Mike Fletcher by George Moore (ebook pc reader .txt) 📕

"I Couldn't Go Back To Aunt; She Wouldn't Take Me Back; Besides,  I

Want To Remain In London For The Present."

Before She Left Mike Filled The Astonished Child's Hands With Money,

And As She Paused Beneath His Window He Threw Some Flowers Towards

Her,  And Listened To Her Laughter Ringing Through The Pale Morning.

Now The Night Was A Fading Thing,  And The Town And Thames Lay In The

Faint Blue Glamour Of The Dawn. Another Day Had Begun,  And The Rattle

Of A Morning Cart Was Heard. Mike Shut The Window,  Hesitating Between

Throwing Himself Out Of It,  And Going To Bed.

"As Long As I Can Remember,  I Have Had These Fits Of Depression,  But

Now They Never Leave Me; I Seem More Than Ever Incapable Of Shaking

Them Off."

Then He Thought Of The Wickedness He Had Done,  Not Of The Wickedness

Of His Life--That Seemed To Him Unlimited,--But Of The Wickedness

Accomplished Within The Last Few Hours,  And He Wondered If He Had

Done Worse In Cheating The Young Man At Cards Or Giving The Money He

Had Won To Flossy. "Having Tasted Of Money,  She Will Do Anything To

Obtain More. I Suppose She Is Hopelessly Lost,  And Will Go From Bad

To Worse. But Really I Don't See That I Am Wholly Responsible. I

Advised Her To Go Home,  I Could Do No More. But I Will Get Her Aunt's

Address And Write To Her. Or I Will Inform Some Of The Philanthropic

People."

A Few Days After,  He Came In Contact With Some. Their Fervour

Awakened Some Faint Interest In Him,  And Now,  As Weary Of Playing At

Mephistopheles As He Was Of Playing At Faust,  He Followed The

Occupation Of His New Friends. But His Attempts At Reformation Were

Vain,  They Wore Out The Soul,  And Left It Only More Hopeless Than

Before; And He Remembered John Norton's Words,  That Faith Is A Gift

From God Which We Must Cherish,  Or He Will Take It From Us Utterly;

And Sighing,  Mike Recognized The Great Truth Underlying A Primitive

Mode Of Expression. He Had Drifted Too Far Into The Salt Sea Of

Unfaith And Cynicism,  Ever To Gain Again The Fair If Illusive Shores

Of Aspiration--Maybe Illusive,  But No More Illusive Than The Cruel

Sea That Swung Him Like A Wreck In Its Current,  Feeding Upon Him As

The Sea Feeds. Nor Could He Make Surrender Of His Passion Of Life,

Saying--

"I See Into The Heart Of Things,  I Know The Truth,  And In The Calm

Possession Of Knowledge Am Able To Divest Myself Of My Wretched

Individuality,  And So Free Myself Of All Evils,  Seeking In

Absorption,  Rather Than By Violent Ends,  To Rid Myself Of

Consciousness."

But This,  The Religion Of The Truly Wise,  Born In The Sublime East,

Could Find No Roothold In Mike Fletcher--That Type And Epitome Of

Western Grossness And Lust Of Life. Religions Being A Synthesis Of

Moral Aspirations,  Developed Through Centuries,  Are Mischievous And

Untrue Except In The Circumstances And Climates In Which They Have

Grown Up,  And Native Races Are Decimated Equally By The Importation

Of A Religion Or A Disease. True It Is That Christianity Was A

Product Of The East,  But It Was An Accidental And Inferior Offshoot

From The Original Religion Of The Race,  Not Adapted To Their Needs,

And Fitted Only For Exportation. And Now,  Tainted And Poisoned By A

Thousand Years Of Habitation In The West,  Christianity Returns To The

East,  Virulent And Baneful As Small-Pox,  A Distinctly Demoralizing

Influence,  Having Power Only To Change Excellent Buddhists Into

Prostitutes And Thieves. And In Such A Way,  According To The Same

Laws,  Mike Had Observed,  Since He Had Adopted Pessimism,  Certain

Unmistakable Signs In Himself Of Moral Degeneracy.

