Further discussion. 1. Who are the "Counterparts" and why do you think it is a better title for the story than "A Night's Drinking"

 

1. Who are the " Counterparts" and why do you think it is a better title for the story than " A Night's Drinking", for example?

2. Why does Farrington's drink so much? What will happen if he carries on drinking?

3. What do you consider particularly " Irish" about this story?

4. There is an old saying: " The quickest way out of Manchester is through the door of the nearest pub". What do you think it means, and how far is it reflected in this story?

5. Do you sympathize with Farrington's situation? What could he do to change it and why doesn't he do it?

6. " Frustration is the key to most drinking problems". How far is this true of Farrington? In what ways is he frustrated?

7. Are people as frustrated nowadays as they were 70 years ago? What social and moral changes have taken place to relieve the problems that made Farrington into a compulsive drinker?

8. Give a full stylistic analysis of the text.

 

E. M. Forster

 

Born in London in 1879, Forster studied at Cambridge and then turned to writing as a career. His early novels reflect the reaction of his time to Victorianism, and his major theme is the need of man to cultivate both imaginative intellect and his feeling for earthly things in order to achieve harmony. Personal impulse and emotion are, to him, more important than social convention, which leads towards a narrow, rigid view of things.

This short story reflects his wisdom and social criticism – criticism of a society that sees " progress" as a desirable aim for its own sake. For him, this kind of progress leads nowhere or – at best – back to the place you started from. E. M. Forster died in 1970.

 

 

Other Side of the Hedge

 

My pedometer[358] told me that I was twenty-five; and though it is a shocking thing to stop walking, I was so tired that I sat down on a milestone to rest. People outstripped[359] me, jeering[360] as they did so, but I was too apathetic to feel resentful[361], and even when Miss Eliza Dimbleby, the great educationalist, swept past, exhorting[362] me to persevere[363], 1 only smiled and raised my hat.

At first I thought I was going to be like my brother, whom I had had to leave by roadside a year or two round the corner. He had wasted his breath on singing and his strength on helping others. But I had travelled more wisely, and it was only the monotony of the highway that oppressed[364] me – dust under foot and brown crackling hedges on either side, ever since I could remember.

And I had already dropped several things – indeed the road behind was strewn[365] with the things we all had dropped; and the white dust was settling down on them, so that already they looked no better than stones. My muscles were so weary[366] that I could not even bear the weight of those things I still carried. I slid off the milestone into the road, and lay there prostrate[367], with my face to the great parched[368] hedge, praying that I might give up.

A little puff[369] of air revived me. It seemed to come from the hedge; and, when I opened my eyes, there was a glint[370] of light through the tangle of branches and dead leaves. The hedge could not be so thick as usual. In my weak, morbid[371] state I wanted to force my way in, and see what was on the other side. No one was in sight, or I should not have dared to try. For we of the road do not admit that there is another side at all.

I yielded[372] to the temptation, saying to myself that I would come back in a minute. The thorns scratched my face, and I had to use my arms as a shield depending on my feet alone to push me forward. Halfway through I would have gone back, for in the passage all the things I was carrying were scraped[373] off me, and my clothes were torn. But I was so wedged[374] that return was impossible, and I had to wriggle[375] blindly forward, expecting every moment that my strength would fail me, and that I should die in the undergrowth[376] Suddenly cold water closed round my head, and I seemed to be sinking down for ever. I had fallen out of the hedge into a big pool. I rose to the surface at crying for help, and I heard someone on the opposite bank laugh and 'Another! " And then someone pulled me out.

Even when the water was out of my eyes, I was still dazed[377], for I had never been in so large a space, nor seen such grass and sunshine. The blue sky no longer a strip, and beneath it the earth had risen into hills – clean, bare with beech[378] trees in their folds[379], and meadows[380] and clear pools at their feet

But the hills were not high, and there was in the landscape a sense of human occupation[381] – like a park, or a garden.

As soon as I got my breath I turned to my rescuer and said: " Where does place lead to? "

" Nowhere, thank the Lord! " said he, and laughed. He was a man of fifty or - just the kind of age we mistrust on the road – but there was no anxiety in manner, and his voice was that of a boy of eighteen.

" But it must lead somewhere!! " I cried, too much surprised to thank him saving my life. " He wants to know where it leads! " he shouted to some men on the hillside and they laughed back and waved their caps. I noticed then that the pool into which I had fallen was really a moat[382] which bent round to the left and to the right. The hedge was green on this side, it’s roots showed through the clear water and fish swam about in them. But it was a barrier, and in a moment I lost all pleasure in the grass, the trees, the sky, the happy men and women, and realized that the place was a prison, in spite of its beauty.

