South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) - Norman Douglas (ebook e reader .TXT) 📗

His

Good Friend Keith; That They Might Spoil All Their Chances By

Approaching The Latter At Such An Unseasonable Hour Of The Day. It Was

Weak Of Them.

 

They Ought To Have Waited. For Keith Was Fond Of Solitude At All Times,

And Any One Of His Dozen Gardeners Could Have Told Them That,  Like

Every Other Self-Respecting Scholar,  He Was In The Habit Of

Breakfasting Not Earlier Than 9.30,  And Dangerous To Approach Before

That Meal. Or They Might Have Made Enquiries Concerning His Mode Of

Life Among His Fellow-Countrymen On Nepenthe. The Bibliographer,  For

Instance,  Would Have Informed Them That Keith Was "Generally Sick About

Eleven"--Meaning,  By This Playful Nonsense,  To Insinuate That It Was Not

Safe To Disturb Him Till After That Hour. Be That As It May,  He Was

Certainly Irritable Before Breakfast-Time On Every Single Day Of The

Year And,  As It Happened,  Irritable Beyond The Common Measure On This

Particular Morning,  Because The Downpour Of The Previous Afternoon Had

Dashed To Pieces--Among Other Material Damage--The Tender Blooms Of

Certain Priceless Ipomaeas. That Alone Was Enough To Infuriate An

Archangel. Moreover,  Like Everybody Else--He Always Conformed To

Custom--He Had Been Slightly Tipsy Overnight. This Had The Singular

Effect Of Making Him Glum,  Ceremonious,  And Ready To Take Offence.

 

Here,  Now Was This Pack Of Officious Idiots Blundering In Upon Him.

Under Ordinary Circumstances He Would Have Tried To Be Polite. As It

Was,  He Could Hardly Bring Himself To Give Them A Civil Word Of

Welcome. They Caught Him On His Way From The Bath To The Garden--To A

Succulent Breakfast Under His Favourite Pine-Tree Within View Of The

Tyrrhenian; And His Own Flowered Silk Dressing-Gown And

Gold-Embroidered Turkish Slippers Contrasted Oddly With The Solemn

Vestments,  Savouring Of Naphthaline,  Which They Had Donned For The

Funeral. After The Barest Of Apologies For A Costume Which,  He Ventured

To Think,  Was As Suitable As Any Other For A Gentleman At That Hour Of

The Morning,  He Bade Them Be Seated And Listened To What The Speaker

Had To Say--Blinking Ominously The While Through His Spectacles,  Like An

Owl With The Sun In Its Eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 26

 

 

 

 

 

 

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