IV
I
тАЬMiss Harding to see you, madam.тАЭ
Nell started. Twenty-four hours had elapsed since her interview with Vernon. She had thought it was finished. And now Jane!
She was afraid of Jane.
She might refuse to see her.
She said: тАЬShow her up here.тАЭ
It was more private up here in her own sitting room.
What a long time it was waiting. Had Jane gone away again? No, here she was.
She looked very tall. Nell cowered down on the sofa. Jane had a wicked faceтБатАФshe had always thought so. There was a look on her face now as of an avenging Fury.
The butler left the room. Jane stood towering over Nell. Then she flung back her head and laughed.
тАЬDonтАЩt forget to ask me to the christening,тАЭ she said.
Nell flinched. She said haughtily:
тАЬI donтАЩt know what you mean?тАЭ
тАЬItтАЩs a family secret at present, is it? Nell, you damned little liarтБатАФyouтАЩre not going to have a child. I donтАЩt believe you ever will have a childтБатАФtoo much risk and pain. What made you think of telling Vernon such a peculiarly damnable lie?тАЭ
Nell said sullenly: тАЬI never told him. HeтБатАФhe guessed.тАЭ
тАЬThatтАЩs even more damnable.тАЭ
тАЬI donтАЩt know what you mean coming here andтБатАФand saying things like this.тАЭ
Her protest sounded weakтБатАФspiritless. For the life of her she couldnтАЩt put the necessary indignation into it. With anyone elseтБатАФnot with Jane. Jane had always been disagreeably clear-eyed. It was awful! If only Jane would go away.
She rose to her feet, trying to sound decisive.
тАЬI donтАЩt know why you have come here. If it is only to make a sceneтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ
тАЬListen, Nell. YouтАЩre going to hear the truth. You chucked Vernon once before. He came to me. YesтБатАФto me. He lived with me for three months. He was living with me when you came to my flat that day. Ah! that hurts you. YouтАЩve still got a bit of raw womanhood left in you, IтАЩm glad to see.
тАЬYou took him from me then. He went to you and never gave me a thought. HeтАЩs yours now if you want him. But I tell you this, Nell, if you let him down a second time, heтАЩll come to me again. Oh! yes, he will. YouтАЩve thought things about me in your mindтБатАФturned up your nose at me as тАШa certain kind of woman.тАЩ Well, because of that, perhaps, IтАЩve got power. I know more about men than you will ever learn. I can get Vernon if I want him. And I do want him. I always have.тАЭ
Nell shuddered. She turned her face away, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.
тАЬWhy do you tell me all this? YouтАЩre a devil.тАЭ
тАЬI tell it you to hurt you! To hurt you like hell before itтАЩs too late. No, you shanтАЩt turn your head away. You shanтАЩt shrink away from what IтАЩm telling you. YouтАЩve got to look at me and seeтБатАФyes, seeтБатАФwith your eyes and your heart and your brain.тБатАКтБатАж You love Vernon with the last remaining corner of your miserable little soul. Think of him in my armsтБатАФthink of his lips on mine, of his kisses burning my body.тБатАКтБатАж Yes, you shall think of it.
тАЬSoon you wonтАЩt mind even that. But you mind now.тБатАКтБатАж ArenтАЩt you enough of a woman to jib at handing over the man you love to another woman? To a woman you hate? тАШA present for Jane with love from Nell.тАЩтАКтАЭ
тАЬGo away,тАЭ said Nell faintly. тАЬGo away.тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩm going. ItтАЩs not too late. You can undo the lie you told.тАЭ
тАЬGo away.тБатАКтБатАж Go away.тАЭ
тАЬDo it soonтБатАФor youтАЩll never do it.тАЭ Jane paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder. тАЬI came for VernonтАЩs sakeтБатАФnot mine. I want him back. And I shall have himтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ she paused, тАЬunlessтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ
She went out.
Nell sat with her hands clenched.