He Had Now Exhausted All Nature's Remedies,  Save One--Drink,  And He

Could Not Drink. Drink Has Often Rescued Men,  In Straits Of Mental

Prostration,  From The Charcoal-Pan,  The Pistol,  And The River. But

Mike Could Not Drink,  And Nature Sought In Vain To Re-Adjust Again,

And Balance Anew,  Forces Which Seemed Now Irretrievably Disarranged.

All The Old Agencies Were Exhausted,  And The New Force,  Which Chance,

Co-Operating With Natural Disposition,  Had Introduced,  Was Dominant

In Him. Against It Women Were Now Powerless,  And He Turned Aside From

Offered Love.

It Is Probable That The Indirect Influences To Which We Have Been

Subjected Before Birth Outweigh The Few Direct Influences Received By

Contagion With Present Life. But The Direct Influences,  Slight As

They May Be,  Are Worth Considering,  They Being The Only Ones Of Which

We Have Any Exact Knowledge,  Even If In So Doing We Exaggerate Them;

And In Striving To Arrive At A Just Estimation Of The Forces That Had

Brought About His Present Mind,  Mike Was In The Habit Of Giving

Prominence To The Thought Of The Demoralizing Influence Of The

Introduction Of Eastern Pessimism Into A Distinctly Western Nature.

He Remembered Very Well Indeed The Shock He Had Received When He Had

Heard John Say For The First Time That It Was Better That Human Life

Should Cease.

"For Man's History,  What Is It But The History Of Crime? Man's Life,

What Is It But A Disgraceful Episode In The Life Of One Of The

Meanest Of The Planets? Let Us Be Thankful That Time Shall Obliterate

The Abominable,  And That Once Again The World Shall Roll Pure Through

The Silence Of The Universe."

So John Had Once Spoken,  Creating Consternation In Mike's Soul,

Casting Poison Upon It. But John Had Buried Himself In Catholicism

For Refuge From This Awful Creed,  Leaving Mike To Perish In It. Then

Mike Wondered If He Should Have Lived And Died A Simple,  Honourable,

God-Fearing Man,  If He Had Not Been Taken Out Of The Life He Was Born

In,  If He Had Married In Ireland,  For Instance,  And Driven Cattle To

Market,  As Did His Ancestors.

One Day Hearing The Organ Singing A Sweet Anthem,  He Stayed To

Listen. It Being Midsummer,  The Doors Of The Church Were Open,  The

Window Was In His View,  And The Congregation Came Streaming Out Into

The Sunshine Of The Courts,  Some Straying Hither And Thither,  Taking

Note Of The Various Monuments. In Such Occupation He Spoke To One

Whom He Recognized At Once As A Respectable Shop-Girl. He Took Her

Out To Dinner,  Dazzled And Delighted Her With A Present Of Jewelry,

Enchanted Her With Assurances Of His Love. But When Her Manner

Insinuated An Inclination To Yield,  He Lost Interest,  And Wrote

Saying He Was Forced To Leave Town. Soon After,  He Wrote To A Certain

Actress Proposing To Write A Play For Her. The Proposal Was Not Made

With A View To Deceiving Her,  But Rather In The Intention Of Securing

Their Liaison Against Caprice,  By Involving In It Various Mutual

Advantages. For Three Weeks They Saw Each Other Frequently; He

Wondered If He Loved Her,  He Dreamed Of Investing His Talents In Her

Interest,  And So Rebuilding The Falling Edifice Of His Life.

"I Could Crush An Affection Out Of My Heart As Easily As I Could Kill

A Fly," She Said.

"Ah!" He Said,  "My Heart Is As Empty As A Desert,  And No Affection

Shall Enter There Again."

