wgolding.lordoftheflies-第4部分

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merges　spontaneously　out　of　childish　play；　but　it　es　to　serve　as　a　key　to　psychology　underlying　human　conflict　and；　of　course；　an　effective　symbol　for　the　bloody　game　we　have　played　throughout　our　history。　This　is　not　to　say　that　Biblical　metaphor　is　unimportant　in　Lord　of　the　Flies；　or　in　the　later　works；　but　it　forms　only　a　part　of　the　larger　mythic　frame　in　which　Golding　sees　the　nature　and　destiny　of　man。
　
　14。　R。　P。　Winnington…Ingram；　Euripides　and　Dionysus：　An　Interpretation　of　the　Bacchae　（Cambridge；　England：　Cambridge　University　Press；　1948）；　pp。　9…10。
　15。　See　Ian　Gregor　and　Mark　Kinkead…Weekes；　〃The　Strange　Case　of　Mr。　Golding　and　his　Critics；〃　Twentieth　Century。　167　（February；　1960）；　118。
　
　Unfortunately；　the　critics　have　concentrated　all　too　much　on　Golding's　debt　to　Christian　sources；　with　the　result　that　he　is　popularly　regarded　as　a　rigid　Christian　moralist　Yet　the　fact　is　that　he　does　not　reject　one　orthodoxy　only　to　fall　into　another。　The　emphasis　of　his　critics　has　obscured　Gold…ing's　fundamental　realism　and　made　it　difficult　to　recognize　that　he　satirizes　the　Christian　as　well　as　the　rationalist　point　of　view。　In　Lord　of　the　Flies；　for　example；　the　much　discussed　last　chapter　offers　none　of　the　traditional　forts。　A　fable；　by　virtue　of　its　far…reaching　suggestions；　touches　upon　a　dimension　that　most　fiction　does　not…the　dimension　of　prophecy。　With　the　appearance　of　the　naval　officer　it　is　no　longer　possible　to　accept　the　evolution　of　the　island　society　as　an　isolated　failure。　The　events　we　have　witnessed　constitute　a　picture　of　realities　which　obtain　in　the　world　at　large。　There；　too；　a　legendary　beast　has　emerged　from　the　dark　wood；　e　from　the　sea；　or　fallen　from　the　sky；　and　men　have　gathered　for　the　munion　of　the　hunt。　In　retrospect；　the　entire　fable　suggests　a　grim　parallel　with　the　prophecies　of　the　Biblical　Apocalypse。　According　to　that　vision　the　weary　repetition　of　human　failure　is　assured　by　the　birth　of　new　devils　for　each　generation　of　men。　The　first　demon；　who　fathers　all　the　others；　falls　from　the　heavens；　the　second　is　summoned　from　the　sea　to　make　war　upon　the　saints　and　overe　them；　the　third；　emerging　from　the　earth　itself；　induces　man　to　make　and　worship　an　image　of　the　beast。　It　also　decrees　that　this　image　〃should　both　speak　and　cause　that　as　many　as　should　not　worship〃　the　beast　should　be　killed。　Each　devil　in　turn　lords　over　the　earth　for　an　era；　and　then　the　long　nightmare　of　history　is　broken　by　the　second　ing　and　the　divine　millennium。　In　Lord　of　the　Flies　（note　some　of　the　chapter　tides）　we　see　much　the　same　sequence；　but　it　occurs　in　a　highly　accelerated　evolution。　The　parallel　ends；　however；　with　the　irony　of　Golding's　climactic　revelation。　The　childish　hope　of　rescue　perishes　as　the　beast…man　es　to　the　shore；　for　he　bears　in　his　nature　the　bitter　promise　that　things　will　remain　as　they　are；　and　as　they　have　been　since　his　first　appearance　ages　and　ages　ago。
　The　rebirth　of　evil　is　made　certain　by　the　fatal　defects　inherent　in　human　nature；　and　the　haunted　island　we　occupy　must　always　be　a　fortress　on　which　enchanted　hunters　pursue　the　beast。　There　is　no　rescue。　The　making　of　history　and　the　making　of　myth　are　finally　the　selfsame　process…an　old　process　in　which　the　soul　makes　its　own　place；　its　own　reality。
