the angel and the author-第11章

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his　own　club。　　Then　a　curious　thing　takes　place：　　all　the　other　
insects　standing　round　place　their　right　hand　before　their　mouth；　
and；　turning　away　their　faces；　shake　their　bodies　to　and　fro；　
emitting　a　strange　crackling　sound。　　Whether　this　is　to　be　regarded　
as　a　mere　expression　of　their　grief　that　the　blow　of　their　comrade　
should　have　miscarried；　or　whether　one　may　assume　it　to　be　a　
ceremonious　appeal　to　their　gods　for　better　luck　next　time；　I　have　
not　as　yet　made　up　my　mind。　　The　striker；　meanwhile；　raises　both　
arms；　the　hands　tightly　clenched；　towards　the　heavens；　and　utters　
what　is　probably　a　prayer；　prepared　expressly　for　the　occasion。

＇The　Heir　of　all　Ages。　　His　Inheritance。＇

In　similar　manner　he；　the　Celestial　Observer；　proceeds　to　describe　
our　billiard　matches；　our　tennis　tournaments；　our　croquet　parties。　　
Maybe　it　never　occurs　to　him　that　a　large　section　of　our　race　
surrounded　by　Eternity；　would　devote　its　entire　span　of　life　to　sheer　
killing　of　time。　　A　middle…aged　friend　of　mine；　a　cultured　gentleman；　
a　M。A。　of　Cambridge；　assured　me　the　other　day　that；　notwithstanding　
all　his　experiences　of　life；　the　thing　that　still　gave　him　the　
greatest　satisfaction　was　the　accomplishment　of　a　successful　drive　to　
leg。　　Rather　a　quaint　commentary　on　our　civilization；　is　it　not？　　
〃The　singers　have　sung；　and　the　builders　have　builded。　　The　artists　
have　fashioned　their　dreams　of　delight。〃　　The　martyrs　for　thought　and　
freedom　have　died　their　death；　knowledge　has　sprung　from　the　bones　of　
ignorance；　civilization　for　ten　thousand　years　has　battled　with　
brutality　to　this　resultthat　a　specimen　gentleman　of　the　Twentieth　
Century；　the　heir　of　all　the　ages；　finds　his　greatest　joy　in　life　the　
striking　of　a　ball　with　a　chunk　of　wood！

Human　energy；　human　suffering；　has　been　wasted。　　Such　crown　of　
happiness　for　a　man　might　surely　have　been　obtained　earlier　and　at　
less　cost。　　Was　it　intended？　　Are　we　on　the　right　track？　　The　child's　
play　is　wiser。　　The　battered　doll　is　a　princess。　　Within　the　sand　
castle　dwells　an　ogre。　　It　is　with　imagination　that　he　plays。　　His　
games　have　some　relation　to　life。　　It　is　the　man　only　who　is　content　
with　this　everlasting　knocking　about　of　a　ball。　　The　majority　of　
mankind　is　doomed　to　labour　so　constant；　so　exhausting；　that　no　
opportunity　is　given　it　to　cultivate　its　brain。　　Civilization　has　
arranged　that　a　small　privileged　minority　shall　alone　enjoy　that　
leisure　necessary　to　the　development　of　thought。　　And　what　is　the　
answer　of　this　leisured　class？　　It　is：

〃We　will　do　nothing　for　the　world　that　feeds　us；　clothes　us；　keeps　us　
in　luxury。　　We　will　spend　our　whole　existence　knocking　balls　about；　
watching　other　people　knocking　balls　about；　arguing　with　one　another　
as　to　the　best　means　of　knocking　balls　about。〃

＇Is　it　〃Playing　the　Game？〃＇

Is　itto　use　their　own　jargon〃playing　the　game？〃

And　the　queer　thing　is　this　over…worked　world；　that　stints　itself　to　
keep　them　in　idleness；　approves　of　the　answer。　　〃The　flannelled　
fool；〃　〃The　muddied　oaf；〃　is　the　pet　of　the　people；　their　hero；　their　
ideal。

But　maybe　all　this　is　mere　jealousy。　　Myself；　I　have　never　been　
clever　at　knocking　balls　about。



CHAPTER　X



＇Patience　and　the　Waiter。＇

The　slowest　waiter　I　know　is　the　British　railway　refreshment…room　
waiter。

His　very　breathingregular；　harmonious；　penetrating；　instinct　as　it　
is　with　all　the　better　attributes　of　a　well…preserved　grandfather's　
clockconveys　suggestion　of　dignity　and　peace。　　He　is　a　huge；　
impressive　person。　　There　emanates　from　him　an　atmosphere　of　
Lotusland。　　The　otherwise　unattractive　refreshment…room　becomes　an　
oasis　of　repose　amid　the　turmoil　of　a　fretful　world。　　All　things　
conspire　to　aid　him：　　the　ancient　joints；　ranged　side　by　side　like　
corpses　in　a　morgue；　each　one　decently　hidden　under　its　white　muslin　
shroud；　whispering　of　death　and　decay；　the　dish　of　dead　flies；　
thoughtfully　placed　in　the　centre　of　the　table；　the　framed　
advertisements　extolling　the　virtues　of　heavy　beers　and　stouts；　of　
weird　champagnes；　emanating　from　haunted…looking　chateaux；　situate
if　one　may　judge　from　the　illustrationin　the　midst　of　desert　lands；　
the　sleep…inviting　buzz　of　the　bluebottles。

