And even Edward Burden’s imagination is moved by these very desires and
that very fear--or else he would not have dreamt of marrying. I repeat,
marriage is an imaginative institution. It’s true that his imagination
is a poor thing but it is genuine nevertheless. The faculty of which
I speak is of one kind in all of us. Not to every one is given that
depth of feeling, that faculty of absolute trust which _will not_ be
deceived, and the exulting masterfulness of the senses which are the
mark of a fearless lover. Fearless lovers are rare, if obstinate, and
sensual fools are countless as grains of sand by the seashore. I can
imagine that correct young man perfectly capable of setting himself
deliberately to worry a distracted girl into surrender.
VI
I don’t know why, to-night in particular, the fact that I am a dead man
occurs to me very insistently. I had forgotten this for two whole days.
If any one very dear to you has ever been _in extremis_ at a distance
and you have journeyed to be at the last bedside, you will know how
possible this is--how for hours at a time the mind will go wandering
away from the main fact that is drawing you onwards, till suddenly it
comes back: someone is dying at a distance. And I suppose one’s I is
the nearest friend that one has--and my I is dying at a distance. At
the end of a certain number of days is the deathbed towards which I am
hurrying--it is a fact which I cannot grasp. But one aspect grows more
clear to me every time I return to this subject.
You remember that, when we have discussed suicide, we have agreed that
to the man of action death is a solution: to the man of thoughts it
is none. For the man of action expresses himself in action, and death
is the negation of action: the man of thought sees the world only in
thoughts, and over thought death exercises no solution of continuity.
If one dies one’s actions cease, one’s problem continues. For that
reason it is only in so far as I am a man of action that I shall be
dying. You understand what I mean--for I do not mean that it is my
actions that have killed me. It is simply because I have taken refuge
from my thoughts in action, and because after April 5 that refuge will
be closed to me, that I take refuge in a final action which, properly
speaking, is neither action nor refuge.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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