ceased to writhe85, “war IS an ultimate resort.”
The Lord Paramount made no answer because he felt he might be sick. He seemed to have Mr. Parham’s stomach, and very often in those feats86 of hardihood he had occasion to feel sick. He spent some chilly87 and clammy hours at the bottom of the Solent, and he raced at twenty miles an hour in a leaping, bumping tank across the rough of Liss Forest, and both occasions tested him out. He wore boules quiès and fired immense chest-flattening guns by touching88 a button, and he was wetted to the skin and made sickest of all by tearing down the Channel against a stiff south-wester at forty miles an hour in a new mystery boat that was three parts giant torpedo89.
“It was the lot of Nelson too,” he said, coming ashore90, greenly triumphant91 but empty to the depths of his being. “His heart kept in the right place even if his stomach betrayed him. . . .”
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1
paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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displacement
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| n.移置，取代，位移，排水量 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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anticipations
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| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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civilians
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| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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retard
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| n.阻止，延迟；vt.妨碍，延迟，使减速 | |
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ridiculed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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antagonists
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| 对立[对抗] 者，对手，敌手( antagonist的名词复数 )； 对抗肌； 对抗药 | |
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cosmopolitans
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| 世界性的( cosmopolitan的名词复数 )； 全球各国的； 有各国人的； 受各国文化影响的 | |
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defenders
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| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
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copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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convertible
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| adj.可改变的，可交换，同意义的；n.有活动摺篷的汽车 | |
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barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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hops
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| 跳上[下]( hop的第三人称单数 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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stunts
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| n.惊人的表演( stunt的名词复数 )；（广告中）引人注目的花招；愚蠢行为；危险举动v.阻碍…发育[生长]，抑制，妨碍( stunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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consultant
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| n.顾问；会诊医师，专科医生 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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unify
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| vt.使联合，统一；使相同，使一致 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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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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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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defer
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| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
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deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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futility
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| n.无用 | |
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lethal
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| adj.致死的；毁灭性的 | |
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ingratitude
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| n.忘恩负义 | |
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retrenchment
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| n.节省，删除 | |
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despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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preeminence
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| n.卓越,杰出 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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complement
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| n.补足物，船上的定员；补语；vt.补充，补足 | |
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extraneous
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| adj.体外的；外来的；外部的 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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vituperative
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| adj.谩骂的；斥责的 | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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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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mawkish
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| adj.多愁善感的的；无味的 | |
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excavate
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| vt.挖掘，挖出 | |
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bucked
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| adj.快v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的过去式和过去分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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undertakings
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| 企业( undertaking的名词复数 )； 保证； 殡仪业； 任务 | |
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dictatorial
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| adj. 独裁的，专断的 | |
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78
temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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79
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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80
prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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intrepid
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| adj.无畏的，刚毅的 | |
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82
antidote
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| n.解毒药，解毒剂 | |
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83
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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84
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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85
writhe
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| vt.挣扎，痛苦地扭曲；vi.扭曲，翻腾，受苦；n.翻腾，苦恼 | |
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86
feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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87
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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88
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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89
torpedo
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| n.水雷，地雷；v.用鱼雷破坏 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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91
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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