The　spirit　of　the　place　steals　over　you。　　On　entering；　with　a　quarter　
of　an　hour　to　spare；　your　idea　was　a　cutlet　and　a　glass　of　claret。　　
In　the　face　of　the　refreshment…room　waiter；　the　notion　appears　
frivolous；　not　to　say　un…English。　　You　order　cold　beef　and　pickles；　
with　a　pint　of　bitter　in　a　tankard。　　To　win　the　British　waiter's　
approval；　you　must　always　order　beer　in　a　tankard。　　The　British　
waiter；　in　his　ideals；　is　mediaeval。　　There　is　a　Shakespearean　touch　
about　a　tankard。　　A　soapy　potato　will；　of　course；　be　added。　　
Afterwards　a　ton　of　cheese　and　a　basin　of　rabbit's　food　floating　in　
water　（the　British　salad）　will　be　placed　before　you。　　You　will　work　
steadily　through　the　whole；　anticipating　the　somnolence　that　will　
subsequently　fall　upon　you　with　a　certain　amount　of　satisfaction。　　It　
will　serve　to　dispel　the　last　lingering　regret　at　the　reflection　that　
you　will　miss　your　appointment；　and　suffer　thereby　serious　
inconvenience　if　not　positive　loss。　　These　things　are　of　the　world
the　noisy；　tiresome　world　you　have　left　without。

To　the　English　traveller；　the　foreign　waiter　in　the　earlier　stages　of　
his　career　is　a　burden　and　a　trial。　　When　he　is　completewhen　he　
really　can　talk　English　I　rejoice　in　him。　　When　I　object　to　him　is　
when　his　English　is　worse　than　my　French　or　German；　and　when　he　will；　
for　his　own　educational　purposes；　insist；　nevertheless；　that　the　
conversation　shall　be　entirely　in　English。　　I　would　he　came　to　me　
some　other　time。　　I　would　so　much　rather　make　it　after　dinner　or；　
say；　the　next　morning。　　I　hate　giving　lessons　during　meal　times。

Besides；　to　a　man　with　feeble　digestion；　this　sort　of　thing　can　lead　
to　trouble。　　One　waiter　I　met　at　an　hotel　in　Dijon　knew　very　little　
Englishabout　as　much　as　a　poll　parrot。　　The　moment　I　entered　the　
salle…a…manger　he　started　to　his　feet。

〃Ah！　　You　English！〃　he　cried。

〃Well；　what　about　us？〃　I　answered。　　It　was　during　the　period　of　the　
Boer　War。　　I　took　it　he　was　about　to　denounce　the　English　nation　
generally。　　I　was　looking　for　something　to　throw　at　him。

〃You　Englishyou　Englishman；　yes；〃　he　repeated。

And　then　I　understood　he　had　merely　intended　a　question。　　I　owned　up　
that　I　was；　and　accused　him　in　turn　of　being　a　Frenchman。　　He　
admitted　it。　　Introductions；　as　it　were；　thus　over；　I　thought　I　would　
order　dinner。　　I　ordered　it　in　French。　　I　am　not　bragging　of　my　
French；　I　never　wanted　to　learn　French。　　Even　as　a　boy；　it　was　more　
the　idea　of　others　than　of　myself。　　I　learnt　as　little　as　possible。　　
But　I　have　learnt　enough　to　live　in　places　where　they　can't；　or　
won't；　speak　anything　else。　　Left　to　myself；　I　could　have　enjoyed　a　
very　satisfactory　dinner。　　I　was　tired　with　a　long　day's　journey；　and　
hungry。　　They　cook　well　at　this　hotel。　　I　had　been　looking　forward　to　
my　dinner　for　hours　and　hours。　　I　had　sat　down　in　my　imagination　to　a　
consomme　bisque；　sole　au　gratin；　a　poulet　saute；　and　an　omelette　au　
fromage。

＇Waiterkind　in　the　making。＇

It　is　wrong　to　let　one's　mind　dwell　upon　carnal　delights；　I　see　that　
now。　　At　the　time　I　was　mad　about　it。　　The　fool　would　not　even　listen　
to　me。　　He　had　got　it　into　his　garlic…sodden　brain　that　all　
Englishmen　live　on　beef；　and　nothing　but　beef。　　He　swept　aside　all　my　
suggestions　as　though　they　had　been　the　prattlings　of　a　foolish　
child。

