man and superman-第18章

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avenue＇。

TANNER。　About　this　trip；　Straker。

STRAKER。　＇preoccupied　with　the　car＇　Yes？

TANNER。　Miss　Whitefield　is　supposed　to　be　coming　with　me。

STRAKER。　So　I　gather。

TANNER。　Mr　Robinson　is　to　be　one　of　the　party。

STRAKER。　Yes。

TANNER。　Well；　if　you　can　manage　so　as　to　be　a　good　deal　occupied
with　me；　and　leave　Mr　Robinson　a　good　deal　occupied　with　Miss
Whitefield；　he　will　be　deeply　grateful　to　you。

STRAKER。　＇looking　round　at　him＇　Evidently。

TANNER。　〃Evidently〃！　Your　grandfather　would　have　simply　winked。

STRAKER。　My　grandfather　would　have　touched　his　at。

TANNER。　And　I　should　have　given　your　good　nice　respectful
grandfather　a　sovereign。

STRAKER。　Five　shillins；　more　likely。　＇He　leaves　the　car　and
approaches　Tanner＇。　What　about　the　lady's　views？

TANNER。　She　is　just　as　willing　to　be　left　to　Mr　Robinson　as　Mr
Robinson　is　to　be　left　to　her。　＇Straker　looks　at　his　principal
with　cool　scepticism；　then　turns　to　the　car　whistling　his
favorite　air＇。　Stop　that　aggravating　noise。　What　do　you　mean　by
it？　＇Straker　calmly　resumes　the　melody　and　finishes　it。　Tanner
politely　hears　it　out　before　he　again　addresses　Straker；　this
time　with　elaborate　seriousness＇。　Enry：　I　have　ever　been　a　warm
advocate　of　the　spread　of　music　among　the　masses；　but　I　object　to
your　obliging　the　company　whenever　Miss　Whitefield's　name　is
mentioned。　You　did　it　this　morning；　too。

STRAKER。　＇obstinately＇　It's　not　a　bit　o　use。　Mr　Robinson　may　as
well　give　it　up　first　as　last。

TANNER。　Why？

STRAKER。　Garn！　You　know　why。　Course　it's　not　my　business；　but　you
needn't　start　kiddin　me　about　it。

TANNER。　I　am　not　kidding。　I　don't　know　why。

STRAKER。　＇Cheerfully　sulky＇　Oh；　very　well。　All　right。　It　ain't　my
business。

TANNER。　＇impressively＇　I　trust；　Enry；　that；　as　between　employer
and　engineer；　I　shall　always　know　how　to　keep　my　proper　distance；
and　not　intrude　my　private　affairs　on　you。　Even　our　business
arrangements　are　subject　to　the　approval　of　your　Trade　Union。　But
don't　abuse　your　advantages。　Let　me　remind　you　that　Voltaire　said
that　what　was　too　silly　to　be　said　could　be　sung。

STRAKER。　It　wasn't　Voltaire：　it　was　Bow　Mar　Shay。

TANNER。　I　stand　corrected：　Beaumarchais　of　course。　Now　you　seem
to　think　that　what　is　too　delicate　to　be　said　can　be　whistled。
Unfortunately　your　whistling；　though　melodious；　is　unintelligible。
Come！　there's　nobody　listening：　neither　my　genteel　relatives　nor
the　secretary　of　your　confounded　Union。　As　man　to　man；　Enry；　why
do　you　think　that　my　friend　has　no　chance　with　Miss　Whitefield？

STRAKER。　Cause　she's　arter　summun　else。

TANNER。　Bosh！　who　else？

STRAKER。　You。

TANNER。　Me！！！

STRAKER。　Mean　to　tell　me　you　didn't　know？　Oh；　come；　Mr　Tanner！

TANNER。　＇in　fierce　earnest＇　Are　you　playing　the　fool；　or　do　you
mean　it？

STRAKER。　＇with　a　flash　of　temper＇　I'm　not　playin　no　fool。　＇More
coolly＇　Why；　it's　as　plain　as　the　nose　on　your　face。　If　you　ain't
spotted　that；　you　don't　know　much　about　these　sort　of　things。
＇Serene　again＇　Ex…cuse　me；　you　know；　Mr　Tanner；　but　you　asked　me
as　man　to　man；　and　I　told　you　as　man　to　man。

TANNER。　＇wildly　appealing　to　the　heavens＇　Then　II　am　the
bee；　the　spider；　the　marked　down　victim；　the　destined　prey。

STRAKER。　I　dunno　about　the　bee　and　the　spider。　But　the　marked
down　victim；　that's　what　you　are　and　no　mistake；　and　a　jolly　good
job　for　you；　too；　I　should　say。

