the angel and the author-第26节

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it's　like　when　you're　married。〃

My　friend　H。　G。　Wells　wrote　a　book；　〃The　Island　of　Dr。　Moreau。〃　　I　
read　it　in　MS。　one　winter　evening　in　a　lonely　country　house　upon　the　
hills；　wind　screaming　to　wind　in　the　dark　without。　　The　story　has　
haunted　me　ever　since。　　I　hear　the　wind's　shrill　laughter。　　The　
doctor　had　taken　the　beasts　of　the　forest；　apes；　tigers；　strange　
creatures　from　the　deep；　had　fashioned　them　with　hideous　cruelty　into　
the　shapes　of　men；　had　given　them　souls；　had　taught　to　them　the　law。　　
In　all　things　else　were　they　human；　but　their　original　instincts　
their　creator's　skill　had　failed　to　eliminate。　　All　their　lives　were　
one　long　torture。　　The　Law　said；　〃We　are　men　and　women；　this　we　shall　
do；　this　we　shall　not　do。〃　　But　the　ape　and　tiger　still　cried　aloud　
within　them。

Civilization　lays　her　laws　upon　us；　they　are　the　laws　of　godsof　the　
men　that　one　day；　perhaps；　shall　come。　　But　the　primeval　creature　of　
the　cave　still　cries　within　us。

＇A　few　rules　for　Married　Happiness。＇

The　wonder　is　that　not　being　godsbeing　mere　men　and　womenmarriage　
works　out　as　well　as　it　does。　　We　take　two　creatures　with　the　
instincts　of　the　ape　still　stirring　within　them；　two　creatures　
fashioned　on　the　law　of　selfishness；　two　self…centred　creatures　of　
opposite　appetites；　of　desires　opposed　to　one　another；　of　differing　
moods　and　fancies；　two　creatures　not　yet　taught　the　lesson　of　self…
control；　of　self…renunciation；　and　bind　them　together　for　life　in　an　
union　so　close　that　one　cannot　snore　o'nights　without　disturbing　the　
other's　rest；　that　one　cannot；　without　risk　to　happiness；　have　a　
single　taste　unshared　by　the　other；　that　neither；　without　danger　of　
upsetting　the　whole　applecart；　so　to　speak；　can　have　an　opinion　with　
which　the　other　does　not　heartedly　agree。

Could　two　angels　exist　together　on　such　terms　without　ever　
quarrelling？　　I　doubt　it。　　To　make　marriage　the　ideal　we　love　to　
picture　it　in　romance；　the　elimination　of　human　nature　is　the　first　
essential。　　Supreme　unselfishness；　perfect　patience；　changeless　
amiability；　we　should　have　to　start　with；　and　continue　with；　until　
the　end。

＇The　real　Darby　and　Joan。＇

I　do　not　believe　in　the　〃Darby　and　Joan〃　of　the　song。　　They　belong　to　
song…land。　　To　accept　them　I　need　a　piano；　a　sympathetic　contralto　
voice；　a　firelight　effect；　and　that　sentimental　mood　in　myself；　the　
foundation　of　which　is　a　good　dinner　well　digested。　　But　there　are　
Darbys　and　Joans　of　real　flesh　and　blood　to　be　met　withGod　bless　
them；　and　send　more　for　our　examplewholesome　living　men　and　women；　
brave；　struggling；　souls　with　common…sense。　　Ah；　yes！　they　have　
quarrelled；　had　their　dark　house　of　bitterness；　of　hate；　when　he　
wished　to　heaven　he　had　never　met　her；　and　told　her　so。　　How　could　he　
have　guessed　those　sweet　lips　could　utter　such　cruel　words；　those　
tender　eyes；　he　loved　to　kiss；　flash　with　scorn　and　anger？

