an unsocial socialist-第56节

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have；　I　am　told；　arisen　among　readers　who　from　inveterate　habit
cannot　bring　the　persons　and　events　of　a　novel　into　any　relation
with　the　actual　conditions　of　life。

In　the　first　place；　then；　I　desire　to　say　that　Mrs。　Erskine　is
not　dead　of　a　broken　heart。　Erskine　and　I　and　our　wives　are　very
much　in　and　out　at　one　another's　houses；　and　I　am　therefore　in　a
position　to　declare　that　Mrs。　Erskine；　having　escaped　by　her
marriage　from　the　vile　caste　in　which　she　was　relatively　poor　and
artificially　unhappy　and　ill…conditioned；　is　now；　as　the　pretty
wife　of　an　art…critic；　relatively　rich；　as　well　as　pleasant；
active；　and　in　sound　health。　Her　chief　trouble；　as　far　as　I　can
judge；　is　the　impossibility　of　shaking　off　her　distinguished
relatives；　who　furtively　quit　their　abject　splendor　to　drop　in
upon　her　for　dinner　and　a　little　genuine　human　society　much
oftener　than　is　convenient　to　poor　Erskine。　She　has　taken　a
patronizing　fancy　to　her　father；　the　Admiral；　who　accepts　her
condescension　gratefully　as　age　brings　more　and　more　home　to　him
the　futility　of　his　social　position。　She　has　also；　as　might　have
been　expected；　become　an　extreme　advocate　of　socialism；　and
indeed；　being　in　a　great　hurry　for　the　new　order　of　things；　looks
on　me　as　a　lukewarm　disciple　because　I　do　not　propose　to
interfere　with　the　slowly　grinding　mill　of　Evolution；　and　effect
the　change　by　one　tremendous　stroke　from　the　united　and　awakened
people　（for　such　shevainly；　alas！believes　the　proletariat
already　to　be。　As　to　my　own　marriage；　some　have　asked
sarcastically　whether　I　ran　away　again　or　not；　others；　whether　it
has　been　a　success。　These　are　foolish　questions。　My　marriage　has
turned　out　much　as　I　expected　it　would。　I　find　that　my　wife's
views　on　the　subject　vary　with　the　circumstances　under　which　they
are　expressed。

I　have　now　to　make　one　or　two　comments　on　the　impressions
conveyed　by　the　style　of　your　narrative。　Sufficient　prominence
has　not；　in　my　opinion；　been　given　to　the　extraordinary　destiny
of　my　father；　the　true　hero　of　a　nineteenth　century　romance。　I；
who　have　seen　society　reluctantly　accepting　works　of　genius　for
nothing　from　men　of　extraordinary　gifts；　and　at　the　same　time
helplessly　paying　my　father　millions；　and　submitting　to　monstrous
mortgages　of　its　future　production；　for　a　few　directions　as　to
the　most　business…like　way　of　manufacturing　and　selling　cotton；
cannot　but　wonder；　as　I　prepare　my　income…tax　returns；　whether
society　was　mad　to　sacrifice　thus　to　him　and　to　me。　He　was　the
man　with　power　to　buy；　to　build；　to　choose；　to　endow；　to　sit　on
committees　and　adjudicate　upon　designs；　to　make　his　own　terms　for
placing　anything　on　a　sound　business　footing。　He　was　hated；
envied；　sneered　at　for　his　low　origin；　reproached　for　his
ignorance；　yet　nothing　would　pay　unless　he　liked　or　pretended　to
like　it。　I　look　round　at　our　buildings；　our　statues；　our
pictures；　our　newspapers；　our　domestic　interiors；　our　books；　our
vehicles；　our　morals；　our　manners；　our　statutes；　and　our
religion；　and　I　see　his　hand　everywhere；　for　they　were　all　made
or　modified　to　please　him。　Those　which　did　not　please　him　failed
commercially：　he　would　not　buy　them；　or　sell　them；　or　countenance
them；　and　except　through　him；　as　〃master　of　the　industrial
situation；〃　nothing　could　be　bought；　or　sold；　or　countenanced。
The　landlord　could　do　nothing　with　his　acres　except　let　them　to
him；　the　capitalist's　hoard　rotted　and　dwindled　until　it　was　lent
to　him；　the　worker's　muscles　and　brain　were　impotent　until　sold
to　him。　What　king's　son　would　not　exchange　with　methe　son　of
the　Great　Employerthe　Merchant　Prince？　No　wonder　they　proposed
to　imprison　me　for　treason　when；　by　applying　my　inherited
business　talent；　I　put　forward　a　plan　for　securing　his　full
services　to　society　for　a　few　hundred　a　year。　But　pending　the
adoption　of　my　plan；　do　not　describe　him　contemptuously　as　a
vulgar　tradesman。　Industrial　kingship；　the　only　real　kingship　of
our　century；　was　his　by　divine　right　of　his　turn　for　business；
and　I；　his　son；　bid　you　respect　the　crown　whose　revenues　I
inherit。　If　you　don't；　my　friend；　your　book　won't　pay。

