Part 43 (2/2)

His neighbor's happiness, or his neighbor's life, stands, let us say, between him and the attainment of something that he wants. He can wreck the happiness, or strike down the life, without, to his knowledge, any fear of suffering for it himself. What is to prevent him, being the man he is, from going straight to his end, on those conditions? Will the skill in rowing, the swiftness in running, the admirable capacity and endurance in other physical exercises, which he has attained, by a strenuous cultivation in this kind that has excluded any similarly strenuous cultivation in other kinds--will these physical attainments help him to win a purely moral victory over his own selfishness and his own cruelty? They won't even help him to see that it _is_ selfishness, and that it _is_ cruelty. The essential principle of his rowing and racing (a harmless principle enough, if you can be sure of applying it to rowing and racing only) has taught him to take every advantage of another man that his superior strength and superior cunning can suggest.

There has been nothing in his training to soften the barbarous hardness in his heart, and to enlighten the barbarous darkness in his mind.

Temptation finds this man defenseless, when temptation pa.s.ses his way.

I don't care who he is, or how high he stands accidentally in the social scale--he is, to all moral intents and purposes, an Animal, and nothing more. If my happiness stands in his way--and if he can do it with impunity to himself--he will trample down my happiness. If my life happens to be the next obstacle he encounters--and if he can do it with impunity to himself--he will trample down my life. Not, Mr. Delamayn, in the character of a victim to irresistible fatality, or to blind chance; but in the character of a man who has sown the seed, and reaps the harvest. That, Sir, is the case which I put as an extreme case only, when this discussion began. As an extreme case only--but as a perfectly possible case, at the same time--I restate it now.”

Before the advocates of the other side of the question could open their lips to reply, Geoffrey suddenly flung off his indifference, and started to his feet.

”Stop!” he cried, threatening the others, in his fierce impatience to answer for himself, with his clenched fist.

There was a general silence.

Geoffrey turned and looked at Sir Patrick, as if Sir Patrick had personally insulted him.

”Who is this anonymous man, who finds his way to his own ends, and pities n.o.body and sticks at nothing?” he asked. ”Give him a name!”

”I am quoting an example,” said Sir Patrick. ”I am not attacking a man.”

”What right have you,” cried Geoffrey--utterly forgetful, in the strange exasperation that had seized on him, of the interest that he had in controlling himself before Sir Patrick--”what right have you to pick out an example of a rowing man who is an infernal scoundrel--when it's quite as likely that a rowing man may be a good fellow: ay! and a better fellow, if you come to that, than ever stood in your shoes!”

”If the one case is quite as likely to occur as the other (which I readily admit),” answered Sir Patrick, ”I have surely a right to choose which case I please for ill.u.s.tration. (Wait, Mr. Delamayn! These are the last words I have to say and I mean to say them.) I have taken the example--not of a specially depraved man, as you erroneously suppose--but of an average man, with his average share of the mean, cruel, and dangerous qualities, which are part and parcel of unreformed human nature--as your religion tells you, and as you may see for yourself, if you choose to look at your untaught fellow-creatures any where. I suppose that man to be tried by a temptation to wickedness, out of the common; and I show, to the best of my ability, how completely the moral and mental neglect of himself, which the present material tone of public feeling in England has tacitly encouraged, leaves him at the mercy of all the worst instincts in his nature; and how surely, under those conditions, he _must_ go down (gentleman as he is) step by step--as the lowest vagabond in the streets goes down under _his_ special temptation--from the beginning in ignorance to the end in crime.

If you deny my right to take such an example as that, in ill.u.s.tration of the views I advocate, you must either deny that a special temptation to wickedness can a.s.sail a man in the position of a gentleman, or you must a.s.sert that gentlemen who are naturally superior to all temptation are the only gentlemen who devote themselves to athletic pursuits. There is my defense. In stating my case, I have spoken out of my own sincere respect for the interests of virtue and of learning; out of my own sincere admiration for those young men among us who are resisting the contagion of barbarism about them. In _their_ future is the future hope of England. I have done.”

Angrily ready with a violent personal reply, Geoffrey found himself checked, in his turn by another person with something to say, and with a resolution to say it at that particular moment.

For some little time past the surgeon had discontinued his steady investigation of Geoffrey's face, and had given all his attention to the discussion, with the air of a man whose self-imposed task had come to an end. As the last sentence fell from the last speaker's lips, he interposed so quickly and so skillfully between Geoffrey and Sir Patrick, that Geoffrey himself was taken by surprise,

”There is something still wanting to make Sir Patrick's statement of the case complete,” he said. ”I think I can supply it, from the result of my own professional experience. Before I say what I have to say, Mr.

Delamayn will perhaps excuse me, if I venture on giving him a caution to control himself.”

”Are _you_ going to make a dead set at me, too?” inquired Geoffrey.

”I am recommending you to keep your temper--nothing more. There are plenty of men who can fly into a pa.s.sion without doing themselves any particular harm. You are not one of them.”

”What do you mean?”

”I don't think the state of your health, Mr. Delamayn, is quite so satisfactory as you may be disposed to consider it yourself.”

Geoffrey turned to his admirers and adherents with a roar of derisive laughter. The admirers and adherents all echoed him together. Arnold and Blanche smiled at each other. Even Sir Patrick looked as if he could hardly credit the evidence of his own ears. There stood the modern Hercules, self-vindicated as a Hercules, before all eyes that looked at him. And there, opposite, stood a man whom he could have killed with one blow of his fist, telling him, in serious earnest, that he was not in perfect health!

”You are a rare fellow!” said Geoffrey, half in jest and half in anger.

”What's the matter with me?”

”I have undertaken to give you, what I believe to be, a necessary caution,” answered the surgeon. ”I have _not_ undertaken to tell you what I think is the matter with you. That may be a question for consideration some little time hence. In the meanwhile, I should like to put my impression about you to the test. Have you any objection to answer a question on a matter of no particular importance relating to yourself?”

”Let's hear the question first.”

”I have noticed something in your behavior while Sir Patrick was speaking. You are as much interested in opposing his views as any of those gentlemen about you. I don't understand your sitting in silence, and leaving it entirely to the others to put the case on your side--until Sir Patrick said something which happened to irritate you.

Had you, all the time before that, no answer ready in your own mind?”

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