Aldous Huxley

“ The theatre vestibules brightly glared. It was an unaristocratic and vulgar luxury, to which Gregory had no difficulty in feeling himself superior. Through his Cyclopean monocle, he gazed enguiringly at every woman they passed. He felt wonderfully reckless (the queasiness was the merest suspicion of an unpleasant sensation) , wonderfully jolly and—yes, that was curious—large: larger than life. As for Molly Voles, he'd teach her.
'Lovely creature, that,' he said, indicating a cloak of pink silk and gold, a close-cropped golden head.
Spiller nodded, indifferently. ”

“ And how seldom circumstances were favourable to Gregory's eyeglass! Sometimes his environment was too sordid for it, sometimes too smart. To wear a monocle in the presence of the poor, the miserable, the analphabetic is too triumphantly pointed a comment on their lot. Moreover, the poor and the analphabetic have a most deplorable habit of laughing decisively at such symbols of superior caste. Gregory was not laughter-proof; he lacked the lordly confidence and unawareness of nature's monocle-wearers. ”

“ But this knowledge is organized and given a form, it is even actually increased and deepened, when Shakespeare talks about all our yesterdays having, lighted fools the way to dusty death.'
Gregory was trying to think of an excuse for giving his companion the slip and turning back to dally with the three. ”

“ Molly Voles. He had not seen her before; she must have only just arrived.
'I've got a capital idea for a new paper,' began Spiller.
'Have you?' Gregory did not show much curiosity. How beautiful her neck was, and those thin arms!
'Art, literature and science,' Spiller continued. 'The idea's a really modern one. It's to bring science into touch with the arts and so into touch with life. Life, art, science—all three would gain. You see the notion?'
'Yes,' said Gregory, 'I see.' He was looking at Molly, hoping to catch her eye. ”

“ Paxton had called him Polypheme because of his monocle: Polypheme, the one-eyed, wheel-eyed Cyclops. Tit for mythological tat. In future, he would always call Paxton Silenus.
'Bravo!' shouted Paxton. Gregory winced and gasped under a second, heartier slap. 'Pretty high class, this party. Eh, Hermione? Pretty cultured, what? It isn’t every day that a hostess can hear her guests shooting Greco-Roman witticisms at one another. I congratulate you, Hermione.' He put his arm round her waist. ”

“ And the suspicion of queasiness was becoming well founded.
Spiller did not hear or, hearing, ignored the remark. 'For me,' he continued, 'the main function of art is to impart knowledge. The artist knows more than the rest of us. He is born knowing more about his soul than we know of ours, and more about the relations existing between his soul and the cosmos. He anticipates what will be common knowledge in a higher state of development. Most of our moderns are primitives compared to the most advanced of the dead.'
'Quite,' said Gregory, not listening. ”

“ He averted his eyes, he let fall his eyeglass. It was a weapon he did not dare or know how to use—it made him look ridiculous. He was like horse-faced Mrs. Labadie flirting coquettishly with her fan.
I'd like to discuss the question in any case,' he said to Spiller, glad of any excuse to escape from those eyes. 'But I assure you I really can't. . . . Not the whole thousand, at any rate,' he added, feeling despairingly that he had been forced against his will to surrender.
'Molly!' shouted the professional drunkard. ”

“ His friends declared that he might actually have been a Georgian celebrity, but for the fact that he preferred talking to writing.
'Just up for the day,' explained Spiller. 'I couldn't stand another hour of the bloody country. Working all day. No company but my own. I find I bore myself to death.' He helped himself to whisky.
'Jesus! The great man! Ha, ha!' The professional drunkard covered his face with his hands and shuddered violently.
'Do you mean to say you came specially for this?' asked Gregory, waving his hand to indicate the party at large. ”

“ At Cairo, the ranks of the corn stood up like a plumed immortal army,
We drifted on in a sunset of rosy heat.
There was a flatboat hanging alongside laden with green melons,
A passion-flower vine upon a whitewashed wall.
At St. Louis we waited all morning with the roar of the trucks cutting across the cobbles,
The river swirling through the great arches of the bridge above us,
The mules flicking their ears against the flies. ”

“ And so he has, of course, just to be on the safe side. But in reality, it's obvious, the man thinks of himself as a sort of Musset or up to date Byron. A beautiful soul, darkened and embittered by experience. Ugh!
Still pretending to be unaware of the professional boozer's proximity, Gregory went through the actions of the man who sips.
'How clear you make it!' Mrs. Labadie was saying, point blank, into the young mathematician's face. She smiled at him; the horse, thought Gregory, has a terribly human expression. ”

“ Woodland without, whisky within combined to make Gregory's malancholy vocal. Che farò senz' Euridice? he softly sang.
'You can do without her very well,' said Spiller replying to the quotation. 'That's the swindle and stupidity of love. Each time you feel convinced that it's something immensely significant and everlasting: you feel infinitely. Each time. Three weeks later, you're beginning to find her boring; or somebody else rolls the eye and the infinite emotions are transferred and you're off on another eternal week-end. ”

“ Then Paxton withdrew his arm and leaned back in his corner of the sofa.
Looking at them, Gregory was suddenly convinced that they were lovers. We needs must love the lowest when we see it. All Molly's lovers were like that: ruffians.
He turned to Spiller. 'Shouldn't we go back to my rooms?' he suggested, interrupting him in the midst of a long explanatory discourse about the projected paper. 'It'll be quieter there and less stuffy.' Molly and Paxton, Molly and that drunken brute. Was it possible? It was certain; he had no doubts. 'Let's get out of this beastly place quickly,' he added. ”

“ He hiccoughed; a certain suspicion of queasiness tempered his jollity, but it was no more than the faintest suspicion. Yes, yes; he too knew all about life on steamers, even though the longest of his sea voyages had only been from Newhaven to Dieppe.
When they reached Cambridge Circus, the theatres were just disgorging their audiences. The pavements were crowded; the air was full of noise and the perfume of women. ”

“ That golden fluid—it seemed the only hope. Crane pointed in the direction of the archway leading into the back drawing-room. He raised his glass without speaking, drank and winked at Gregory over the top of it. He had a face that looked like an accident. Gregory oozed on through the crowd, 'Excuse me,' he said aloud; but inwardly he was saying, 'God help us.'
At the further end of the back drawing-room was a table with bottles and glasses. The professional drunkard was sitting on a sofa near by, glass in hand, making personal remarks to himself about all the people who came within earshot. ”

“ Ten Derbies, twenty Derbies, all half starved, walking through the streets with brass bands and banners. He let his monocle fall. Must send five pounds to the London Hospital, he thought. Four thousand eight hundred a year. Thirteen pounds a day. ”

“ Why does one come to parties, why on earth? Always the same boring people, the same dull scandal and one’s own same parlour tricks. Each time. But he smirked, he mimed, he fluted and bellowed his story through to the end. His auditors even laughed; it was a success. But Gregory felt ashamed of himself. Ransom began telling the story of Mrs. ”