And　she；　had　she　known　what　lay　behind；　those　days　when　he　knelt　
before　her；　swore　that　his　only　dream　was　to　save　her　from　all　pain。　　
Passion　lies　dead；　it　is　a　flame　that　burns　out　quickly。　　The　most　
beautiful　face　in　the　world　grows　indifferent　to　us　when　we　have　sat　
opposite　it　every　morning　at　breakfast；　every　evening　at　supper；　for　
a　brief　year　or　two。　　Passion　is　the　seed。　　Love　grows　from　it；　a　
tender　sapling；　beautiful　to　look　upon；　but　wondrous　frail；　easily　
broken；　easily　trampled　on　during　those　first　years　of　wedded　life。　　
Only　by　much　nursing；　by　long　caring…for；　watered　with　tears；　shall　
it　grow　into　a　sturdy　tree；　defiant　of　the　winds；　'neath　which　Darby　
and　Joan　shall　sit　sheltered　in　old　age。

They　had　commonsense；　brave　hearts。　　Darby　had　expected　too　much。　　
Darby　had　not　made　allowance　for　human　nature　which　he　ought　to　have　
done；　seeing　how　much　he　had　of　it　himself。　　Joan　knows　he　did　not　
mean　it。　　Joan　has　a　nasty　temper；　she　admits　it。　　Joan　will　try；　
Darby　will　try。　　They　kiss　again　with　tears。　　It　is　a　workaday　world；　
Darby　and　Joan　will　take　it　as　it　is；　will　do　their　best。　　A　little　
kindness；　a　little　clasping　of　the　hands　before　night　comes。

＇Many　ways　of　Love＇

Youth　deems　it　heresy；　but　I　sometimes　wonder　if　our　English　speaking　
way　is　quite　the　best。　　I　discussed　the　subject　once　with　an　old　
French　lady。　　The　English　reader　forms　his　idea　of　French　life　from　
the　French　novel；　it　leads　to　mistaken　notions。　　There　are　French　
Darbys；　French　Joans；　many　thousands　of　them。

〃Believe　me；〃　said　my　old　French　friend；　〃your　English　way　is　wrong；　
our　way　is　not　perfect；　but　it　is　the　better；　I　am　sure。　　You　leave　
it　entirely　to　the　young　people。　　What　do　they　know　of　life；　of　
themselves；　even。　　He　falls　in　love　with　a　pretty　face。　　Shehe　
danced　so　well！　he　was　so　agreeable　that　day　of　the　picnic！　　If　
marriage　were　only　for　a　month　or　so；　could　be　ended　without　harm　
when　the　passion　was　burnt　out。　　Ah；　yes！　then　perhaps　you　would　be　
right。　　I　loved　at　eighteen；　madlynearly　broke　my　heart。　　I　meet　
him　occasionally　now。　　My　dear〃her　hair　was　silvery　white；　and　I　
was　only　thirty…five；　she　always　called　me　〃my　dear〃；　it　is　pleasant　
at　thirty…five　to　be　talked　to　as　a　child。　　〃He　was　a　perfect　brute；　
handsome　he　had　been；　yes；　but　all　that　was　changed。　　He　was　as　
stupid　as　an　ox。　　I　never　see　his　poor　frightened…looking　wife　
without　shuddering　thinking　of　what　I　have　escaped。　　They　told　me　all　
that；　but　I　looked　only　at　his　face；　and　did　not　believe　them。　　They　
forced　me　into　marriage　with　the　kindest　man　that　ever　lived。　　I　did　
not　love　him　then；　but　I　loved　him　for　thirty　years；　was　it　not　
better？〃

〃But；　my　dear　friend；〃　I　answered；　〃that　poor；　frightened…looking　
wife　of　your　first　love！　　Her　marriage　also　was；　I　take　it；　the　
result　of　parental　choosing。　　The　love　marriage；　I　admit；　as　often　as　
not　turns　out　sadly。　　The　children　choose　ill。　　Parents　also　choose　
ill。　　I　fear　there　is　no　sure　receipt　for　the　happy　marriage。〃