I　hear；　with　some　surprise；　that　the　kindness　of　my　conduct　to
Henrietta　（my　first　wife；　you　recollect）　has　been　called　in
question；　why；　I　do　not　exactly　know。　Undoubtedly　I　should　not
have　married　her；　but　it　is　waste　of　time　to　criticise　the
judgment　of　a　young　man　in　love。　Since　I　do　not　approve　of　the
usual　plan　of　neglecting　and　avoiding　a　spouse　without　ceasing　to
keep　up　appearances；　I　cannot　for　the　life　of　me　see　what　else　I
could　have　done　than　vanish　when　I　found　out　my　mistake。　It　is
but　a　short…sighted　policy　to　wait　for　the　mending　of　matters
that　are　bound　to　get　worse。　The　notion　that　her　death　was　my
fault　is　sheer　unreason　on　the　face　of　it；　and　I　need　no
exculpation　on　that　score；　but　I　must　disclaim　the　credit　of
having　borne　her　death　like　a　philosopher。　I　ought　to　have　done
so；　but　the　truth　is　that　I　was　greatly　affected　at　the　moment；
and　the　proof　of　it　is　that　I　and　Jansenius　（the　only　other
person　who　cared）　behaved　in　a　most　unbecoming　fashion；　as　men
invariably　do　when　they　are　really　upset。　Perfect　propriety　at　a
death　is　seldom　achieved　except　by　the　undertaker；　who　has　the
advantage　of　being　free　from　emotion。

Your　rigmarole　（if　you　will　excuse　the　word）　about　the　tombstone
gives　quite　a　wrong　idea　of　my　attitude　on　that　occasion。　I
stayed　away　from　the　funeral　for　reasons　which　are；　I　should
think；　sufficiently　obvious　and　natural；　but　which　you　somehow
seem　to　have　missed。　Granted　that　my　fancy　for　Hetty　was　only　a
cloud　of　illusions；　still　I　could　not；　within　a　few　days　of　her
sudden　death；　go　in　cold　blood　to　take　part　in　a　grotesque　and
heathenish　mummery　over　her　coffin。　I　should　have　broken　out　and
strangled　somebody。　But　on　every　other　point　Iweakly
enoughsacrificed　my　own　feelings　to　those　of　Jansenius。　I　let
him　have　his　funeral；　though　I　object　to　funerals　and　to　the
practice　of　sepulture。　I　consented　to　a　monument；　although　there
is；　to　me；　no　more　bitterly　ridiculous　outcome　of　human　vanity
than　the　blocks　raised　to　tell　posterity　that　John　Smith；　or　Jane
Jackson；　late　of　this　parish；　was　born；　lived；　and　died　worth
enough　money　to　pay　a　mason　to　distinguish　their　bones　from　those
of　the　unrecorded　millions。　To　gratify　Jansenius　I　waived　this
objection；　and　only　interfered　to　save　him　from　being　fleeced　and
fooled　by　an　unnecessary　West　End　middleman；　who；　as　likely　as
not；　would　have　eventually　employed　the　very　man　to　whom　I　gave
the　job。　Even　the　epitaph　was　not　mine。　If　I　had　had　my　way　I
should　have　written：　〃HENRIETTA　JANSENIUS　WAS　BORN　ON　SUCH　A
DATE；　MARRIED　A　MAN　NAMED　TREFUSIS；　AND　DIED　ON　SUCH　ANOTHER
DATE；　AND　NOW　WHAT　DOES　IT　MATTER　WHETHER　SHE　DID　OR　NOT？〃　The
whole　notion　conveyed　in　the　book　that　I　rode　rough…shod　over
everybody　in　the　affair；　and　only　consulted　my　own　feelings；　is
the　very　reverse　of　the　truth。

As　to　the　tomfoolery　down　at　Brandon's；　which　ended　in　Erskine
and　myself　marrying　the　young　lady　visitors　there；　I　can　only
congratulate　you　on　the　determination　with　which　you　have　striven
to　make　something　like　a　romance　out　of　such　very　thin　material。
I　cannot　say　that　I　remember　it　all　exactly　as　you　have　described
it；　my　wife　declares　flatly　there　is　not　a　word　of　truth　in　it　as
far　as　she　is　concerned；　and　Mrs。　Erskine　steadily　refuses　to
read　the　book。

On　one　point　I　must　acknowledge　that　you　have　proved　yourself　a
master　of　the　art　of　fiction。　What　Hetty　and　I　said　to　one
another　that　day　when　she　came　upon　me　in　the　shrubbery　at　Alton
College　was　known　only　to　us　two。　She　never　told　it　to　anyone；
and　I　soon　forgot　it。　All　due　honor；　therefore；　to　the　ingenuity
with　which　you　have　filled　the　hiatus；　and　shown　the　state　of
affairs　between　us　by　a　discourse　on　〃　surplus　value；〃　cribbed
from　an　imperfect　report　of　one　of　my　public　lectures；　and　from
the　pages　of　Karl　Marx！　If　you　were　an　economist　I　should　condemn
you　for　confusing　economic　with　ethical　considerations；　and　for
your　uncertainty　as　to　the　function　which　my　father　got　his　start
by　performing。　But　as　you　are　only　a　novelist；　I　compliment　you
heartily　on　your　clever　little　pasticcio；　adding；　however；　that
as　an　account　of　what　actually　passed　between　myself　and　Hetty；
it　is　the　wildest　romance　ever　penned。　Wickens's　boy　was　far
nearer　the　mark。

In　conclusion；　allow　me　to　express　my　regret　that　you　can　find　no
better　employment　for　your　talent　than　the　writing　of　novels。　The
first　literary　result　of　the　foundation　of　our　industrial　system
upon　the　profits　of　piracy　and　slave…trading　was　Shakspere。　It　is
our　misfortune　that　the　sordid　misery　and　hopeless　horror　of　his
view　of　man's　destiny　is　still　so　appropriate　to　English　society
that　we　even　to…day　regard　him　as　not　for　an　age；　but　for　all
time。　But　the　poetry　of　despair　will　not　outlive　despair　itself。
Your　nineteenth　century　novelists　are　only　the　tail　of　Shakspere。
Don't　tie　yourself　to　it：　it　is　fast　wriggling　into　oblivion。

I　am；　dear　sir；　yours　truly；

SIDNEY　TREFUSIS。






End