It was a long and rambling exposition.
Miss Wilberforce must be protected against herself. They came to him
for a contribution, however small, which would enable Mr. van Koppen to
fulfil his promise. It was not a question of meddlesomeness. It was a
question of putting an end to a crying public scandal. Miss Wilberforce
spent her days in sleeping, and her nights in shocking the population
of Nepenthe. The lady should be temporarily secluded in her own
interests; she was not fit to be left alone; it was an act of charity
to do what one could towards improving her health and prolonging her
life. They were out for a philanthropic object--to assist in helping a
fellow creature. Miss Wilberforce must be protected against herself.
Mr. van Koppen's half-million would enable them to compass this end.
His own contribution, however small, would enable Mr. van Koppen to
fulfil his promise. Miss Wilberforce must be protected--
He quite understood. Miss Wilberforce must be protected against
herself. And he disagreed heartily. Nobody must be protected against
himself. The attitude of a man towards his fellows should be that of
non-intervention, of benevolent egotism. Every person of healthy
digestion was aware of that cardinal truth. Unfortunately persons of
healthy digestions were not as common as they might be. That was why
straight thinking, on these and other subjects, was at a discount.
Nobody had a right to call himself well-disposed towards society until
he had grasped the elementary fact that the only way to improve the
universe was to improve oneself, and to leave one's neighbour alone.
The best way to begin improving oneself was to keep one's own bowels
open, and not trouble about those of anybody else. Turkey rhubarb, in
fact. The serenity of outlook thereby attained would enable a man to
perceive the futility of interfering with the operation of natural
selection.
The speaker, he went on, had dropped the word charity. Had the tribe of
Israel cultivated a smattering of respect for physiology or any other
useful science instead of fussing about supernatural pedigrees, they
would have been more cautious as to their diet. Had they been careful
in the matter of dietary, their sacred writings would never have seen
the light of day. Those writings, a monument of malnutrition and faulty
digestive processes, were responsible for three-quarters of what was
called charity. Charity was responsible for the greater part of human
mischief and misery. The revenues of the private charities of London
alone exceeded five million sterling annually. What were these revenues
expended upon? On keeping alive an incredible number of persons who
ought to be dead. What was the result of keeping these people alive? A
deterioration of the whole race. Charity consisted in setting a premium
on bodily ill-health and mental inefficiency. Charity was an Oriental
nightmare; an endeavour to raise the week to the level of the strong;
an incitement to improvidence. Charity disturbed the national
equilibrium; it lowered the standard of mankind instead of raising it.
Charity was an unmitigated nuisance which had increased, was
increasing, and ought to be diminished.
By way of varying the phraseology, but not the thing, they had called
themselves philanthropists. The meaning of that venerable word had
decayed of late in characteristic fashion. Prometheus, the archetype,
brought fire from Heaven to comfort certain people who had the wit to
appreciate its uses. He did not waste his time wet-nursing the unfit,
like a modern philanthropist. What was a modern philanthropist? He was
a fellow who was always bothering you to do something for somebody
else. He appealed to your purse for the supposed welfare of some pet
degenerate. Prometheus appealed to your intelligence for the real
welfare of rational beings. A rich man found it extremely simple, no
doubt, to sign a cheque. But an act was not necessarily sensible
because it happened to be simple. People ought to dominate their
reflexes. Prometheus did not choose the simplest course--he chose the
wisest, and found it a pretty tough job, too. That alone proved him to
have been a man of sound digestion and robust health. Had it been
otherwise, indeed, he would never have endured that vulture--business
for so long.
The deputation exchanged glances, puzzled by this pompous and peevish
exordium. It did not promise well; it sounded quite unlike Mr. Keith's
usually bland address. Perhaps he had not yet breakfasted. "We ought to
have waited," they thought. One of the listeners was so annoyed that he
began:
"A paradox, Mr. Keith, is not necessarily sensible, because it happens
to be simple"--but was overborne by that gentleman, who proceeded
calmly:
"So much for generalities. Now Miss Wilberforce is a lady of
independent means and of a certain age. She is not an infant, to be
protected against herself or against others; she has reached years of
indiscretion. Like a good many sensible persons she lives in this
country. Of course a residence here has its drawbacks--very grave
drawbacks, some of them. But the drawbacks are counter-balanced by
certain advantages. In short, what applies to one country does not
always apply to the other. Yet you propose to treat her exactly as if
she were living in England. That strikes me as somewhat unreasonable."