She murmured fiercely: тАЬShe shanтАЩt have him. She shanтАЩt.тАЭ
She wanted Vernon. She wanted him. He had loved Jane once. He would love her again. What had she said? тАЬтАж┬аhis lips on mineтБатАКтБатАж his kisses burning myтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ Oh, God, she couldnтАЩt bear it. She started upтБатАФmoved towards the telephone.
The door opened. She turned slowly. George came in. He looked very normal and cheerful.
тАЬHullo, sweetheart.тАЭ He crossed the room and kissed her. тАЬHere I amтБатАФback again. A nasty crossing. IтАЩd rather have the Atlantic than the Channel any day.тАЭ
She had completely forgotten that George was coming home today! She couldnтАЩt tell him this minuteтБатАФit would be too cruel. And besides it was so difficultтБатАФto burst in with the tragic news in the middle of a flow of banalities. This eveningтБатАФlater. In the meantime she would play her part.
She returned his embrace mechanically, sat down and listened while he talked.
тАЬIтАЩve got a present for you, honey. Something that reminded me of you.тАЭ
He took a velvet case from his pocket.
Inside, on a bed of white velvet, lay a big rose-coloured diamondтБатАФexquisite, flawlessтБатАФdepending from a long chain. Nell gave a little gasp of pleasure.
He lifted the jewel from the case and slipped the chain over her head. She looked down. The exquisite rose-coloured stone blinked up at her from its resting place between her breasts. Something about it hypnotized her.
He led her to the glass. She saw a golden-haired beautiful woman, very calm and elegant. She saw the waved and shingled hair, the manicured hands, the foamy negligee of soft lace, the cobweb-silk stockings and little embroidered mules. She saw the hard cold beauty of the rose-coloured diamond.
And behind them she saw George ChetwyndтБатАФkindly, generous, deliciously safe.
Dear George, she couldnтАЩt hurt him.тБатАКтБатАж
Kisses.тБатАКтБатАж What, after all, were kisses? You neednтАЩt think about them. Better not to think of them.
VernonтБатАКтБатАж JaneтБатАКтБатАж
She wouldnтАЩt think of them. For good or evil sheтАЩd made her choice. There would be bad moments sometimes, but on the whole it would be for the best. Better for Vernon too. If she werenтАЩt happy she couldnтАЩt make him happy.
She said gently: тАЬYou are a dear to bring me such a lovely present. Ring for tea. WeтАЩll have it up here.тАЭ
тАЬThat will be fine. But werenтАЩt you going to telephone to someone? I interrupted you.тАЭ
She shook her head.
тАЬNo,тАЭ she said, тАЬIтАЩve changed my mind.тАЭ
II
Letters from Vernon Deyre to Sebastian Levinne
Do you know that there was once a legend in Russia that concerned a тАЬnameless beastтАЭ that was coming?
I mention this not because of any political significance (by the way, the Antichrist hysteria is curious, isnтАЩt it?) but because it reminded me of my own terror of тАЬthe Beast.тАЭ IтАЩve thought about тАЬthe BeastтАЭ a great deal since coming to RussiaтБатАФtrying to get at its true significance.
Because thereтАЩs more in it than just being afraid of a piano. The doctor in London opened my eyes to a great many things. IтАЩve begun to see that all through my life IтАЩve been a coward. I think youтАЩve known that, Sebastian. You wouldnтАЩt put it in that offensive way, but you hinted as much to me once. IтАЩve run away from things.тБатАКтБатАж Always IтАЩve run away from things.
And thinking it all over now, I see the Beast as something symbolicalтБатАФnot a mere piece of furniture composed of wood and wires. DonтАЩt mathematicians say that the future exists at the same time as the past?тБатАФthat we travel through time as we travel through space?тБатАФfrom a thing that is to another thing that is? DonтАЩt some even hold that remembering is a mere habit of the mindтБатАФthat we could remember forward as well as back if we had only learnt the trick of it? It sounds nonsense when I say it, but I believe there is some theory of that kind.
I believe that there is some part of us that does know the future, that is always intimately aware of it.
