the angel and the author-第12节

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pleads　to　him　for　one　last　favour：　　that　he　will　go　away　where　
neither　she　nor　anybody　else　of　any　importance　will　ever　see　him　or　
hear　of　him　again。　　That's　all　she　asks　of　him。　　If　he　make　a　point　
of　it　she　willthough　her　costume　is　ill　adapted　to　the　exercisego　
down　upon　her　knees　to　ask　it　of　him。

He　brutally　retorts　that　he　doesn't　know　where　to　〃get。〃　　The　lady　
travels　round　a　good　deal　and　seems　to　be　in　most　places。　　She　
accepts　week…end　invitations　to　the　houses　of　his　nearest　relatives。　　
She　has　married　his　first　cousin；　and　is　now　getting　up　a　bazaar　with　
the　help　of　his　present　wife。　　How　he　is　to　avoid　her　he　does　not　
quite　see。

Perhaps；　by　the　by；　that　is　really　the　Problem：　　where　is　the　early　
husband　to　disappear　to？　　Even　if　every　time　he　saw　her　coming　he　
were　to　duck　under　the　table；　somebody　would　be　sure　to　notice　it　and　
make　remarks。　　Ought　he　to　take　himself　out　one　dark　night；　tie　a　
brick　round　his　neck；　and　throw　himself　into　a　pond？

＇What　is　a　Lady　to　do　with　a　Husband　when　she　has　finished　with　him？＇

But　men　are　so　selfish。　　The　idea　does　not　even　occur　to　him；　and　the　
lady　herself　is　too　generous　to　do　more　than　just　hint　at　it。

Maybe　it　is　Society　that　is　to　blame。　　There　comes　a　luminous　moment　
when　it　is　suddenly　revealed　to　the　Heroine　of　the　Problem　Play　that　
it　is　Society　that　is　at　the　bottom　of　this　thing。　　She　has　felt　all　
along　there　was　something　the　matter。　　Why　has　she　never　thought　of　
it　before？　　Here　all　these　years　has　she　been　going　about　blaming　her　
poor　old　father；　her　mother　for　dying　too　soon；　the　remarkable　
circumstances　attending　her　girlhood；　that　dear　old　stupid　husband　
she　thought　was　hers；　and　all　the　while　the　really　culpable　party　has　
been　existing　unsuspected　under　her　very　nose。　　She　clears　away　the　
furniture　a　bit；　and　tells　Society　exactly　what　she　thinks　of　itshe　
is　always　good　at　that；　telling　people　what　she　thinks　of　them。　　
Other　people's　failings　do　not　escape　her；　not　for　long。　　If　Society　
would　only　step　out　for　a　moment；　and　look　at　itself　with　her　eyes；　
something　might　be　done。　　If　Society；　now　that　the　thing　has　been　
pointed　out　to　it；　has　still　any　lingering　desire　to　live；　let　it　
look　at　her。　　This；　that　she　is；　Society　has　made　her！　　Let　Society　
have　a　walk　round　her；　and　then　go　home　and　reflect。

＇Could　sheherselfhave　been　to　blame？＇

It　lifts　a　load　from　us；　fixing　the　blame　on　Society。　　There　were　
periods　in　the　play　when　we　hardly　knew　what　to　think。　　The　
scientific　father；　the　dead　mother；　the　early　husband！　it　was　
difficult　to　grasp　the　fact　that　they　alone　were　to　blame。　　One　felt　
there　was　something　to　be　said　for　even　them。　　Ugly　thoughts　would　
cross　our　mind　that　perhaps　the　Heroine　herself　was　not　altogether　
irreproachablethat　possibly　there　would　have　been　less　Problem；　if；　
thinking　a　little　less　about　her　clothes；　yearning　a　little　less　to　
do　nothing　all　day　long　and　be　perfectly　happy；　she　had　pulled　
herself　together；　told　herself　that　the　world　was　not　built　
exclusively　for　her；　and　settled　down　to　the　existence　of　an　ordinary　
decent　woman。

