Part 33 (1/2)
The question was addressed to me, and I answered: ”I am beginning to think it was selfishness that brought me here, and I am not sure that it is not selfishness which keeps me here. At the same time I have no wish to leave, and the question arises, Is it only the disagreeable which is right? Is selfishness never excusable?”
”In other words,” remarked the Cynic, whose eyes were closed, ”is not vice, after all, and at any rate sometimes, a modified form of virtue?”
”Listen to him!” exclaimed the vicar's wife; ”the embodiment of selfishness is about to proclaim himself the apostle of morality. The unfettered lord of creation will expound to a slave of circ.u.mstance the ethical order of the universe, for the instruction of her mind and the good of her soul.”
”The fact is,” continued the Cynic, without heeding the interruption, ”Miss Holden, like many other sensitive people of both s.e.xes, has a faulty conception of what selfishness is. There are many people who imagine that it is sinful to be happy, and a sign of grace to be miserable, which is about as sensible as to believe that it is an indication of good health when you are irritable and out of sorts. To be selfish is to be careless of the interests of others, and Miss Holden is certainly not that.”
”It is good of you to say so,” I said, ”but I sometimes wonder if I am not s.h.i.+rking duty and evading responsibility by enjoying myself here.”
The squire gave my hand an affectionate squeeze, but only his eyes spoke; and the vicar's wife turned to me.
”What brought you up here, dear? I don't think I ever knew.”
”I am sure I don't,” I replied, and before I had time to continue the Cynic leaned forward and looked at me.
”I know,” he said.
”You once promised to explain me to myself,” I said, smiling, ”Is this the day and the hour?”
”That is for you to say,” he replied. ”You may object to a.n.a.lysis in public. True, there are some advantages from your point of view. You will have one of your own s.e.x to hold a brief for you, and a very partial judge to guarantee fair play.”
”I do not mind,” I replied; and the squire smiled contentedly.
The Cynic threw his cigarette into the fire and began: ”As I understand the case, before you left London your duties kept your hands busily employed during working hours, but allowed you ample opportunity for the consideration of those social problems in which for the previous year or two you had been deeply interested, and a certain portion of your leisure was devoted to social and philanthropic work?”
I a.s.sented with a nod.
”Very well. Yielding to what appeared to be a sudden impulse, but to what was in reality the well-considered action of your subconscious self, you bound your burden of cares upon your back and fled from your City of Destruction.”
”Like a coward,” I interposed, ”afraid to play the game of life because of its hazards. I might have remained and faced the problems and helped to fight the foe I loathed.”
”I will come to that shortly,” he said, and every trace of irony had left his voice; ”at present I am considering why your subconscious self decided upon this line of action. The world's sorrows were oppressing you like a nightmare. Do you know that few of us can meet sorrow face to face and day by day and retain our strength, and particularly if we seek to meet it unprepared, unschooled? One of two things usually happens: we become hardened, or we go mad. From these alternatives it is sometimes wise to flee, and then flight is not cowardice, but prudence.”
”I certainly obeyed my Inner Self,” I said, ”but is there not such a thing as a false conscience?”
”Your 'Inner Self' did not betray you,” he continued. ”Unwittingly you sought, not oblivion, but enlightenment and preparation. All earnest reformers are driven of the Spirit into the wilderness.”
”Yes, but for what purpose, Derwent?” interposed the squire; ”to be tempted of the devil?”
”To face the tempter, sir. To test their own armour in private conflict before they go forth to strike down the public foe. To discover the devil's strength, his powers and his limitations, before they match themselves against legions. To discover their own strength and limitations, too. The first essential in successful warfare is to know yourself and your enemy, and you gain that knowledge in solitude.
It was so with Jesus, with Paul, with Savonarola, with scores of other reformers. Miss Holden was driven into the wilderness--if you care to put it so--for a similar purpose.”
”But ought one to avoid opportunities of usefulness?” I urged. ”I was in the fray and I withdrew from it.”
”A raw soldier, invalided home, though you did not know it,” he continued, ”and sent into the country for rest and renewal, and quiet preparation for effective service. Here you have gained your perspective. You survey the field of battle from the heights, and yet you have come in contact with the enemy at close quarters, too, and you know his tactics. You will face the problems of sin and suffering and social injustice again, but with new heart and less of despair.”
”You are too generous, I fear. I should like to think that my motives were so pure, but----”
”What is motive? Motive is what excites to action. Your motive was not less pure because it was intuitive and unrecognised. But let me ask you: What idea are you disposed to think you left unaccomplished?
What object ought you to have pursued?”