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in collaboration by a don and a〃
〃Drunkard； eh？〃 suggested Moses Gould； beginning to enjoy himself。
〃I rather think；〃 proceeded Inglewood with an unruffled
and critical air； 〃that this part was written by the don。
I merely warn the Court that the statement； though indubitably accurate；
bears here and there the trace of coming from two authors。〃
〃In that case；〃 said Dr。 Pym； leaning back and sniffing；
〃I cannot agree with them that two heads are better than one。〃
〃The undersigned persons think it needless to touch on a kindred
problem so often discussed at committees for University Reform：
the question of whether dons see double because they are drunk；
or get drunk because they see double。 It is enough for them
（the undersigned persons） if they are able to pursue their own peculiar
and profitable themewhich is puddles。 What （the undersigned
persons ask themselves） is a puddle？ A puddle repeats infinity；
and is full of light； nevertheless； if analyzed objectively；
a puddle is a piece of dirty water spread very thin on mud。
The two great historic universities of England have all this large
and level and reflective brilliance。 Nevertheless； or； rather； on the
other hand； they are puddlespuddles； puddles； puddles； puddles。
The undersigned persons ask you to excuse an emphasis inseparable
from strong conviction。〃
Inglewood ignored a somewhat wild expression on the faces of some present；
and continued with eminent cheerfulness：
〃Such were the thoughts that failed to cross the mind of
the undergraduate Smith as he picked his way among the stripes
of canal and the glittering rainy gutters into which the water
broke up round the back of Brakespeare College。 Had these thoughts
crossed his mind he would have been much happier than he was。
Unfortunately he did not know that his puzzles were puddles。
He did not know that the academic mind reflects infinity and is full
of light by the simple process of being shallow and standing still。
In his case； therefore； there was something solemn； and even evil
about the infinity implied。 It was half…way through a starry
night of bewildering brilliancy； stars were both above and below。
To young Smith's sullen fancy the skies below seemed even hollower
than the skies above； he had a horrible idea that if he counted
the stars he would find one too many in the pool。
〃In crossing the little paths and bridges he felt like one stepping
on the black and slender ribs of some cosmic Eiffel Tower。 For to him；
and nearly all the educated youth of that epoch； the stars were cruel things。
Though they glowed in the great dome every night； they were an enormous
and ugly secret； they uncovered the nakedness of nature； they were a glimpse
of the iron wheels and pulleys behind the scenes。 For the young men
of that sad time thought that the god always comes from the machine。
They did not know that in reality the machine only comes from the god。
IN short； they were all pessimists； and starlight was atrocious to them
atrocious because it was true。 All their universe was black with white spots。
〃Smith looked up with relief from the glittering pools below
to the glittering skies and the great black bulk of the college。
The only light other than stars glowed through one peacock…green
curtain in the upper part of the building； marking where
Dr。 Emerson Eames always worked till morning and received
his friends and favourite pupils at any hour of the night。
Indeed； it was to his rooms that the melancholy Smith was bound。
Smith had been at Dr。 Eames's lecture for the first half of the morning；
and at pistol practice and fencing in a saloon for the second half。
He had been sculling madly for the first half of the afternoon
and thinking idly （and still more madly） for the second half。
He had gone to a supper where he was uproarious； and on to a debating
club where he was perfectly insufferable； and the melancholy
Smith was melancholy still。 Then； as he was going home to his
diggings he remembered the eccentricity of his friend and master；
the Warden of Brakespeare； and resolved desperately to turn
in to that gentleman's private house。
〃Emerson Eames was an eccentric in many ways； but his throne
in philosophy and metaphysics was of international eminence；
the university could hardly have afforded to lose him； and； moreover；
a don has only to continue any of his bad habits long enough
to make them a part of the British Constitution。 The bad habits
of Emerson Eames were to sit up all night and to be a student
of Schopenhauer。 Personally； he was a lean； lounging sort of man；
with a blond pointed beard； not so very much older than his
pupil Smith in the matter of mere years； but older by centuries
in the two essential respects of having a European reputation
and a bald head。
〃‘I came； against the rules； at this unearthly hour；' said Smith； who was
nothing to the eye except a very big man trying to make himself small；
‘because I am coming to the conclusion that existence is really too rotten。
I know all the arguments of the thinkers that think otherwisebishops；
and agnostics； and those sort of people。 And knowing you were the greatest
living authority on the pessimist thinkers'
〃‘All thinkers；' said Eames； ‘are pessimist thinkers。'
〃After a patch of pause； not the firstfor this depressing conversation
had gone on for some hours with alternations of cynicism and silence
the Warden continued with his air of weary brilliancy： ‘It's all a question
of wrong calculation。 The most flies into the candle because he doesn't
happen to know that the game is not worth the candle。 The wasp gets
into the jam in hearty and hopeful efforts to get the jam into him。
IN the same way the vulgar people want to enjoy life just as they want
to enjoy ginbecause they are too stupid to see that they are paying too big
a price for it。 That they never find happinessthat they don't even know
how to look for itis proved by the paralyzing clumsiness and ugliness
of everything they do。 Their discordant colours are cries of pain。
Look at the brick villas beyond the college on this side of the river。
There's one with spotted blinds； look at it！ just go and look at it！'
〃‘Of course；' he went on dreamily； ‘one or two men see the sober
fact a long way offthey go mad。 Do you notice that maniacs mostly
try either to destroy other things； or （if they are thoughtful）
to destroy themselves？ The madman is the man behind the scenes；
like the man that wanders about the coulisse of a theater。
He has only opened the wrong door and come into the right place。
He sees things at the right angle。 But the common world'
〃‘Oh； hang the common world！' said the sullen Smith； letting his fist
fall on the table in an idle despair。
〃‘Let's give it a bad name first；' said the Professor calmly；
‘and then hang it。 A puppy with hydrophobia would probably struggle
for life while we killed it； but if we were kind we should kill it。
So an omniscient god would put us out of our pain。
He would strike us dead。'
〃‘Why doesn't he strike us dead？' asked the undergraduate abstractedly；
plunging his hands into his pockets。
〃‘He is dead himself；'