Looking　at　the　thing　all　round；　that　is　perhaps　the　best　solution　of　
the　Problem：　　it　is　Society　that　is　to　blame。　　We　had　better　keep　to　
that。



CHAPTER　IX



＇Civilization　and　the　Unemployed。＇

Where　Civilization　fails　is　in　not　providing　men　and　women　with　
sufficient　work。　　In　the　Stone　Age　man　was；　one　imagines；　kept　busy。　　
When　he　was　not　looking　for　his　dinner；　or　eating　his　dinner；　or　
sleeping　off　the　effects　of　his　dinner；　he　was　hard　at　work　with　a　
club；　clearing　the　neighbourhood　of　what　one　doubts　not　he　would　have　
described　as　aliens。　　The　healthy　Palaeolithic　man　would　have　had　a　
contempt　for　Cobden　rivalling　that　of　Mr。　Chamberlain　himself。　　He　
did　not　take　the　incursion　of　the　foreigner　〃lying　down。〃　　One　
pictures　him　in　the　mind's　eye：　　unscientific；　perhaps；　but　active　to　
a　degree　difficult　to　conceive　in　these　degenerate　days。　　Now　up　a　
tree　hurling　cocoa…nuts；　the　next　moment　on　the　ground　flinging　roots　
and　rocks。　　Both　having　tolerably　hard　heads；　the　argument　would　of　
necessity　be　long　and　heated。　　Phrases　that　have　since　come　to　be　
meaningless　had；　in　those　days；　a　real　significance。

When　a　Palaeolithic　politician　claimed　to　have　〃crushed　his　critic；〃　
he　meant　that　he　had　succeeded　in　dropping　a　tree　or　a　ton　of　earth　
upon　him。　　When　it　was　said　that　one　bright　and　intelligent　member　of　
that　early　sociology　had　〃annihilated　his　opponent；〃　that　opponent's　
friends　and　relations　took　no　further　interest　in　him。　　It　meant　that　
he　was　actually　annihilated。　　Bits　of　him　might　be　found；　but　the　
most　of　him　would　be　hopelessly　scattered。　　When　the　adherents　of　any　
particular　Cave　Dweller　remarked　that　their　man　was　wiping　the　floor　
with　his　rival；　it　did　not　mean　that　he　was　talking　himself　red　in　
the　face　to　a　bored　audience　of　sixteen　friends　and　a　reporter。　　It　
meant　that　he　was　dragging　that　rival　by　the　legs　round　the　enclosure　
and　making　the　place　damp　and　untidy　with　him。

＇Early　instances　of　〃Dumping。〃＇

Maybe　the　Cave　Dweller；　finding　nuts　in　his　own　neighbourhood　growing　
scarce；　would　emigrate　himself：　　for　even　in　that　age　the　politician　
was　not　always　logical。　　Thus　roles　became　reversed。　　The　defender　of　
his　country　became　the　alien；　dumping　himself　where　he　was　not　
wanted。　　The　charm　of　those　early　political　arguments　lay　in　their　
simplicity。　　A　child　could　have　followed　every　point。　　There　could　
never　have　been　a　moment's　doubt；　even　among　his　own　followers；　as　to　
what　a　Palaeolithic　statesman　really　meant　to　convey。　　At　the　close　
of　the　contest　the　party　who　considered　it　had　won　the　moral　victory　
would　be　cleared　away；　or　buried　neatly　on　the　spot；　according　to　
taste：　　and　the　discussion；　until　the　arrival　of　the　next　generation；　
was　voted　closed。

