michael-第16部分

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ey　were　the　people　who　understood；　they　did　not　go　to　the　opera　as　a　be…diamonded　interlude　between　a　dinner　and　a　dance；　they　came　to　this　dreadful　little　town；　the　discomforts　of　which；　the　utter　provinciality　of　which　was　transformed　into　the　air　of　the　heavenly　Jerusalem；　as　Hermann　Falbe　had　said；　because　their　souls　were　fed　here　with　wine　and　manna。　　He　would　find　the　same　thing　at　Munich；　so　Falbe　had　told　him；　the　next　week。

The　loves　and　the　tragedies　of　the　great　titanic　forces　that　saw　the　making　of　the　world；　the　dreams　and　the　deeds　of　the　masters　of　Nuremberg；　above　all；　sacrifice　and　enlightenment　and　redemption　of　the　soul；　how；　except　by　music；　could　these　be　made　manifest？　　It　was　the　first　and　only　and　final　alchemy　that　could　by　its　magic　transformation　give　an　answer　to　the　tremendous　riddles　of　consciousness；　that　could　lift　you；　though　tearing　and　making　mincemeat　of　you；　to　the　serenity　of　the　Pisgah…top；　whence　was　seen　the　promised　land。　　It；　in　itself；　was　reality；　and　the　door…　keeper　who　admitted　you　into　that　enchanted　realm　was　the　spirit　of　Germany。　　Not　France；　with　its　little；　morbid　shiverings；　and　its　meat…market　called　love；　not　Italy；　with　its　melodious　declamations　and　tawdry　tunes；　not　Russia　even；　with　the　wind　of　its　impenetrable　winters；　its　sense　of　joys　snatched　from　its　eternal　frosts　gave　admittance　there；　but　Germany；　〃deep；　patient　Germany；〃　that　sprang　from　upland　hamlets；　and　flowed　down　with　ever…　broadening　stream　into　the　illimitable　ocean。

Here；　then；　were　two　of　the　initiations　that　had　come；　with　the　swiftness　of　the　spate　in　Alpine　valleys　at　the　melting　of　the　snow；　upon　Michael；　his　own　liberty；　namely；　and　this　new　sense　of　music。　　He　had　groped；　he　felt　now；　like　a　blind　man　in　that　direction；　guided　only　by　his　instinct；　and　on　a　sudden　the　scales　had　fallen　from　his　eyes；　and　he　knew　that　his　instinct　had　guided　him　right。　　But　not　less　epoch…making　had　been　the　dawn　of　friendship。　　Throughout　the　week　his　intimacy　with　Hermann　Falbe　had　developed；　shooting　up　like　an　aloe　flower；　and　rising　into　sunlight　above　the　mists　of　his　own　self…occupied　shyness；　which　had　so　darkly　beset　him　all　life　long。　　He　had　given　the　best　that　he　knew　of　himself　to　his　cousin；　but　all　the　time　there　had　never　quite　been　absent　from　his　mind　his　sense　of　inferiority；　a　sort　of　aching　wonder　why　he　could　not　be　more　like　Francis；　more　careless；　more　capable　of　enjoyment；　more　of　a　normal　type。　　But　with　Falbe　he　was　able　for　the　first　time　to　forget　himself　altogether；　he　had　met　a　man　who　did　not　recall　him　to　himself；　but　took　him　clean　out　of　that　tedious　dwelling　which　he　knew　so　well　and；　indeed；　disliked　so　much。　　He　was　rid　for　the　first　time　of　his　morbid　self…consciousness；　his　anchor　had　been　taken　up　from　its　dragging　in　the　sand；　and　he　rode　free；　buoyed　on　waters　and　taken　by　tides。　It　did　not　occur　to　him　to　wonder　whether　Falbe　thought　him　uncouth　and　awkward；　it　did　not　occur　to　him　to　try　to　be　pleasant；　a　job　over　which　poor　Michael　had　so　often　found　himself　dishearteningly　incapable；　he　let　himself　be　himself　in　the　consciousness　that　this　was　sufficient。

They　had　spent　the　morning　together　before　this　second　performance　of　Parsifal　that　closed　their　series；　in　the　woods　above　the　theatre；　and　Michael；　no　longer　blurting　out　his　speeches；　but　speaking　in　the　quiet；　orderly　manner　in　which　he　thought；　discussed　his　plans。