"Mr. van Koppen has promised us--"
"He may do what he likes with his money. But I don't see why I should
become the pivot for making my good friend do what strikes me as a
foolish action. I am too fond of him for that. Mr. van Koppen and
myself have many points in common; among other things this feature,
that neither of us is of aristocratic birth. I suspect this is what
made you count on me for a subscription. You thought that I, having a
little money of my own, might be tempted by certain sycophantic
instincts to emulate his misplaced generosity. But I am not a snob.
From the social point of view I don't care a tuppenny damn for anyone.
On the other hand, my origin has given me something of Dr. Samuel
Johnson's respect for what he calls his betters. I like the upper
classes, especially when they behave according to their old traditions.
That is why I like Miss Wilberforce. She conducts herself, if report be
true, with all the shamelessness of a born lady. Born ladies are not so
common that we should hide them away in nursing homes. All forceful
seclusion is dishonouring. Every little insect, drunk or sober, enjoys
its freedom; and if you gentlemen were not philanthropists I would try
to point out how galling your proposal must be, how humiliating to a
high-spirited woman to be placed under lock and key, in charge of some
callous attendant. But to what purpose? Turkey rhubarb--"
"I am afraid, Mr. Keith, that we have come at an inopportune moment?"
"It's quite possible. But I won't keep you much longer--you must be
dying to attend that funeral! In fact, I would not detain you at all if
I did not feel that you expected some kind of explanation from me. What
were we saying?"
"Turkey rhubarb."
"Ah, yes! I was trying to be fair-minded which, by the way, is a
general mistake. It struck me that perhaps I over-emphasized its
advantages just now. Because, of course, there is something to be said
against the use of such drugs. In fact, now I come to think of it,
there is a good deal to be said in favour of constipation. It is the
cause of our English spleenfulness, and this spleenfulness, properly
directed, has its uses. It engenders a certain energetic intolerance of
mind. I think the success of our nation is largely due to this
particular quality. If I were an historian I would amuse myself with
proving that we owe not only Magna Charta, but our whole Empire--Canada,
Australia, and all the rest of them--to our costive habits of body. What
befits a nation, however, does not always befit a man. To crush, in a
fit of chronic biliousness, the resistance of Bengal and add its land
to the British Empire, may be a racial virtue. To crush, in a fit of
any kind, the resistance of our next door neighbour Mr. Robinson, and
add his purse to our own, is an individual vice. No! I fail to discover
any personal advantage to be gained from excess of bile. The bilious
eye sees intensely, no doubt, but in a distorted and narrow fashion; it
is incapable of a generous outlook. Cloudy, unserene! A closing-up,
instead of a widening-out. The bowels of compassion: what a wonderful
old phrase! They ought to be kept open. I look around me, and see
extraordinarily little goodwill among my fellow-creatures. Here is Miss
Wilberforce. What she yearns for is the milk of human kindness--gentle
words, gentle dealing, from all of us. Instead of that, every one is
ready to cast stones at her. She is treated like a pariah. For my part
I do not pass her by; I am not ashamed to consort with sinners, if such
they be; I would like, if I could, to make her free and happy instead
of imprisoning her in a place of self-reproach. A healthy man is
naturally well disposed, not on principle or from any divine
inspiration but because his bodily organs are performing their proper
functions. His judgment is not warped by the black humours of
indigestion. He perceives that natural laws, however harsh they seem,
are never so harsh as our amateurish attempts to circumvent them.
Modern philanthropy is an attempt of this nature. It is crass
emotionalism. Regarded from the point of view of the race, your
philanthropy is a disguised form of brutality."
"Mr. Keith!"
"All sentimentalists are criminals."
This perverse balderdash was getting on the nerves of the deputation.
It had one good effect, however. They had been afraid, at first, of
wasting Mr. Keith's time; now they began to realize that he was wasting
theirs.
"Speaking for myself, Mr. Keith, I should say that you are spoiling
your case by over-statement, and that these reflections of yours are
libels upon a class of men and women who devote their time and money,
often their lives, to alleviating the distress of others. However that
may be, they are generalities. We came to you about a practical matter,
and an urgent one. We want to remove a crying scandal from the island.
The habits of Miss Wilberforce, as I think I pointed out, are shocking
to all decent folks. I suppose you won't deny that?"