All　this　must　have　been　harassing；　but　it　did　serve　to　pass　away　the　
time。　　Civilization　has　brought　into　being　a　section　of　the　community　
with　little　else　to　do　but　to　amuse　itself。　　For　youth　to　play　is　
natural；　the　young　barbarian　plays；　the　kitten　plays；　the　colt　
gambols；　the　lamb　skips。　　But　man　is　the　only　animal　that　gambols　and　
jumps　and　skips　after　it　has　reached　maturity。　　Were　we　to　meet　an　
elderly　bearded　goat；　springing　about　in　the　air　and　behaving；　
generally　speaking；　like　a　kid；　we　should　say　it　had　gone　mad。　　Yet　
we　throng　in　our　thousands　to　watch　elderly　ladies　and　gentlemen　
jumping　about　after　a　ball；　twisting　themselves　into　strange　shapes；　
rushing；　racing；　falling　over　one　another；　and　present　them　with　
silver…backed　hair…brushes　and　gold…handled　umbrellas　as　a　reward　to　
them　for　doing　so。

Imagine　some　scientific　inhabitant　of　one　of　the　larger　fixed　stars　
examining　us　through　a　magnifying…glass　as　we　examine　ants。　　Our　
amusements　would　puzzle　him。　　The　ball　of　all　sorts　and　sizes；　from　
the　marble　to　the　pushball；　would　lead　to　endless　scientific　
argument。

〃What　is　it？　　Why　are　these　men　and　women　always　knocking　it　about；　
seizing　it　wherever　and　whenever　they　find　it　and　worrying　it？〃

The　observer　from　that　fixed　star　would　argue　that　the　Ball　must　be　
some　malignant　creature　of　fiendish　power；　the　great　enemy　of　the　
human　race。　　Watching　our　cricket…fields；　our　tennis…courts；　our　golf　
links；　he　would　conclude　that　a　certain　section　of　mankind　had　been　
told　off　to　do　battle　with　the　〃Ball〃　on　behalf　of　mankind　in　
general。

〃As　a　rule；〃　so　he　would　report；　〃it　is　a　superior　class　of　insect　to　
which　this　special　duty　has　been　assigned。　　They　are　a　friskier；　
gaudier　species　than　their　fellows。

＇Cricket；　as　viewed　from　the　fixed　Stars。＇

〃For　this　one　purpose　they　appear　to　be　kept　and　fed。　　They　do　no　
other　work；　so　far　as　I　have　been　able　to　ascertain。　　Carefully　
selected　and　trained；　their　mission　is　to　go　about　the　world　looking　
for　Balls。　　Whenever　they　find　a　Ball　they　set　to　work　to　kill　it。　　
But　the　vitality　of　these　Balls　is　extraordinary。　　There　is　a　medium…
sized；　reddish　species　that；　on　an　average；　takes　three　days　to　kill。　　
When　one　of　these　is　discovered；　specially　trained　champions　are　
summoned　from　every　corner　of　the　country。　　They　arrive　in　hot　haste；　
eager　for　the　battle；　which　takes　place　in　the　presence　of　the　entire　
neighbourhood。　　The　number　of　champions　for　some　reason　or　another　is　
limited　to　twenty…two。　　Each　one　seizing　in　turn　a　large　piece　of　
wood；　rushes　at　the　Ball　as　it　flies　along　the　ground；　or　through　the　
air；　and　strikes　at　it　with　all　his　force。　　When；　exhausted；　he　can　
strike　no　longer；　he　throws　down　his　weapon　and　retires　into　a　tent；　
where　he　is　restored　to　strength　by　copious　draughts　of　a　drug　the　
nature　of　which　I　have　been　unable　to　discover。　　Meanwhile；　another　
has　picked　up　the　fallen　weapon；　and　the　contest　is　continued　without　
a　moment's　interruption。　　The　Ball　makes　frantic　efforts　to　escape　
from　its　tormentors；　but　every　time　it　is　captured　and　flung　back。　　
So　far　as　can　be　observed；　it　makes　no　attempt　at　retaliation；　its　
only　object　being　to　get　away；　though；　occasionallyw