TANNER。　＇momentously＇　Henry　Straker：　the　moment　of　your　life　has
arrived。

STRAKER。　What　d'y'mean？

TANNER。　That　record　to　Biskra。

STRAKER。　＇eagerly＇　Yes？

TANNER。　Break　it。

STRAKER。　＇rising　to　the　height　of　his　destiny＇　D'y'mean　it？

TANNER。　I　do。

STRAKER。　When？

TANNER。　Now。　Is　that　machine　ready　to　start？

STRAKER。　＇quailing＇　But　you　can't

TANNER。　＇cutting　him　short　by　getting　into　the　car＇　Off　we　go。
First　to　the　bank　for　money；　then　to　my　rooms　for　my　kit；　then　to
your　rooms　for　your　kit；　then　break　the　record　from　London　to
Dover　or　Folkestone；　then　across　the　channel　and　away　like　mad　to
Marseilles；　Gibraltar；　Genoa；　any　port　from　which　we　can　sail　to
a　Mahometan　country　where　men　are　protected　from　women。

STRAKER。　Garn！　you're　kiddin。

TANNER。　＇resolutely＇　Stay　behind　then。　If　you　won't　come　I'll　do
it　alone。　＇He　starts　the　motor＇。

STRAKER。　＇running　after　him＇　Here！　Mister！　arf　a　mo！　steady　on！
＇he　scrambles　in　as　the　car　plunges　forward＇。




ACT　III

Evening　in　the　Sierra　Nevada。　Rolling　slopes　of　brown；　with　olive
trees　instead　of　apple　trees　in　the　cultivated　patches；　and
occasional　prickly　pears　instead　of　gorse　and　bracken　in　the
wilds。　Higher　up；　tall　stone　peaks　and　precipices；　all　handsome
and　distinguished。　No　wild　nature　here：　rather　a　most
aristocratic　mountain　landscape　made　by　a　fastidious
artist…creator。　No　vulgar　profusion　of　vegetation：　even　a　touch
of　aridity　in　the　frequent　patches　of　stones：　Spanish
magnificence　and　Spanish　economy　everywhere。

Not　very　far　north　of　a　spot　at　which　the　high　road　over　one　of
the　passes　crosses　a　tunnel　on　the　railway　from　Malaga　to
Granada；　is　one　of　the　mountain　amphitheatres　of　the　Sierra。
Looking　at　it　from　the　wide　end　of　the　horse…shoe；　one　sees；　a
little　to　the　right；　in　the　face　of　the　cliff；　a　romantic　cave
which　is　really　an　abandoned　quarry；　and　towards　the　left　a
little　hill；　commanding　a　view　of　the　road；　which　skirts　the
amphitheatre　on　the　left；　maintaining　its　higher　level　on
embankments　and　on　an　occasional　stone　arch。　On　the　hill；
watching　the　road；　is　a　man　who　is　either　a　Spaniard　or　a
Scotchman。　Probably　a　Spaniard；　since　he　wears　the　dress　of　a
Spanish　goatherd　and　seems　at　home　in　the　Sierra　Nevada；　but
very　like　a　Scotchman　for　all　that。　In　the　hollow；　on　the　slope
leading　to　the　quarry…cave；　are　about　a　dozen　men　who；　as　they
recline　at　their　cave　round　a　heap　of　smouldering　white　ashes　of
dead　leaf　and　brushwood；　have　an　air　of　being　conscious　of
themselves　as　picturesque　scoundrels　honoring　the　Sierra　by
using　it　as　an　effective　pictorial　background。　As　a　matter　of
artistic　fact　they　are　not　picturesque；　and　the　mountains
tolerate　them　as　lions　tolerate　lice。　An　English　policeman　or
Poor　Law　Guardian　would　recognize　them　as　a　selected　band　of
tramps　and　ablebodied　paupers。

This　description　of　them　is　not　wholly　contemptuous。　Whoever　has
intelligently　observed　the　tramp；　or　visited　the　ablebodied　ward
of　a　workhouse；　will　admit　that　our　social　failures　are　not　all
drunkards　and　weaklings。　Some　of　them　are　men　who　do　not　fit　the
class　they　were　born　into。　Precisely　the　same　qualities　that　make
the　educated　gentleman　an　artist　may　make　an　uneducated　manual
laborer　an　ablebodied　pauper。　There　are　men　who　fall　helplessly
into　the　workhouse　because　they　are　good　far　nothing；　but　there
are　also　men　who　are　there　because　they　are　strongminded　enough
to　disregard　the　social　convention　（obviously　not　a　disinterested
one　on　the　part　of　the　ratepayer）　which　bids　a　man　live　by
heavy　and　badly　paid　drudgery　when　he　has　the　alternative　of
walking　into　the　workhouse；　announcing　himself　as　a　destitute
person；　and　legally　compelling　the　Guardians　to　feed；　clothe　and
house　him　better　than　he　could　feed；　clothe　and　house　himself
without　great　exertion。　When　a　man　who　is　born　a　poet　refuses　a
stool　in　a　stockbroker's　office；　and　starves　in　a　garret；
spunging　on　a　poor　landlady　or　on　his　friends　and　relatives
rather　than　work　against　his　grain；　or　when　a　lady；　because　she
is　a　lady；　will　face　any　extremity　of　parasitic　dependence　rather
than　take　a　situation　as　cook　or　parlormaid；　we　make　large
allowances　for　them。　To　such　allowances　the　ablebodied　pauper　and
his　nomadic　variant　the　tramp　are　equally　entitled。

