Free The Wanting Seed by Anthony Burgess

true. All art is an aspect of sexuality –’.
    ‘Nobody, my dear Tristram, denies that that, to some extent, is perfectly true.’
    ‘But it goes deeper. Great art, the art of the past, is a kind of glorification of increase. I mean, take even drama for instance. I mean, tragedy and comedy had their origin in fertility ceremonies. The sacrificial goat–that’s tragos in Greek – and the village Priapic festivals which crystallized into comic drama. I mean–and,’ spluttered Tristram, ‘take architecture –’
    ‘We shall take no more.’ Wiltshire stopped, dropped his arm from around Tristram’s shoulder, and wagged a forefinger at Tristram’s eyes, as though to disperse the smoke in them. ‘We shall have no more of that, shal1 we, dear Tristram? Do, please, please, be careful. Everybody’s really quite fond of you, you know.’
    ‘I don’t quite see what that has to do with anything –’
    ‘It has a lot to do with everything . Now, just be a good boy –’ he was at least seven years younger thanTristram ‘– and stick to the syllabus. You can’t go very far wrong if you do that.’
    Tristram said nothing, pushing the lid down hard on his boiling temper. But, entering the steamy dining-hall, he deliberately stalked away from Wiltshire, seeking a table where sat Visser, Adair, Butcher (a very ancient trade-name), Freathy and Haskell-Sprott. These were harmless men who taught harmless subjects – simple skills into which controversy could never enter. ‘You look,’ said Mongol-eyed Adair, ‘pretty sick.’
    ‘I feel pretty sick,’ said Tristram. Haskell-Sprott, at the head of the mess, spooned out very thin vegetable stew, saying:
    ‘This’ll make you sicker.’
    ‘– Little bastards have been better behaved since we’ve had a chance to be tough with them,’ Visser was saying. He mimed violent boxing. ‘Take young Mildred, for example – queer name, Mildred, a girl’s name, though that’s the lad’s surname, of course – take him. Late again today, so what do I do? I let the toughs get at him – you know, Brisker and Couchman and that lot. They roughed him up something beautiful. Just two minutes of that, that’s all. He couldn’t get up from the floor.’
    ‘You’ve got to have discipline,’ agreed Butcher through a mouthful of stew.
    ‘I say,’ said Adair to Tristram, ‘you do look pretty sick.’
    ‘As long as he hasn’t got morning sickness,’ leered the joker Freathy.
    Tristram put down his spoon. ‘What did you say then?’
    ‘A joke,’ said Freathy. ‘I meant no harm.’
    ‘You said something about morning sickness.’
    ‘Forget it. Just my fun.’
    ‘But that’s impossible,’ said Tristram. ‘That couldn’t be possible.’
    ‘If I were you,’ said Adair, ‘I should go and have a lie down. You don’t look at all well.’
    ‘Absolutely impossible,’ said Tristram.
    ‘If you don’t want your stew,’ said Freathy, dripping with greed, ‘I’d be very much obliged –’ And he slid Tristram’s plate towards himself.
    ‘That’s not fair,’ said Butcher. ‘It should be shared out. That’s sheer damned gutsiness.’ They tugged, slopping the stew.
    ‘I think I’d better go home,’ said Tristram.
    ‘You do that,’ said Adair. ‘You might be sickening for something. Something catching.’ Tristram got up and tottered over to tell Wiltshire. Butcher had won the stew and was sucking it down in triumph.
    ‘Gulosity,’ said Haskell-Sprott tolerantly. ‘That’s the word.’

Four
    ‘B UT how could it have happened?’ cried Tristram. ‘How? How? How?’ Two paces to the window, two paces back to the wall, his hands agitatedly clasped behind him.
    ‘Nothing’s one hundred per cent sure,’ said Beatrice-Joanna, sitting placidly. ‘There might have been sabotage at the Contraceptive Works.’
    ‘Nonsense. Absolute and utter bloody nonsense. That’s a frivolous sort of remark,’ cried Tristram, turning on her. ‘That’s typical of your