　In　spite　of　its　rich　and　varied　metaphor　Lord　of　the　Flies　is　not　a　bookish　fable；　and　Golding　has　warned　that　he　will　concede　little　or　nothing　to　The　Golden　Bough。16　There　are　real　dangers　in　ignoring　this　disclaimer。　To　do　so　obscures　the　contemporary　relevance　of　his　art　and　its　experiential　sources。　During　the　period　of　World　War　II　he　observed　first　hand　the　expenditure　of　human　ingenuity　in　the　old　ritual　of　war。　As　the　illusions　of　his　early　rationalism　and　humanism　fell　away；　new　images　emerged；　and；　as　for　Simon；　a　picture　of　〃a　human　at　once　heroic　and　sick〃　formed　in　his　mind。　When　the　war　ended；　Golding　was　ready　to　write　（as　he　had　not　been　before）；　and　it　was　natural　to　find　in　the　traditions　he　knew　the　metaphors　which　could　define　the　continuity　of　the　soul's　flaws。　In　one　sense；　the　〃fable〃　was　already　written。　One　had　but　to　trace　over　the　words　upon　the　scroll17　and　so　collaborate　with　history。
　
　16。See　Golding's　reply　to　Professor　Kermode　in　〃The　Meaning　of　It　All；〃　p。　199　in　this　volume。
　17。In　a　letter　to　me　（September；　1962）　Professor　Frank　Kermode　recalls　Golding's　remark　to　the　effect　that　he　was　〃tracing　words　already　on　the　paper〃　during　the　writing　of　Lord　of　the　Flies。
　
　For　my　mother　and　father
　CHAPTER　ONE
　The　Sound　of　the　Shell
　
　The　boy　with　fair　hair　lowered　himself　down　the　last　few　feet　of　rock　and　began　to　pick　his　way　toward　the　lagoon。　Though　he　had　taken　off　his　school　sweater　and　trailed　it　now　from　one　hand；　his　grey　shirt　stuck　to　him　and　his　hair　was　plastered　to　his　forehead。　All　round　him　the　long　scar　smashed　into　the　jungle　was　a　bath　of　heat。　He　was　clambering　heavily　among　the　creepers　and　broken　trunks　when　a　bird；　a　vision　of　red　and　yellow；　flashed　upwards　with　a　witch…like　cry；　and　this　cry　was　echoed　by　another。
　〃Hi！〃　it　said。　〃Wait　a　minute！〃
　The　undergrowth　at　the　side　of　the　scar　was　shaken　and　a　multitude　of　raindrops　fell　pattering。
　〃Wait　a　minute；〃　the　voice　said。　'　I　got　caught　up。〃
　The　fair　boy　stopped　and　jerked　his　stockings　with　an　automatic　gesture　that　made　the　jungle　seem　for　a　moment　like　the　Home　Counties。
　The　voice　spoke　again。
　〃I　can't　hardly　move　with　all　these　creeper　things。〃
　The　owner　of　the　voice　came　backing　out　of　the　undergrowth　so　that　twigs　scratched　on　a　greasy　wind…breaker。　The　naked　crooks　of　his　knees　were　plump；　caught　and　scratched　by　thorns。　He　bent　down；　removed　the　thorns　carefully；　and　turned　round。　He　was　shorter　than　the　fair　boy　and　very　fat。　He　came　forward；　searching　out　safe　lodgments　for　his　feet；　and　then　looked　up　through　thick　spectacles。
　〃Where's　the　man　with　the　megaphone？〃
　The　fair　boy　shook　his　head。
　〃This　is　an　island。　At　least　I　think　it's　an　island。　That's　a　reef　out　in　the　sea。　Perhaps　there　aren't　any　grownups　anywhere。〃
　The　fat　boy　looked　startled。
　'There　was　that　pilot。　But　he　wasn't　in　the　passenger　cabin；　he　was　up　in　front。〃
　The　fair　boy　was　peering　at　the　reef　through　screwed…up　eyes。
　〃All　them　other　lads；〃　the　fat　boy　went　on。　〃Some　of　them　must　have　got　out。　They　must　have；　mustn't　they？〃
　The　fair　boy　began　to　pick　his　way　as　casually　as　possible　toward　the　water。　He　tried　to　be　offhand　and　not　too　obviously　uninterested；　but　the　fat　boy　hurried　after　him。
　〃Aren't　there　any　grownups　at　all？〃
　〃I　don't　think　so。〃
　The　fair　boy　said　this　solemnly；　but　then　the　delight　of　a　realized　ambition　overcame　him。　In　the　middle　of　the　scar　he　stood　on　his　head　and　grinned　at　the　reversed　fat　boy。