An Appointment Was Made To Go Out To Supper,  But He Wrote Saying He

Was Leaving Town To Be Married. Nor Was His Letter A Lie. After Long

Hesitations He Had Decided On This Step,  And It Seemed To Him Clear

That No One Would Suit Him So Well As Mrs. Byril. By Marrying An Old

Mistress,  He Would Save Himself From All The Boredom Of A Honeymoon.

And Sitting In The Drawing-Room,  In The Various Pauses Between

Numerous Licentious Stories,  They Discussed Their Matrimonial

Project.

Dear Emily,  Who Said She Suffered From Loneliness And Fear Of The

Future As Acutely As He,  Was Anxious To Force The Matter Forward. But

Her Eagerness Begot Reluctance In Mike,  And At The End Of A Week,  He

Felt That He Would Sooner Take His Razor And Slice His Head Off,  Than

Live Under The Same Roof With Her.

In Regent Street One Evening He Met Frank Escott. After A Few

Preliminary Observations Mike Asked Him If He Had Heard Lately From

Lord Mount Rorke. Frank Said That He Had Not Seen Him. All Was Over

Between Them,  But His Uncle Had,  However,  Arranged To Allow Him Two

Hundred A Year. He Was Living At Mortlake,  "A Nice Little House; Our

Neighbour On The Left Is A City Clerk At A Salary Of Seventy Pounds A

Year,  On The Right Is A Chemist's Shop; A Very Nice Woman Is The

Chemist's Wife; My Wife And The Chemist's Wife Are Fast Friends. We

Go Over And Have Tea With Them,  And They Come And Have Tea With Us.

The Chemist And I Smoke Our Pipes Over The Garden Wall. All This

Appears Very Dreadful To You,  But I Assure You I Have More Real

Pleasure,  And Take More Interest In My Life,  Than Ever I Did Before.

My Only Trouble Is The Insurance Policy--I Must Keep That Paid Up,

For The Two Hundred A Year's Only An Annuity. It Makes A Dreadful

Hole In Our Income. You Might Come Down And See Us."

"And Be Introduced To The Chemist's Wife!"

"There's No Use In Trying To Come It Over Me; I Know Who You Are. I

Have Seen You Many Times About The Roads In A Tattered Jacket. You

Mustn't Think That Because All The Good Luck Went Your Way,  And All

The Bad Luck My Way,  That I'm Any Less A Gentleman,  Or You Any Less A

----"

"My Dear Frank,  I'm Really Very Sorry For What I Said; I Forgot. I

Assure You I Didn't Mean To Sneer. I Give You My Word Of Honour."

They Walked Around Piccadilly Circus,  Edging Their Way Through The

Women,  That The Sultry Night Had Brought Out In White Dresses. It Was

A Midnight Of White Dresses And Fine Dust; The Street Was As Clean As

A Ball-Room; Like A Pure Dream The Moon Soared Through The Azure

Infinities,  Whitening The Roadway; The Cabmen Loitered,  Following

Those Who Showed Disposition To Pair; Groups Gathered Round The

Lamp-Posts,  And Were Dispersed By Stalwart Policemen. "Move On,  Move

On,  If You Please,  Gentlemen!"

Frank Told Mike About The Children. He Had Now A Boy Five Years Old,

"Such A Handsome Fellow,  And He Can Read As Well As You Or I Can.

He's Down At The Sea-Side Now With His Mother. He Wrote Me Such A

Clever Letter,  Telling Me He Had Just Finished _Robinson Crusoe_,  And

Was Going To Make A Start On _Gulliver's Travels_. I'm Crazy About My

Boy. Talk Of Being Tired Of Living,  My Trouble Is That I Shall Have

To Leave Him One Day."

Mike Thought Frank's Love Of His Son Charming,  And He Regretted He

Could Find In His Own Heart No Such Simple Sentiments! Every Now And

Then He Turned To Look After A Girl,  And Pulling His Moustache,

Muttered--

"Not Bad!"