Nothing So Strange by James Hilton Read Free Book Online Page A

harm); he knew, as
moderately rich men didn’t, how little you could bribe those whose real
currency was power, and this in turn made him flatter poor men who became
powerful. But of course, because they were powerful, sooner or later they let
him know that he had only money. I think now (though I knew nothing much
about it then) he must have been having this kind of experience in Germany,
and it hadn’t been pleasant.
    Fortunately Brad’s mood that night was at the other extreme. With his
examination over even he couldn’t help relaxing, the more so under the
influence of good food and my mother’s gaiety. Then, somehow or other, when
we were in the drawing room afterwards and Julian had joined us, the
conversation grew personal and the atmosphere changed. Julian had met Brad
before, and they had seemed to like each other well enough, in spite or
perhaps because of their obvious oppositeness. But now I sensed a hostility
between them which my father was quietly fanning; it was as if he were
holding his own unhappy thoughts at bay by encouraging both my mother and
Julian to put Brad on the spot. Soon they were in the thick of a discussion
of Brad’s ambitions, what he wanted to do in life, his ideal of science as
something to be lived for, and so on. All ideals sound naďve when brought out
under cross-examination, but my mother had a special knack of creating
naďvete in others—something in the way she used wits rather than brains
for an argument, certainly not knowledge, which she didn’t have much of about
most things. But she was always fluent, and couldn’t endure to wait while
others hesitated or pondered, so she would tell them what she thought they
were going to reply, and it was often so deceptively simple that the other
person would agree in a bemused way and presently find himself defending some
vast proposition more suitable for a school debating society than anything
between adults. I think this must have happened to Brad that night, for he
got to telling us eventually that scientists were actuated by a desire to
“save” humanity, and that science, in due course, would do this in spite of
other people whose chief concern was worldly success. (Which was probably a
dig at Julian.)
    “Meaning,” said Julian, “that scientists don’t go for that sort of
thing?”
    Brad answered that no true scientist could, or if he did, it proved he
wasn’t a true scientist. As neat as that!
    “But my dear boy—” (Julian always called people “dear,” which
sounded more affected than affectionate till you got used to it, and then you
realized it was neither, but just a habit)—“my dear boy, if you ignore
all worldly success, how do you suppose you’re going to get a chance to prove anything ? You can’t sit in a corner all on your own and just be a scientist—it’s not like writing an epic poem or contemplating your
navel—you need money for food, equipment that you couldn’t afford, a
room to work in that your house doesn’t have, and a job to make it worth
somebody’s while to pay you a regular salary!”
    “Well, a job’s all right. There’s nothing worldly in that.”
    “But unless it’s a good job you’ll wear yourself out marking papers and
teaching teen-agers to blow glass! I know, because I remember my own
schooldays.”
    “There are good jobs.”
    “And how do you suppose they are got? College heads aren’t supermen, they
don’t know much about science themselves, and because they can only judge a
reputation by the look of it, they’re human enough to favor a man who knows
how to draw attention to himself. So if he’s smart, that’s exactly what he
does. Politics is one way—though dangerous. Social success is safer.
And doing stuff on the side that attracts publicity—you Americans know
the kind of thing— pseudoscientific articles in your Sunday supplements
that aren’t too phony, just phony enough.” (Julian liked to use