We moved away from the hedge, and then followed a path which ran alongside it across the meadows. 1 found it difficult walking, for I was always trying to out-distance[383] my companion, and there was no advantage in doing this if the place led nowhere. I had never kept step[384] with anyone since I had left my brother. Suddenly I stopped and said, sadly: " This is terrible! One cannot advance, one can progress. Now we of the road…. "

" Yes, I know"

" I was goingto say, we advance continually" " I know".

" We are always learning, expanding, developing. Why, even in my short life I seen a great deal of advance. Here, for example… "

I took out my pedometer, but it still marked twenty-five, not a degree more. " Many things don't work in here" he said, smiling. " The laws of science are universal. It must be some water from the moat that injured[385] the machinery. In normal conditions everything works. Science and the spirit of progress – those are the things that have made us what we are".

I had to stop talking and return the pleasant greetings of people whom we passed. Some of them were singing, some talking, some engaged in[386] gardening, hay-making or other simple tasks. They all seemed happy; and I might have been happy, too, if I had forgotten that the place led nowhere. I was startled[387] by a young man who came sprinting across our path, jumped over a little fence and went tearing[388] over a ploughed field till he plunged into a lake, across which he began to swim. Here was true energy! " A cross-country race! " 1 cried, " Where are the others? "

There are no others. " My companion replied. I was bewildered[389] at the waste in production, and murmured[390] to myself: " What does it all mean? "

He said: " It means nothing but itself" – and he repeated the words slowly, as if I were a child.

“I understand" I said quietly, " But I do not agree. Every achievement[391] is worthless unless it is a link[392] in the chain of development. Now I must get back to the road somehow and have my pedometer mended."

" First you must see the gates, " he replied, " for we have gates, though we never use them".

I yielded politely, and before long we reached the moat again, at a point where it was spanned[393] by a bridge. Over the bridge was a big gate, as white ivory[394], which was fitted into a hole in the hedge. The gate opened outwards and I cried in amazement[395], for from it ran a road – just such a road as I had – dusty, with brown crackling hedges on either side as far as the eye could reach.

" That's my road! " I cried. He shut the gate and said: " But not your part of the road. It is through this gate that humanity[396] went out countless ages ago, when it was first seized[397] with the desire to walk"

1 denied[398] this, saying that the part of the road which I myself had left was not more than two miles off. But with the obstinacy[399] of his years he repeated: " It is the same road. This is the beginning, and though it seems to run straight away from us, it doubles[400] so often that it is never far from our boundary[401] and sometimes touches it.

" Of course the road sometimes doubles, " I said, " but that is part of our discipline. Who can doubt that the general tendency is onward? To what goal we know not, but we know we are moving forward. It is the thought of that that makes us go on... Good gracious! " I cried, " that's Miss Eliza Dimbleby over there! I left her on the road"

" People are always astonished at meeting each other" said the old man. " A1l kinds come through the hedge, and they come at all times – When they're ahead in the race, when they're dropping behind, when they're left for dead. I often stand near the boundary listening to the sounds of the road and wonder if anyone will come in to us. It is my greatest happiness to help someone out of the moat just as I helped you. For our country fills up slowly, though it meant for all mankind[402]". " Mankind has other aims" I said, gently, for I thought him well-meaning; " and I must join them." I said good-bye to him, for I wanted to be on the road before dark and the sun was setting. To my alarm, he caught hold of me, crying: " you are not to go yet! " I tried to shake him off, for we had no interests in common, but he would not let go and I had to follow him.

It was true that I could never have found alone the place where I had come in, I hoped that, when I had seen the other sights he would take me back to it.

But I was determined[403] not to sleep in his country, for I mistrusted it, and the people, too, for all their friendliness. Hungry though I was, I would not join them in their evening meals of milk and fruit, and, when they gave me flowers, I threw them away as soon as I could do so unobserved. Already they were lying down for the night like cattle[404] – some out on the bare hillside, others in groups under the beeches. In the light of an orange sunset I hurried on with my unwelcome guide, dead tired, faint with hunger, but murmuring: " Give me life, its struggles and victories, with its failures and hatreds, with its deep moral meaning and its unknown goal! "

At last we came to a place where the moat was spanned by another bridge with another gate at the end. It was different from the other gate, for it was half transparent, like horn, and opened inwards. But through it I saw again the road – monotonous, dusty, with brown crackling hedges on either side as far as the eye could reach.

I was troubled[405] at the sight. A man was passing us, returning for the night to the hills, with a scythe[406] over his shoulder and a can of some liquid in his hand. I forgot the destiny[407] of our race, I forgot the road and I sprang at him, wrenched[408] the can out of his hand and began to drink.

It was only beer, but in my exhausted state it overcame[409] me in a moment. As in a dream, I saw the old man shut the gate and heard him say: " This is where your road ends, and through this gate humanity – all that is left of it – will come in to us:

The man whose beer I had stolen lowered me down gently to sleep off its effects, and, as he did so, I saw that he was my brother.