George's brother

2021年1月22日发(作者：宫本言)


George
’
s Brother

Somerset Maugham

When I was a very small boy I was made to learn by heart certain of the
fables of La Fontaine, and the moral of each was carefully explained to
me.
Among
those
learned
was
The
Ant
and
the
Grasshopper
,
which
is
devised
to bring home to the young the useful lesson that in an imperfect world
industry is rewarded and giddiness punished. In this admirable fable (I
apologize
for
telling
something
which
everyone
is
politely,
but
inexactly,
supposed
to
know)

the
ant
spends
a
laborious
summer
gathering
its
winter
store,
while
the
grasshopper
sits
on
a
blade
of
grass
singing
to
the
sun.
Winter
comes
and
the
ant
is
comfortably
provided
for,
but
the
grasshopper
has an empty larder; he goes to the ant and begs for a little food. Then
the ant gives him her classic answer:
“
What were you doing in the summer time?
”

“
Saving your presence, I sang, I sang all day, all night.
”

“
You sang. Why, then go and dance.
”

I do not ascribe it to perversity on my part, but rather to the
inconsequence of childhood, which is deficient in moral sense, that I
could
never
quite
reconcile
myself
to
the
lesson.
My
sympathies
were
with
the grasshopper and for some time I never saw an ant without putting my
foot
on
it.
In
this
summary
(and
I
have
discovered
since,
entirely
human)
fashion
I
sought
to
express
my
disapproval
of
prudence
and
common-sense.
I could not help thinking of this fable when the other day I saw George
Ramsay lunching by himself in a restaurant. I never saw anyone wear an
expression of such deep gloom. He was staring into space. He looked as
though the burden of the whole world sat on his shoulders. I was sorry
for
him.
I
suspected
at
once
that
his
unfortunate
brother
had
been
causing
trouble again. I went up to him and held out my hand.
“
How are you?
”
I asked.
“
I
’
m not in hilarious spirits,
”
he answered.
“
Is it Tom again?
”

He sighed.
“
Yes, it
’
s Tom again.
”

“
Why
don
’
t
you
chuck
him? You
’
ve
done
everything
in
the
world
for
him.
You must know by now that he
’
s quite hopeless.
”

I suppose every family has a black sheep. Tom had been a sore trial to
his for twenty years. He had begun life decently enough: he went into
business, married and had two children. The Ramsays were perfectly
respectable
people
and
there
was
every
reason
to
suppose
that
Tom
Ramsay
would have a useful and honorable career. But one day, without warning,
he announced that he didn
’
t like work and that he wasn
’
t suited for

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marriage.
He
wanted
to
enjoy
himself.
He
would
listen
to
no
expostulations.
He left his wife and his office. He had a little money and he spent two
happy years in the various capitals of Europe. Rumours of his doings
reached
his
relations
from
time
to
time
and
they
were
profoundly
shocked.
He certainly had a very good time. They shook their heads and asked what
would happen when his
money was spent.
They soon found
out: he borrowed.
He was charming and unscrupulous. I have never met anyone to whom it was
more
difficult
to
refuse
a
loan.
He
made
a
steady
income
form
his
friends
and he made friends easily. But he always said that the money you spent
on necessities was boring; the money that was amusing to spend was the
money you spent in
luxuries. For
this
he depended
on his brother
George.
He
did
not
waste
his
charm
on
him.
George
was
a
serious
man
and
insensible
to such enticements. George was respectable. Once or twice he fell to
Tom
’
s
promises
of
amendment
and
gave
him
considerable
sums
in
order
that
he
might
make
a
fresh
start.
On
these
Tom
bought
a
motor-car
and
some
very
nice jewelry. But when circumstances force George to realize that his
brother would never settle down and he washed his hands of him. Tom,
without a qualm, began to blackmail him. It was not very nice for a
respectable lawyer to find his brother shaking cocktails behind the bar
of his favourite restaurant or to see him waiting on the box-seat of a
taxi outside his club.
Tom said that
to
serve in
a bar or to
drive a taxi
was a perfectly decent occupation, but if George could oblige him with
a couple of hundred pounds, he didn
’
t mind for the honour of the family
giving it up. George paid.
Once Tom nearly went to prison. George was terribly upset. He went into
the
whole
discreditable
affairs.
Really
Tom
had
gone
too
far.
He
had
been
wild, thoughtless and selfish, but he had never before done anything
dishonest, by which George meant illegal; and if he were prosecuted he
would assuredly be convicted. But you cannot allow your only brother to
go
to
gaol.
The
man
Tom
had
cheated,
a
man
called
Cronshaw,
was
vindictive.
He
was
determined
to
take
the
matter
into
court;
he
said
Tom
was
a
scoundrel
and should be punished. It cost George an infinite deal of trouble and
five hundred pounds to settle the affair. I have never seen him in such
a rage as when he heard that Tom and Cronshaw had gone off together to
Monte Carlo the moment they cashed the cheque. They spent a happy month
there.
For
twenty
years
Tom
raced
and
gambled,
philandered
with
prettiest
girls,
danced, ate in the most expensive restaurants, and dressed beautifully.
He always looked as if he had just stepped out of a bandbox. Though he
was forty-six you would never have taken him for more than thirty-five.
He was a most amusing companion and though you knew he was perfectly
worthless you could not but enjoy his society. He had high spirits, an
unfailing
gaiety
and
incredible
charm.
I
never
grudged
the
contributions
he regularly levied on me for the necessities of his existence. I never

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