〃I　shall　come　back　to　London　with　you　after　Munich；〃　he　said；　〃and　settle　down　to　study。　　I　do　know　a　certain　amount　about　harmony　already；　I　have　been　mugging　it　up　for　the　last　three　years。　　But　I　must　do　something　as　well　as　learn　something；　and；　as　I　told　you；　I'm　going　to　take　up　the　piano　seriously。〃

Falbe　was　not　attending　particularly。

〃A　fine　instrument；　the　piano；〃　he　remarked。　　〃There　is　certainly　something　to　be　done　with　a　piano；　if　you　know　how　to　do　it。　　I　can　strum　a　bit　myself。　　Some　keys　are　harder　than　othersthe　black　notes。〃

〃Yes；　what　of　the　black　notes？〃　asked　Michael。

〃Oh！　they're　black。　　The　rest　are　white。　　I　beg　your　pardon！〃

Michael　laughed。

〃When　you　have　finished　drivelling；〃　he　said；　〃you　might　let　me　know。〃

〃I　have　finished　drivelling；　Michael。　　I　was　thinking　about　something　else。〃

〃Not　really？〃

〃Really。〃

〃Then　it　was　impolite　of　you；　but　you　haven't　any　manners。　　I　was　talking　about　my　career。　　I　want　to　do　something；　and　these　large　hands　are　really　rather　nimble。　　But　I　must　be　taught。　　The　question　is　whether　you　will　teach　me。〃

Falbe　hesitated。

〃I　can't　tell　you；〃　he　said；　〃till　I　have　heard　you　play。　　It's　like　this：　I　can't　teach　you　to　play　unless　you　know　how；　and　I　can't　tell　if　you　know　how　until　I　have　heard　you。　　If　you　have　got　that　particular　sort　of　temperament　that　can　put　itself　into　the　notes　out　of　the　ends　of　your　fingers；　I　can　teach　you；　and　I　will。　But　if　you　haven't；　I　shall　feel　bound　to　advise　you　to　try　the　Jew's　harp；　and　see　if　you　can　get　it　out　of　your　teeth。　　I'm　not　mocking　you；　I　fancy　you　know　that。　　But　some　people；　however　keenly　and　rightly　they　feel；　cannot　bring　their　feelings　out　through　their　fingers。　　Others　can；　it　is　a　special　gift。　　If　you　haven't　got　it；　I　can't　teach　you　anything；　and　there　is　no　use　in　wasting　your　time　and　mine。　　You　can　teach　yourself　to　be　frightfully　nimble　with　your　fingers；　and　all　the　people　who　don't　know　will　say：　'How　divinely　Lord　Comber　plays！　　That　sweet　thing；　is　it　Brahms　or　Mendelssohn？'　　But　I　can't　really　help　you　towards　that；　you　can　do　that　for　yourself。　　But　if　you've　got　the　other；　I　can　and　will　teach　you　all　that　you　really　know　already。〃

〃Go　on！〃　said　Michael。

〃That's　just　the　devil　with　the　piano；〃　said　Falbe。　　〃It's　the　easiest　instrument　of　all　to　make　a　show　on；　and　it　is　the　rarest　sort　of　person　who　can　play　on　it。　　That's　why；　all　those　years；　I　have　hated　giving　lessons。　　If　one　has　to；　as　I　have　had　to；　one　must　take　any　awful　miss　with　a　pigtail；　and　make　a　sham　pianist　of　her。　　One　can　always　do　that。　　But　it　would　be　waste　of　time　for　you　and　me；　you　wouldn't　want　to　be　made　a　sham　pianist；　and　simply　I　wouldn't　make　you　one。〃

Michael　turned　round。

〃Good　Lord！〃　he　said；　〃the　suspense　is　worse　than　I　can　bear。　Isn't　there　a　piano　in　your　room？　　Can't　we　go　down　there；　and　have　it　over？〃

〃Yes；　if　you　wish。　　I　can　tell　at　once　if　you　are　capable　of　playingat　least；　whether　I　think　you　are　capable　of　playing　whether　I　can　teach　you。〃

〃But　I　haven't　touched　a　piano　for　a　week；〃　said　Michael。

〃It　doesn't　matter　whether　you've　touched　a　piano　for　a　year。〃

Michael　had　not　been　prevented　by　the　economy　that　made　him　travel　second…class　from　engaging　a　carriage　by　the　day　at　Baireuth；　since　that　clearly　was　worth　while；　and　they　found　it　waiting　for　them　by　the　theatre。　　There　was　still　time　to　drive　to　Falbe's　lodging　and　get　through　this　crucial　ordeal　before　the　opera；　and　they　went　straight　there。　　A　very　venerable　instrument；　which　Falbe　had　not　yet　opened；　stood　against　the　wall；　and　he　struck　a　few　notes　on　it。

