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- Джон Фоулз
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- Волхв
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We
formed
a
small
club
called
Les
Hommes
Révoltés
,
drank
very
dry
sherry
,
and
(
as
a
protest
against
those
shabby
dufflecoated
last
years
of
the
forties
)
wore
dark
gray
suits
and
black
ties
for
our
meetings
;
we
argued
about
essence
and
existence
and
called
a
certain
kind
of
inconsequential
behavior
existentialist
.
Less
enlightened
people
would
have
called
it
capricious
or
just
plain
selfish
;
but
we
didn
’
t
realize
that
the
heroes
,
or
anti
-
heroes
,
of
the
French
existentialist
novels
we
read
were
not
supposed
to
be
realistic
.
We
tried
to
imitate
them
,
mistaking
metaphorical
descriptions
of
complex
modes
of
feeling
for
straightforward
prescriptions
of
behavior
.
We
duly
felt
the
right
anguishes
.
Most
of
us
,
true
to
the
eternal
dandyism
of
Oxford
,
simply
wanted
to
look
different
.
In
our
club
,
we
did
.
I
acquired
expensive
habits
and
affected
manners
.
I
got
a
third
-
class
degree
and
a
first
-
class
illusion
that
I
was
a
poet
.
But
nothing
could
have
been
less
poetic
than
my
pseudo
-
aristocratic
,
seeingthrough
-
all
boredom
with
life
in
general
and
with
making
a
living
in
particular
.
I
was
too
green
to
know
that
all
cynicism
masks
a
failure
to
cope
—
an
impotence
,
in
short
;
and
that
to
despise
all
effort
is
the
greatest
effort
of
all
.
But
I
did
absorb
a
small
dose
of
one
permanently
useful
thing
,
Oxford
’
s
greatest
gift
to
civilized
life
:
Socratic
honesty
.
It
showed
me
,
very
intermittently
,
that
it
is
not
enough
to
revolt
against
one
’
s
past
.
One
day
I
was
outrageously
bitter
among
some
friends
about
the
Army
;
back
in
my
own
rooms
later
it
suddenly
struck
me
that
just
because
I
said
with
impunity
things
that
would
have
apoplexed
my
dead
father
,
I
was
still
no
less
under
his
influence
.
The
truth
was
that
I
was
not
a
cynic
by
nature
;
only
by
revolt
.
I
had
got
away
from
what
I
hated
,
but
I
hadn
’
t
found
where
I
loved
,
and
so
I
pretended
there
was
nowhere
to
love
.
Handsomely
equipped
to
fail
,
I
went
out
into
the
world
.
My
father
hadn
’
t
kept
Financial
Prudence
among
his
armory
of
essential
words
;
he
ran
a
ridiculously
large
account
at
Ladbroke
’
s
and
his
mess
bills
always
reached
staggering
proportions
,
because
he
liked
to
be
popular
and
in
place
of
charm
had
to
dispense
alcohol
.
What
remained
of
his
money
when
the
lawyers
and
taxmen
had
had
their
cuts
yielded
not
nearly
enough
for
me
to
live
on
.
But
every
kind
of
job
I
looked
at
—
the
Foreign
Service
,
the
Civil
,
the
Colonial
,
the
banks
,
commerce
,
advertising
—
was
transpierceable
at
a
glance
.
I
went
to
several
interviews
,
and
since
I
didn
’
t
feel
obliged
to
show
the
eager
enthusiasm
our
world
expects
from
the
young
executive
,
I
was
successful
at
none
.
In
the
end
,
like
countless
generations
of
Oxford
men
before
me
,
I
answered
an
advertisement
in
the
Times
Educational
Supplement
.
I
went
to
the
place
,
a
minor
public
school
in
East
Anglia
,
I
was
interviewed
,
I
was
offered
the
post
.
I
learnt
later
that
there
were
only
two
other
applicants
,
both
Redbrick
,
and
term
was
beginning
in
three
days
.
The
mass
-
produced
middle
-
class
boys
I
had
to
teach
were
bad
enough
;
the
claustrophobic
little
town
was
a
nightmare
;
but
the
really
intolerable
thing
was
the
common
room
.
It
became
almost
a
relief
to
go
into
class
.
Boredom
,
the
numbing
annual
predictability
of
life
,
hung
over
the
staff
like
a
cloud
.
And
it
was
real
boredom
,
not
my
modish
ennui
.
From
it
flowed
cant
,
hypocrisy
and
the
impotent
rage
of
the
old
who
know
they
have
failed
and
the
young
who
suspect
that
they
will
fail
.
The
senior
masters
stood
like
gallows
sermons
;
with
some
of
them
one
had
a
sort
of
vertigo
,
a
glimpse
of
the
bottomless
pit
of
human
futility
…
or
so
I
began
to
feel
during
my
second
term
.
I
could
not
spend
my
life
crossing
such
a
Sahara
;
and
the
more
I
felt
it
the
more
I
felt
also
that
the
smug
,
petrified
school
was
a
toy
model
of
the
entire
country
and
that
to
quit
the
one
and
not
the
other
would
be
ridiculous
.
There
was
also
a
girl
I
was
tired
of
.
My
resignation
was
accepted
with
resignation
.
The
headmaster
briskly
supposed
from
my
vague
references
to
a
personal
restlessness
that
I
wanted
to
go
to
America
or
the
Dominions
.
"
I
haven
’
t
decided
yet
,
Headmaster
.
"
"
I
think
we
might
have
made
a
good
teacher
of
you
,
Urfe
.
And
you
might
have
made
something
of
us
,
you
know
.
But
it
’
s
too
late
flow
…
’