Further；　the　imaginative　man；　if　his　life　is　to　be　tolerable　to
him；　must　have　leisure　to　tell　himself　stories；　and　a　position
which　lends　itself　to　imaginative　decoration。　The　ranks　of
unskilled　labor　offer　no　such　positions。　We　misuse　our　laborers
horribly；　and　when　a　man　refuses　to　be　misused；　we　have　no　right
to　say　that　he　is　refusing　honest　work。　Let　us　be　frank　in　this
matter　before　we　go　on　with　our　play；　so　that　we　may　enjoy　it
without　hypocrisy。　If　we　were　reasoning；　farsighted　people；　four
fifths　of　us　would　go　straight　to　the　Guardians　for　relief；　and
knock　the　whole　social　system　to　pieces　with　most　beneficial
reconstructive　results。　The　reason　we　do　got　do　this　is　because
we　work　like　bees　or　ants；　by　instinct　or　habit；　not　reasoning
about　the　matter　at　all。　Therefore　when　a　man　comes　along　who　can
and　does　reason；　and　who；　applying　the　Kantian　test　to　his
conduct；　can　truly　say　to　us；　If　everybody　did　as　I　do；　the　world
would　be　compelled　to　reform　itself　industrially；　and　abolish
slavery　and　squalor；　which　exist　only　because　everybody　does　as
you　do；　let　us　honor　that　man　and　seriously　consider　the
advisability　of　following　his　example。　Such　a　man　is　the
able…bodied；　able…minded　pauper。　Were　he　a　gentleman　doing　his
best　to　get　a　pension　or　a　sinecure　instead　of　sweeping　a
crossing；　nobody　would　blame　him；　for　deciding　that　so　long　as
the　alternative　lies　between　living　mainly　at　the　expense　of　the
community　and　allowing　the　community　to　live　mainly　at　his；　it
would　be　folly　to　accept　what　is　to　him　personally　the　greater　of
the　two　evils。

We　may　therefore　contemplate　the　tramps　of　the　Sierra　without
prejudice；　admitting　cheerfully　that　our　objectsbriefly；
to　be　gentlemen　of　fortuneare　much　the　same　as　theirs；　and　the
difference　in　our　position　and　methods　merely　accidental。　One
or　two　of　them；　perhaps；　it　would　be　wiser　to　kill　without　malice
in　a　friendly　and　frank　manner；　for　there　are　bipeds；　just　as
there　are　quadrupeds；　who　are　too　dangerous　to　be　left　unchained
and　unmuzzled；　and　these　cannot　fairly　expect　to　have　other　men's
lives　wasted　in　the　work　of　watching　them。　But　as　society　has　not
the　courage　to　kill　them；　and；　when　it　catches　them；　simply
wreaks　on　them　some　superstitious　expiatory　rites　of　torture　and
degradation；　and　than　lets　them　loose　with　heightened
qualifications　for　mischief；　it　is　just　as　well　that　they　are　at
large　in　the　Sierra；　and　in　the　hands　of　a　chief　who　looks　as　if
he　might　possibly；　on　provocation；　order　them　to　be　shot。

This　chief；　seated　in　the　centre　of　the　group　on　a　squared　block
of　stone　from　the　quarry；　is　a　tall　strong　man；　with　a　striking
cockatoo　nose；　glossy　black　hair；　pointed　beard；　upturned
moustache；　and　a　Mephistophelean　affectation　which　is　fairly
imposing；　perhaps　because　the　scenery　admits　of　a　larger　swagger
than　Piccadilly；　perhaps　because　of　a　certain　sentimentality　in
the　man　which　gives　him　that　touch　of　grace　which　alone　can
excuse　deliberate　picturesqueness。　His　eyes　and　mouth　are　by　no
means　rascally；　he　has　a　fine　voice　and　a　ready　wit；　and　whether
he　is　really　the　strongest　man　in　the　party；　or　not；　he　looks　it。
He　is　certainly；　the　best　fed；　the　best　dressed；　and　the　best
trained。　The　fact　that　he　speaks　English　is　not　unexpected　in
spite　of　the　Spanish　landscape；　for　with　the　exception　of　one　man
who　might　be　guessed　as　a　bullfighter　ruined　by　drink　and　one
unmistakable　Frenchman；　they　are　all　cockney　or　American；
therefore；　in　a　land　of　cloaks　and　sombreros；　they　mostly