〃You　haf　nice　biftek。　　Not　at　all　done。　　Yes？〃

〃No；　I　don't；〃　I　answered。　　〃I　don't　want　what　the　cook　of　a　French　
provincial　hotel　calls　a　biftek。　　I　want　something　to　eat。　　I　want〃　　
Apparently；　he　understood　neither　English　nor　French。

〃Yes；　yes；〃　he　interrupted　cheerfully；　〃with　pottitoes。〃

〃With　what？〃　I　asked。　　I　thought　for　the　moment　he　was　suggesting　
potted　pigs'　feet　in　the　nearest　English　he　could　get　to　it。

〃Pottito；〃　he　repeated；　〃boil　pottito。　　Yes？　　And　pell　hell。〃

I　felt　like　telling　him　to　go　there；　I　suppose　he　meant　〃pale　ale。〃　　
It　took　me　about　five　minutes　to　get　that　beefsteak　out　of　his　head。　　
By　the　time　I　had　done　it；　I　did　not　care　what　I　had　for　dinner。　　I　
took　pot…du…jour　and　veal。　　He　added；　on　his　own　initiative；　a　thing　
that　looked　like　a　poultice。　　I　did　not　try　the　taste　of　it。　　He　
explained　it　was　〃plum　poodeen。〃　　I　fancy　he　had　made　it　himself。

This　fellow　is　typical；　you　meet　him　everywhere　abroad。　　He　
translates　your　bill　into　English　for　you；　calls　ten　centimes　a　
penny；　calculates　twelve　francs　to　the　pound；　and　presses　a　handful　
of　sous　affectionately　upon　you　as　change　for　a　napoleon。

The　cheating　waiter　is　common　to　all　countries；　though　in　Italy　and　
Belgium　he　flourishes；　perhaps；　more　than　elsewhere。　　But　the　British　
waiter；　when　detected；　becomes　surlydoes　not　take　it　nicely。　　The　
foreign　waiter　is　amiable　about　itbears　no　malice。　　He　is　grieved；　
maybe；　at　your　language；　but　that　is　because　he　is　thinking　of　you
the　possible　effect　of　it　upon　your　future。　　To　try　and　stop　you；　he　
offers　you　another　four　sous。　　The　story　is　told　of　a　Frenchman　who；　
not　knowing　the　legal　fare；　adopted　the　plan　of　doling　out　pennies　to　
a　London　cabman　one　at　a　time；　continuing　until　the　man　looked　
satisfied。　　Myself；　I　doubt　the　story。　　From　what　I　know　of　the　
London　cabman；　I　can　see　him　leaning　down　still；　with　out…stretched　
hand；　the　horse　between　the　shafts　long　since　dead；　the　cab　chockfull　
of　coppers；　and　yet　no　expression　of　satiety　upon　his　face。

But　the　story　would　appear　to　have　crossed　the　Channel；　and　to　have　
commended　itself　to　the　foreign　waiterespecially　to　the　railway　
refreshment…room　waiter。　　He　doles　out　sous　to　the　traveller；　one　at　
a　time；　with　the　air　of　a　man　who　is　giving　away　the　savings　of　a　
lifetime。　　If；　after　five　minutes　or　so；　you　still　appear　
discontented　he　goes　away　quite　suddenly。　　You　think　he　has　gone　to　
open　another　chest　of　half…pence；　but　when　a　quarter　of　an　hour　has　
passed　and　he　does　not　reappear；　you　inquire　about　him　amongst　the　
other　waiters。

A　gloom　at　once　falls　upon　them。　　You　have　spoken　of　the　very　thing　
that　has　been　troubling　them。　　He　used　to　be　a　waiter　here　onceone　
might　almost　say　until　quite　recently。　　As　to　what　has　become　of　him…
…ah！　there　you　have　them。　　If　in　the　course　of　their　chequered　career　
they　ever　come　across　him；　they　will　mention　to　him　that　you　are　
waiting　for　him。　　Meanwhile　a　stentorian…voiced　official　is　shouting　
that　your　train　is　on　the　point　of　leaving。　　You　console　yourself　
with　the　reflection　that　it　might　have　been　more。　　It　always　might　
have　been　more；　sometimes　it　is。

＇His　Little　Mistakes。＇

A　waiter　at　the　Gare　du　Nord；　in　Brussels；　on　one　occasion　pressed　
upon　me　a　five…franc　piece；　a　small　Turkish　coin　the　value　of　which　
was　unknown　to　me；　and　remains　so　to　this　day；　a　distinctly　bad　two　
francs；　and　from　a　quarter　of　a　pound　to　six　ounces　of　centimes；　as　
change　for　a　twenty…franc　note；　after　deducting　the　price　of　a　cup　of　
coffee。　　He　put　it　down　with　the　air　of　one　subscri