　〃No　grownups！〃
　The　fat　boy　thought　for　a　moment。
　〃That　pilot。〃
　The　fair　boy　allowed　his　feet　to　e　down　and　sat　on　the　steamy　earth。
　〃He　must　have　flown　off　after　he　dropped　us。　He　couldn't　land　here。　Not　in　a　plane　with　wheels。〃
　〃We　was　attacked！〃
　〃He'll　be　back　all　right。〃
　The　fat　boy　shook　his　head。
　〃When　we　was　ing　down　I　looked　through　one　of　them　windows。　I　saw　the　other　part　of　the　plane。　There　were　flames　ing　out　of　it。〃
　He　looked　up　and　down　the　scar。
　〃And　this　is　what　the　cabin　done。〃
　The　fair　boy　reached　out　and　touched　the　jagged　end　of　a　trunk。　For　a　moment　he　looked　interested。
　〃What　happened　to　it？〃　he　asked。　〃Where's　it　got　to　now？〃
　〃That　storm　dragged　it　out　to　sea。　It　wasn't　half　dangerous　with　all　them　tree　trunks　falling。　There　must　have　been　some　kids　still　in　it。〃
　He　hesitated　for　a　moment；　then　spoke　again。
　〃What's　your　name？〃
　〃Ralph。〃
　The　fat　boy　waited　to　be　asked　his　name　in　turn　but　this　proffer　of　acquaintance　was　not　made；　the　fair　boy　called　Ralph　smiled　vaguely；　stood　up；　and　began　to　make　las　way　once　more　toward　the　lagoon。　The　fat　boy　hung　steadily　at　his　shoulder。
　〃I　expect　there's　a　lot　more　of　us　scattered　about。　You　haven't　seen　any　others；　have　you？〃
　Ralph　shook　his　head　and　increased　his　speed。　Then　he　tripped　over　a　branch　and　came　down　with　a　crash。
　The　fat　boy　stood　by　him；　breathing　hard。
　〃My　auntie　told　me　not　to　run；〃　he　explained；　〃on　account　of　my　asthma。〃
　〃Ass…mar？〃
　〃That's　right。　Can't　catch　me　breath。　I　was　the　only　boy　in　our　school　what　had　asthma；〃　said　the　fat　boy　with　a　touch　of　pride。　〃And　I've　been　wearing　specs　since　I　was　three。〃
　He　took　off　his　glasses　and　held　them　out　to　Ralph；　blinking　and　smiling；　and　then　started　to　wipe　them　against　his　grubby　wind…breaker。　An　expression　of　pain　and　inward　concentration　altered　the　pale　contours　of　his　face。　He　smeared　the　sweat　from　his　cheeks　and　quickly　adjusted　the　spectacles　on　his　nose。
　〃Them　fruit。〃
　He　glanced　round　the　scar。
　〃Them　fruit；〃　he　said；　〃I　expect…〃
　He　put　on　his　glasses；　waded　away　from　Ralph；　and　crouched　down　among　the　tangled　foliage。
　〃Ill　be　out　again　in　just　a　minute…〃
　Ralph　disentangled　himself　cautiously　and　stole　away　through　the　branches。　In　a　few　seconds　the　fat　boy's　grunts　were　behind　him　and　he　was　hurrying　toward　the　screen　that　still　lay　between　him　and　the　lagoon。　He　climbed　over　a　broken　trunk　and　was　out　of　the　jungle。
　The　shore　was　fledged　with　palm　trees。　These　stood　or　leaned　or　reclined　against　the　light　and　their　green　feathers　were　a　hundred　feet　up　in　the　air。　The　ground　beneath　them　was　a　bank　covered　with　coarse　grass；　torn　everywhere　by　the　upheavals　of　fallen　trees；　scattered　with　decaying　coconuts　and　palm　saplings。　Behind　this　was　the　darkness　of　the　forest　proper　and　the　open　space　of　the　scar。　Ralph　stood；　one　hand　against　a　grey　trunk；　and　screwed　up　his　eyes　against　the　shimmering　water。　Out　there；　perhaps　a　mile　away；　the　white　surf　flinked　on　a　coral　reef；　and　beyond　that　the　open　sea　was　dark　blue。　Within　the　irregular　arc　of　coral　the　lagoon　was　still　as　a　mountain　lake…blue　of　all　shades　and　shadowy　green　and　purple。　The　beach　between　the　palm　terrace　and　the　water　was　a　thin　stick；　endless　apparently；　for　to　Ralph's　left　the　perspectives　of　palm　and　beach　and　water　drew　to　a　point　at　infinity；　and　always；　almost　visible；　was　the　heat。
　He　jumped　down　fr