That explains, doesnтАЩt it, why we should shrink sometimes? The burden of our destiny is going to be heavy and we recoil from its shadow. I tried to escape from musicтБатАФbut it got me. It got me at that concert, in the same way that religion got those people at the Salvation Army meeting.
ItтАЩs a devilish thingтБатАФor is it godlike? If so itтАЩs an Old Testament jealous GodтБатАФall the things IтАЩve tried to cling on to have been swept away. Abbots PuissantsтБатАКтБатАж NellтБатАКтБатАж
And, damn it all, whatтАЩs left? Nothing. Not even the cursed thing itself. IтАЩve no wish to write music. I hear nothingтБатАФfeel nothing. Will it ever come back? Jane says it will. She seems very sure. She sends her love to you, by the way.
III
YouтАЩre an understanding devil, Sebastian. You donтАЩt complain that I ought to have written you a description of samovars, the political situation and life in Russia generally. The country, of course, is in a bloody muddle. What else could it be in? But itтАЩs jolly interesting.тБатАКтБатАж
Love from Jane.
IV
Jane was right to bring me here. Point No.┬а1, no one is likely to come across me here and joyously proclaim my resurrection from the dead. Point No.┬а2, this is about the most interesting place in the world to be from my point of view. A kind of free and easy laboratory where everyone is trying experiments of the most dangerous kind. The whole world seems concerned with Russia from a purely political point of view. Economics, starvation, morals, lack of liberty, diseased and decadent childrenтБатАКтБатАж etc.
But amazing things are sometimes born out of vice and filth and anarchy. The whole trend of Russian thought in art is extraordinaryтБатАКтБатАж part of it the most utter childish drivel you ever heardтБатАФand yet wonderful gleams peeping throughтБатАФlike shining flesh through a beggarтАЩs ragsтБатАКтБатАж
The Nameless BeastтБатАФCollective Man. Did you ever see that plan for a monument to the Communist Revolution? The Colossus of Iron? I tell you, it stirs the imagination.
MachineryтБатАФan Age of Machinery.тБатАКтБатАж How the Bolsheviks worship anything to do with machineryтБатАФand how little they know about it! ThatтАЩs why itтАЩs so wonderful to them, I suppose. Imagine a real mechanic of Chicago composing a dynamic poem describing his city as тАЬтАж┬аbuilt upon a screw! Electro dynamo mechanical city! Spiral-shaped on a steel disc. At every stroke of the hour turning round itselfтБатАФFive thousand skyscrapersтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ Anything more alien from the spirit of America!
And yetтБатАФdo you ever see a thing when youтАЩre too close to it? ItтАЩs the people who donтАЩt know machinery who see its soul and its meaning. The Nameless Beast.тБатАКтБатАж My Beast?тБатАКтБатАж I wonder.
Collective ManтБатАФforming himself in turn into a vast machine. The same herd instinct that saved the race of old coming out again in a different form.
LifeтАЩs becoming too difficultтБатАФtoo dangerousтБатАФfor the individual. What was it Dostoevsky says in one of his books?
тАЬThe flock will collect again and submit once more, and then it will be forever, forever. We will give them a quiet modest happiness.тАЭ
Herd instinct.тБатАКтБатАж I wonder.
V
I have found the other passage in Dostoevsky. I think it is the one you mean.
тАЬAnd we alone, we who guard the mystery, we alone shall be unhappy. There will be thousands of millions of happy children and only a hundred thousand martyrs who have taken on themselves the curse of good and evil.тАЭ
You mean, and Dostoevsky meant, that there must always be individualists. It is the individualists who carry on the torch. Men welded into a vast machine must ultimately perish. For the machine is soulless and will end as scrap iron.
Men worshipped stone and built StonehengeтБатАФand today, the men who built it have perished and are unknown and Stonehenge stands. And yet, by a paradox, the men are alive in you and me, their descendants, and Stonehenge and what it stood for, is dead. The things that die endure, and the things that endure perish.
It is Man that goes on forever. (Does he? IsnтАЩt that unwarrantable arrogance? Yet we believe it!) And so, there must be individualists behind the Machine. So Dostoevsky says and so you say. But then youтАЩre both Russians. As an Englishman IтАЩm more pessimistic.