〃Completely　out　of　tune；〃　he　said；　〃but　that　doesn't　matter。　　Now　then！〃

〃But　what　am　I　to　play？〃　asked　Michael。

〃Anything　you　like。〃

He　sat　down　at　the　far　end　of　the　room；　put　his　long　legs　up　on　to　another　chair　and　waited。　　Michael　sent　a　despairing　glance　at　that　gay　face；　suddenly　grown　grim；　and　took　his　seat。　　He　felt　a　paralysing　conviction　that　Falbe's　judgment；　whatever　that　might　turn　out　to　be；　would　be　right；　and　the　knowledge　turned　his　fingers　stiff。　　From　the　few　notes　that　Falbe　had　struck　he　guessed　on　what　sort　of　instrument　his　ordeal　was　to　take　place；　and　yet　he　knew　that　Falbe　himself　would　have　been　able　to　convey　to　him　the　sense　that　he　could　play；　though　the　piano　was　all　out　of　tune；　and　there　might　be　dumb；　disconcerting　notes　in　it。　　There　was　justice　in　Falbe's　dictum　about　the　temperament　that　lay　behind　the　player；　which　would　assert　itself　through　any　faultiness　of　instrument；　and　through；　so　he　suspected；　any　faultiness　of　execution。

He　struck　a　chord；　and　heard　it　jangle　dissonantly。

〃Oh；　it's　not　fair；〃　he　said。

〃Get　on！〃　said　Falbe。

In　spite　of　Germany　there　occurred　to　Michael　a　Chopin　prelude；　at　which　he　had　worked　a　little　during　the　last　two　months　in　London。　The　notes　he　knew　perfectly；　he　had　believed　also　that　he　had　found　a　certain　conception　of　it　as　a　whole；　so　that　he　could　make　something　coherent　out　of　it；　not　merely　adding　bar　to　correct　bar。　And　he　began　the　soft　repetition　of　chord…quavers　with　which　it　opened。

Then　after　stumbling　wretchedly　through　two　lines　of　it；　he　suddenly　forgot　himself　and　Falbe；　and　the　squealing　unresponsive　notes。　　He　heard　them　no　more；　absorbed　in　the　knowledge　of　what　he　meant　by　them；　of　the　mood　which　they　produced　in　him。　　His　great；　ungainly　hands　had　all　the　gentleness　and　self…control　that　strength　gives；　and　the　finger…filling　chords　were　as　light　and　as　fine　as　the　settling　of　some　poised　bird　on　a　bough。　　In　the　last　few　lines　of　the　prelude　a　deep　bass　note　had　to　be　struck　at　the　beginning　of　each　bar；　this　Michael　found　was　completely　dumb；　but　so　clear　and　vivid　was　the　effect　of　it　in　his　mind　that　he　scarcely　noticed　that　it　returned　no　answer　to　his　finger。　。　。　。　At　the　end　he　sat　without　moving；　his　hands　dropped　on　to　his　knees。

Falbe　got　up　and；　coming　over　to　the　piano；　struck　the　bass　note　himself。

〃Yes；　I　knew　it　was　dumb；〃　he　said；　〃but　you　made　me　think　it　wasn't。　。　。　。　　You　got　quite　a　good　tone　out　of　it。〃

He　paused　a　moment；　again　striking　the　dumb　note；　as　if　to　make　sure　that　it　was　soundless。

〃Yes；　I'll　teach　you；〃　he　said。　　〃All　the　technique　you　have　got；　you　know；　is　wrong　from　beginning　to　end；　and　you　mustn't　mind　unlearning　all　that。　　But　you've　got　the　thing　that　matters。〃


All　this　stewed　and　seethed　in　Michael's　mind　as　he　sat　that　night　by　the　window　looking　out　on　to　the　silent　and　empty　street。　　His　thoughts　flowed　without　check　or　guide　from　his　will；　wandering　wherever　their　course　happened　to　take　them；　now　lingering；　like　the　water　of　a　river　in　some　deep；　still　pool；　when　he　thought　of　the　friendship　that　had　come　into　his　life；　now　excitedly　plunging　down　the　foam　of　swift…flowi