"I remember your using those words. They struck me as remarkable
because, for my own part, I have not yet discovered any man, woman, or
child who could shock me. Some persons make a profession of being
scandalized. I am profoundly distrustful of them. It is the prerogative
of vulgarians to be shocked. If I ever felt inclined to blush, it would
not be a the crooked behaviour of men, but at their crooked
intellectual processes. Whenever a so-called scandal comes my way, I
thank God for the opportunity of seeing something new and learning
something to my advantage."
"There is nothing very new about the scandalous conduct of Miss
Wilberforce, save her unfortunate habit of divesting herself--"
"Please to note that there is a good deal of loose and exaggerated talk
going on here. But one thing is quite certain. These exhibitions,
supposing they really take place, have never been known to occur until
after midnight--with the lamentable exception of yesterday afternoon,
when it was even darker than midnight. If your decent folks are so
squeamish, what are they doing in the streets at that unearthly hour? I
am asleep them, as they ought to be. This may account for the fact that
I have never seen the lady in a state of alcoholic exhilaration. But if
I had the good luck to stumble upon her, I would certainly not be
shocked."
"And what, may I ask, would you do?"
"My feelings towards the spectacle would depend upon the momentary
state of my mind. I might, for example, be in a frolicsome Elizabethan
mood. In that case I would appreciate the humour of the situation. If
only half of what I hear is true, she must be extremely funny at such
moments. I would probably laugh myself into an apoplexy. I wish the
English still possessed a shred of the old sense of humour which
Puritanism, and dyspepsia, and newspaper reading, and tea-drinking have
nearly extinguished. It ought to be revived afresh. Nothing like a good
drunkard for that purpose. As a laughter-provoking device it is cheaper
and more effective than any pantomime yet invented; and none the worse,
surely, for being a little old-fashioned?"
"I must say, Mr. Keith, I don't think God created anybody to be laughed
at."
"Maybe he didn't. But a fellow can't help laughing, all the same. On
the other hand, I might be in that interfering humanitarian mood which
is liable to beset even the wisest of us. I would then be tempted to
lead her homeward gently but firmly, simulating intoxication, if I
could bring myself to do it--pretending, you understand, to be in the
same state as herself, if I could manage it with any prospect of
success--in order to make her feel thoroughly at ease. I should not
dream of ruffling her state of mind by a single word f reproach; the
private feelings and self-respect, even of a drunkard, should never be
violated. Again, if I were in my ordinary reflective condition, I
should doubtless stand aside and muse, as I have often mused, upon the
folly of intemperance. Drunkenness--that shameful vice! How many
estimable men and women have succumbed to it; men I have known, women I
have loved and even respected! This makes me think that we ought to be
grateful to have so glaring an example of insobriety before our eyes.
We ought to regard Miss Wilberforce, if your account of her be true, as
a Divine warning. Warnings are not sent for nothing. And you
gentlemen--you propose to hide away this heaven-sent warning in a
sanatorium. That strikes me as flying in the face of Providence."
"Our project would at least secure her from the risk of being run over
by some vehicle."
"Pray, why should the dear lady not choose to be run over? Surely she
can please herself? It would be an appropriate ending to a brief and
merry career. It would be more than this. We spoke, just now, of her
example as a deterrent to others. Well, this example, so far as we
spectators are concerned, would lose its point and pungency if she died
as you propose--a half-reclaimed inebriate in some home. She must be run
over, or otherwise violently destroyed, if we are to have the full
benefit of the example. It is only then that we shall be able to say to
ourselves: Ah, we always thought it was risky to drink strong waters,
but NOW WE KNOW."
"A fatal accident of this kind, quite apart from other considerations,
would involve her relatives in all kinds of trouble with the legal
authorities of this country."
"I am glad you mentioned the legal aspects of the case; I had nearly
forgotten them. They are most important. In electing to be crushed
under a vehicle she acts on her own initiative. What you propose is
nothing less than a curtailment of her liberty of action. How do you
think the local authorities would envisage such an arbitrary step? I
imagine it may cost you dear to arrogate to yourselves a power which,
in this country at least, is vested in the proper authorities. You may
well find yourselves in collision with the penal code of Italy which
has been framed, and is now administered, by men of uncommonly wide
views--men who reverence personal freedom above gold and rubies. I
should not be surprised if our magistrate in Nepenthe were to take, on
legal grounds, the same view of the case as I hold on purely moral
ones, namely, that your action towards Miss Wilberforce would amount to
an unwarranted persecution. He would regard it, very likely, as the
unjustifiable incarceration of a perfectly harmless individual. Signor
Malipizzo, I may say, has pronounced views as to his duties towards
society."