Do you know what that passage from Dostoevsky reminds me of? My childhood. Mr.┬аGreenтАЩs hundred childrenтБатАФand Poodle, Squirrel and Tree. Representatives of the hundred thousand.
VI
I suppose youтАЩre right. I never have thought much before. It seemed to me an unprofitable exercise. In fact, IтАЩm not sure I donтАЩt still regard it as such.
The trouble is, you see, that I canтАЩt тАЬsay it in music.тАЭ Damn it all, why canтАЩt I say it in music? MusicтАЩs my job. IтАЩm more sure of that than ever. And yetтБатАФnothing doing.
ItтАЩs hell.
VII
Dear Sebastian:
HavenтАЩt I mentioned Jane? What is there to say about her? SheтАЩs splendid. We both know that. Why donтАЩt you write to her yourself?
VIII
Dear old Sebastian:
Jane says you may be coming out here. I wish to God you would. IтАЩm sorry I havenтАЩt written for six monthsтБатАФI never was one of the worldтАЩs ready letter writers.
Have you seen anything of Joe? IтАЩm glad Jane and I looked her up passing through Paris. JoeтАЩs staunch, sheтАЩll never split on us, and IтАЩm glad she at any rate knows. We never write to each other, she and I, we never have. But I wondered if youтАЩd heard anything. I didnтАЩt think she looked awfully fit. Poor old Joe! SheтАЩs made a mess of things.
Have you heard anything of TatlinтАЩs scheme for a monument to the Third Internationale? To consist of a union of three great glass chambers connected by a system of vertical axes and spirals. By means of special machinery they were to be kept in perpetual motion but at different rates of speed.
And inside, I suppose, theyтАЩd sing hymns to a Holy Acetylene Blowpipe!
Do you remember, one night, we were motoring back to town, and we took the wrong turning somewhere amongst the tramlines of Lewisham, and instead of making for the haunts of civilization we turned up somewhere among the Surrey docks and through an opening in the frowsy houses we saw a queer kind of cubist picture of cranes and cloudy steam and iron girders. And immediately your artistic soul bagged it for a drop sceneтБатАФor whatever the technical term is.
My God, Sebastian! What a magnificent spectacle of machinery you could build upтБатАФsheer effects and lightingтБатАФand masses of humans with inhuman facesтБатАФmassтБатАФnot individuals. YouтАЩve something of the kind in mind, havenтАЩt you?
The architect, Tatlin, said something that I think good and yet a lot of nonsense.
тАЬOnly the rhythm of the metropolis, of factories and machines together with the organization of the masses, can give the impulse to the new artтБатАФтАЭ
And he goes on to speak of the тАЬmonument of the machine,тАЭ the only adequate expression of the present.
You know, of course, all about the modern Russian Theatre. ThatтАЩs your job. I suppose Mayerhold is as marvellous as they say he is. But can one mix up drama and propaganda?
All the same, itтАЩs exciting to arrive at a theatre and be compelled at once to join a marching crowdтБатАФup and down, in strict step, till the performance beginsтБатАФand the scenery, composed of rocking chairs and cannons and revolving bays and God knows what! ItтАЩs babyishтБатАФabsurdтБатАФand yet one feels that baby has got hold of a dangerous and rather interesting toy that in other handsтБатАКтБатАж
Your hands, SebastianтБатАФyouтАЩre a Russian. But thank heaven and geography, no propagandistтБатАФjust a showman pure and simpleтБатАКтБатАж
The Rhythm of the metropolisтБатАФmade pictorial.
My God!тБатАФif I could give you the music. ItтАЩs the music thatтАЩs needed.
LordтБатАФtheir тАЬnoise orchestrasтАЭтБатАФtheir symphonies of factory sirens! There was a show at Baku in 1922тБатАФbatteries of artillery, machine-guns, choirs, naval fog horns. Ridiculous! Yes, but if they had a composerтБатАКтБатАж
No woman ever longed for a child like I long to produce music.