〃You　are　arguing　from　bad　examples；〃　answered　my　silver…haired　
friend；　〃it　is　the　system　that　I　am　defending。　　A　young　girl　is　no　
judge　of　character。　　She　is　easily　deceived；　is　wishful　to　be　
deceived。　　As　I　have　said；　she　does　not　even　know　herself。　　She　
imagines　the　mood　of　the　moment　will　remain　with　her。　　Only　those　who　
have　watched　over　her　with　loving　insight　from　her　infancy　know　her　
real　temperament。

〃The　young　man　is　blinded　by　his　passion。　　Nature　knows　nothing　of　
marriage；　of　companionship。　　She　has　only　one　aim。　　That　
accomplished；　she　is　indifferent　to　the　future　of　those　she　has　
joined　together。　　I　would　have　parents　think　only　of　their　children's　
happiness；　giving　to　worldly　considerations　their　true　value；　but　
nothing　beyond；　choosing　for　their　children　with　loving　care；　with　
sense　of　their　great　responsibility。〃

＇Which　is　it？＇

〃I　fear　our　young　people　would　not　be　contented　with　our　choosing；〃　I　
suggested。

〃Are　they　so　contented　with　their　own；　the　honeymoon　over？〃　she　
responded　with　a　smile。

We　agreed　it　was　a　difficult　problem　viewed　from　any　point。

But　I　still　think　it　would　be　better　were　we　to　heap　less　ridicule　
upon　the　institution。　　Matrimony　cannot　be　〃holy〃　and　ridiculous　at　
the　same　time。　　We　have　been　familiar　with　it　long　enough　to　make　up　
our　minds　in　which　light　to　regard　it。



CHAPTER　XIX



＇Man　and　his　Tailor。＇

What's　wrong　with　the　〃Made…up　Tie〃？　　I　gather　from　the　fashionable　
novelist　that　no　man　can　wear　a　made…up　tie　and　be　a　gentleman。　　He　
may　be　a　worthy　man；　clever；　well…to…do；　eligible　from　every　other　
point　of　view；　but　She；　the　refined　heroine；　can　never　get　over　the　
fact　that　he　wears　a　made…up　tie。　　It　causes　a　shudder　down　her　high…
bred　spine　whenever　she　thinks　of　it。　　There　is　nothing　else　to　be　
said　against　him。　　There　is　nothing　worse　about　him　than　thishe　
wears　a　made…up　tie。　　It　is　all　sufficient。　　No　true　woman　could　ever　
care　for　him；　no　really　classy　society　ever　open　its　doors　to　him。

I　am　worried　about　this　thing　because；　to　confess　the　horrid　truth；　I　
wear　a　made…up　tie　myself。　　On　foggy　afternoons　I　steal　out　of　the　
house　disguised。　　They　ask　me　where　I　am　going　in　a　hat　that　comes　
down　over　my　ears；　and　why　I　am　wearing　blue　spectacles　and　a　false　
beard；　but　I　will　not　tell　them。　　I　creep　along　the　wall　till　I　find　
a　common　hosier's　shop；　and　then；　in　an　assumed　voice；　I　tell　the　man　
what　it　is　I　want。　　They　come　to　fourpence　halfpenny　each；　by　taking　
the　half…dozen　I　get　them　for　a　trifle　less。　　They　are　put　on　in　a　
moment；　and；　to　my　vulgar　eye；　look　neat　and　tasteful。

Of　course；　I　know　I　am　not　a　gentleman。　　I　have　given　up　hopes　of　
ever　being　one。　　Years　ago；　when　life　presented　possibilities；　I　
thought　that　with　pains　and　intelligence　I　might　become　one。　　I　never　
succeeded。　　It　all　depends　on　being　able　to　tie　a　bow。　　Round　the　
bed…post；　or　the　neck　of　the　water…jug；　I　could　tie　the　wretched　
thing　to　perfection。　　If　only　the　bed…post　or　the　water…jug　could　
have　taken　my　place　and　gone　to　the　party　instead　of　me；　life　would　
have　been　simpler。　　The　bed…post　and　the　water…jug；　in　its　neat　white　
bow；　looked　like　a　gentlemanthe　fas