This was too much for one of the respectable members of the deputation.
He asked:
"Are you referring to that blackguard, that pestilential hog, who calls
himself a judge?"
"Perhaps you do not know him as well as I do. I wish you knew him
better. I wish you knew him as well as I do! He is worth knowing. Let
me tell you something about him--something new and characteristic. Like
many natives, he is scrupulously fair minded and honest. Now I can get
on, at a pinch, even with an upright man. That is because I always try
to discover the good side of my fellow-creatures. But other people
cannot. Accordingly, being an incorruptible magistrate, he is liable to
encounter hostility among a certain disreputable section of the
populace. His conscientious methods expose him to the accusation of
harsh dealing. This has happened more than once. It happened only two
days ago, when he sentenced to prison a batch of Russian lunatics who
were responsible, among other damage, for the death of three innocent
school-children. I commend his action. He erred, if at all, on the side
of leniency; for we really cannot have a pack of raving wolves at large
here. It is different in Russia. You can go mad there--indeed that
country, with its vast plains and trackless forests, seems to have been
especially created for the purpose of running amok. But this island is
really too small; there are so many glass windows and babies
about--don't you think so, gentlemen?"
"Nepenthe is certainly a small place, Mr. Keith."
"Note, now, how differently he treats Miss Wilberforce, who not only
never killed three school-children but has never, to the best of my
knowledge, injured a living creature. I am informed on good authority
that, after spending a tumultuous night in gaol, she has already
regained her liberty. And this, if I am not mistaken, is the second or
third occasion at least on which our judge has behaved in a similar
manner towards her. Once more I commend his action. Why has Signor
Malipizzo set the lady free? Because, unlike a modern philanthropist,
he is aware of the wider issues involved; he acts not with the severity
of a fanatic, but with the understanding, the tolerance, the mellow
sympathy of a man of the world. I said that everyone on Nepenthe
treated Miss Wilberforce as a pariah. That was a mistake. I ought to
have allowed for one exception--our admirable judge! It strikes me as
significant that an official who is bound to her by no ties of
blood-relationship or nationality and who enjoys, moreover, a
reputation--however undeserved--for harshness, should be the one person
on Nepenthe to stretch a point in her favour; the one person who
extends to her the hand of friendship, whose heart goes out in sympathy
with her sad case. Significant, and not altogether creditable to us,
her compatriots. Now who, I wonder, is the friend of man, the modern
Prometheus; you who incarcerate her, or this alien lawyer who sets her
free? To be perfectly frank, I find your attitude contrasts
unfavourably with his own. You are the rigorists, the harsh ones. He is
the humanitarian. Yes, gentlemen! In my humble opinion there is not a
shadow of a doubt about it. Signor Malipizzo is the true
philanthropist...."
The deputation, wending to the market-place rather hurriedly in order
to take their places in the funeral cortege, said to themselves:
"We ought to have waited."
Thinking it over as they marched along, the respectable members came to
the conclusion that the others, the Hopkins section, were really to
blame for the discomfiture of the expedition. It was they who had
insisted with specious arguments upon an interview at this unseasonable
hour of the morning; as for themselves, they would gladly have waited
for a more suitable occasion. In undertones, low but venomous, they
commented upon the undue haste of Mr. Hopkins and its probable motives.
Later on they understood everything. Then they called him a thief and a
rogue, loudly--but not to his face.
Which shows yet again how inadequately causes and effects are
appreciated here on earth. The dubious Mr. Hopkins may well have been
moved by mercenary considerations. But this fact had nothing to do with
the unsatisfactory issue of the affair. In other words, even as the
Saint, in the matter of that volcanic eruption, had previously gotten
the praise for what was not his merit, so now this sinner was blamed
for what was not his fault. Had the sub-committee waited till the crack
of doom, it would have made no difference whatever to the general trend
of Mr. Keith's sententious irrelevancies.
Perhaps, if they had caught him in a better humour, he might have had
the decency to invite them to luncheon after the funeral.
Even this was problematical.