Читать книгу THE PILGRIM'S REGRESS (Philosophical & Psychological Novel) - C. S. Lewis - Страница 21

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The swamp-literature of the Dirty Twenties

‘Perhaps,’ said Gus, ‘someone else would give us a song.’

‘I will,’ cried thirty voices all together: but one cried much louder than the others and its owner had stepped into the middle of the room before anyone could do anything about it. He was one of the bearded men and wore nothing but a red shirt and a cod-piece made of the skins of crocodiles: and suddenly he began to beat on an African tom-tom and to croon with his voice, swaying his lean, half-clad body to and fro and staring at them all, out of eyes which were like burning coals. This time John saw no picture of an Island at all. He seemed to be in a dark green place full of tangled roots and hairy vegetable tubes: and all at once he saw in it shapes moving and writhing that were not vegetable but human. And the dark green grew darker, and a fierce heat came out of it: and suddenly all the shapes that were moving in the darkness came together to make a single obscene image which dominated the whole room. And the song was over.

‘Priceless,’ said the Clevers. ‘Too stark! Too virile.’

John blinked and looked round; and when he saw all the Clevers as cool as cucumbers, smoking their cigarettes and drinking the drinks that looked like medicines, all as if nothing remarkable had happened, he was troubled in his mind; for he thought that the song must have meant something different to them, and ‘If so,’ he argued, ‘what very pure-minded people they must be.’ Feeling himself among his betters, he became ashamed.

‘You like it, hein?’ said the bearded singer.

‘I—I don’t think I understood it,’ said John.

‘I make you like it, hein,’ said the singer, snatching up his tom-tom again. ‘It was what you really wanted all the time.’

‘No, no,’ cried John. ‘I know you are wrong there. I grant you, that—that sort of thing—is what I always get if I think too long about the Island. But it can’t be what I want.’

It was a low-brow blunder to mention the most obvious thing about it

‘No? Why not?’

‘If it is what I wanted, why am I so disappointed when I get it? If what a man really wanted was food, how could he be disappointed when the food arrived? As well, I don’t understand——’

‘What you not understand? I explain to you.’

‘Well, it’s like this. I thought that you objected to Mr. Halfways’ singing because it led to brown girls in the end.’

‘So we do.’

‘Well, why is it better to lead to black girls in the beginning?’

A low whistle ran round the whole laboratory. John knew he had made a horrible blunder.

‘Look here,’ said the bearded singer in a new voice, ‘what do you mean? You are not suggesting that there is anything of that kind about my singing, are you?’

‘I—I suppose—perhaps it was my fault,’ stammered John.

‘In other words,’ said the singer, ‘you are not yet able to distinguish between art and pornography!’ and advancing towards John very deliberately, he spat in his face and turned to walk out of the room.

‘That’s right, Phally,’ cried the Clevers, ‘serve him right.’

‘Filthy-minded little beast,’ said one.

‘Yah! Puritanian!’ said a girl.

‘I expect he’s impotent,’ whispered another.

‘You mustn’t be too hard on him,’ said Gus. ‘He is full of inhibitions and everything he says is only a rationalization of them. Perhaps he would get on better with something more formal. Why don’t you sing, Glugly?’