And IтАЩm barrenтБатАФsterile.
IX
Dear Sebastian:
It seems like a dream, your having come and gone. Will you really do The Tale of the Rogue Who Outwitted Three Other Rogues? I wonder.
IтАЩm only just beginning to recognize what a howling success youтАЩve made of things. IтАЩve at last grasped that youтАЩre simply it nowadays. Yes, found your National Opera HouseтБатАФGod knows itтАЩs time we had one. But what do you want with opera? ItтАЩs archaicтБатАФdeadтБатАФridiculous individual love affairsтБатАКтБатАж
Music up to now seems to me like a childтАЩs drawing of a houseтБатАФfour walls, a door, two windows and a chimney pot. There you areтБатАФand what more do you want!
At any rate Feinberg and Prokofiev do more than that.
Do you remember how we used to jeer at the cubists and futurists? At least I did. Now that I come to think of it, I donтАЩt believe you agreed.
And then one dayтБатАФat a cinemaтБатАФI saw a view of a big city from the air. Spires turning over, buildings bendingтБатАФeverything behaving as one simply knew concrete and steel and iron couldnтАЩt behave! And for the first time I got a glimmering of what old Einstein meant when he talked about relativity.
We donтАЩt know anything about the shape of music, We donтАЩt know anything about the shape of anything, for that matterтБатАФbecause thereтАЩs always one side open to space.
Some day youтАЩll know what I meanтБатАФwhat music can meanтБатАФwhat IтАЩve always known it meant.
What a mess that opera of mine was. All opera is a mess. Music was never intended to be representational. To take a story and write descriptive music to it is as wrong as to write a passage of musicтБатАФin the abstract so to speakтБатАФand then find an instrument capable of playing it! When Stravinsky wrote a clarinet passage, you canтАЩt even conceive of it as being played by anything else!
Music should be like mathematicsтБатАФa pure science, untouched by drama, or romanticism, or any emotion other than the pure emotion which is the result of sound divorced from ideas.
IтАЩve always known that in my heart. Music must be Absolute.
Not, of course, that I shall realize my ideal. To create pure sound untouched by ideas is a counsel of perfection.
My music will be the music of machinery. I leave the dressing of it to you. ItтАЩs an age of choreography, and choreography will reach heights we donтАЩt as yet dream of. I can trust you with the visual side of my masterpiece as yet unwrittenтБатАФand which in all probability never will be written.
Music must be four-dimensionalтБатАФtimbre, pitch, relative speed and periodicity.
I donтАЩt think even now we appreciate Sch├╢nberg enough. That clean remorseless logic that is the spirit of today. He and he alone had the courage to disregard traditionтБатАФto get down to bedrock, and discover Truth.
HeтАЩs the one man to my mind who matters. Even his scheme of score writing will have to be adopted universally. ItтАЩs absolutely necessary if scores are going to be intelligible.
The thing I have against him is his scorn of his instruments. HeтАЩs afraid of being a slave to them. He makes them serve him whether they will or no.
IтАЩm going to glorify my instruments. IтАЩm going to give them what they wantтБатАФwhat theyтАЩve always wanted.
Damn it all, Sebastian, what is this strange thing, music? I know less and less.
X
I know I havenтАЩt written. IтАЩve been busy. Making experiments. Means of expression for the Nameless Beast. In other words, instrument making. Metals are jolly interesting. IтАЩm working with alloys just at present.
What a fascinating thing sound is.
Jane sends her love.
In answer to your questionтБатАФNo, I donтАЩt suppose I shall ever leave RussiaтБатАФnot even to attend at your newly planned opera house, disguised in my beard!
ItтАЩs even more barbarous and beautiful now than when you saw it! Full and flowing, the perfect temperamental Slav Beaver!
But in spite of the forest camouflage, here I am and here I stay, till I am exterminated by one of the bands of wild children.
Telegram from Vernon Deyre to Sebastian Levinne
Just heard Joe dangerously ill feared dying stranded in New York Jane and I sailing Resplendent hope see you London.