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.To real literature, real painting, real music, the Morses and their kind,were dead.And bigger than such things was life, of which they were densely, hopelessly ignorant.In spite of their Unitarianproclivities and their masks of conservative broadmindedness, they were two generations behind interpretative science: their mentalprocesses were mediaeval, while their thinking on the ultimate data of existence and of the universe struck him as the samemetaphysical method that was as young as the youngest race, as old as the cave-man, and older--the same that moved the firstPleistocene ape-man to fear the dark; that moved the first hasty Hebrew savage to incarnate Eve from Adam's rib; that movedDescartes to build an idealistic system of the universe out of the projections of his own puny ego; and that moved the famous Britishecclesiastic to denounce evolution in satire so scathing as to win immediate applause and leave his name a notorious scrawl on thepage of history.So Martin thought, and he thought further, till it dawned upon him that the difference between these lawyers, officers, business men,and bank cashiers he had met and the members of the working class he had known was on a par with the difference in the food theyate, clothes they wore, neighborhoods in which they lived.Certainly, in all of them was lacking the something more which he found inhimself and in the books.The Morses had shown him the best their social position could produce, and he was not impressed by it.Apauper himself, a slave to the money-lender, he knew himself the superior of those he met at the Morses'; and, when his one decentsuit of clothes was out of pawn, he moved among them a lord of life, quivering with a sense of outrage akin to what a prince wouldsuffer if condemned to live with goat-herds."You hate and fear the socialists," he remarked to Mr.Morse, one evening at dinner; "but why? You know neither them nor theirdoctrines."The conversation had been swung in that direction by Mrs.Morse, who had been invidiously singing the praises of Mr.Hapgood.Thecashier was Martin's black beast, and his temper was a trifle short where the talker of platitudes was concerned."Yes," he had said, "Charley Hapgood is what they call a rising young man--somebody told me as much.And it is true.He'll makethe Governor's Chair before he dies, and, who knows? maybe the United States Senate.""What makes you think so?" Mrs.Morse had inquired."I've heard him make a campaign speech.It was so cleverly stupid and unoriginal, and also so convincing, that the leaders cannot helpbut regard him as safe and sure, while his platitudes are so much like the platitudes of the average voter that--oh, well, you know youflatter any man by dressing up his own thoughts for him and presenting them to him.""I actually think you are jealous of Mr.Hapgood," Ruth had chimed in."Heaven forbid!"The look of horror on Martin's face stirred Mrs.Morse to belligerence."You surely don't mean to say that Mr.Hapgood is stupid?" she demanded icily.Martin Eden 96/161Martin Eden"No more than the average Republican," was the retort, "or average Democrat, either.They are all stupid when they are not crafty, andvery few of them are crafty.The only wise Republicans are the millionnaires and their conscious henchmen.They know which sidetheir bread is buttered on, and they know why.""I am a Republican," Mr.Morse put in lightly."Pray, how do you classify me?""Oh, you are an unconscious henchman.""Henchman?""Why, yes.You do corporation work.You have no working-class nor criminal practice.You don't depend upon wife-beaters andpickpockets for your income.You get your livelihood from the masters of society, and whoever feeds a man is that man's master.Yes,you are a henchman.You are interested in advancing the interests of the aggregations of capital you serve."Mr.Morse's face was a trifle red."I confess, sir," he said, "that you talk like a scoundrelly socialist."Then it was that Martin made his remark:"You hate and fear the socialists; but why? You know neither them nor their doctrines.""Your doctrine certainly sounds like socialism," Mr.Morse replied, while Ruth gazed anxiously from one to the other, and Mrs.Morsebeamed happily at the opportunity afforded of rousing her liege lord's antagonism."Because I say Republicans are stupid, and hold that liberty, equality, and fraternity are exploded bubbles, does not make me asocialist," Martin said with a smile."Because I question Jefferson and the unscientific Frenchmen who informed his mind, does notmake me a socialist.Believe me, Mr.Morse, you are far nearer socialism than I who am its avowed enemy.""Now you please to be facetious," was all the other could say."Not at all.I speak in all seriousness.You still believe in equality, and yet you do the work of the corporations, and the corporations,from day to day, are busily engaged in burying equality.And you call me a socialist because I deny equality, because I affirm justwhat you live up to.The Republicans are foes to equality, though most of them fight the battle against equality with the very worditself the slogan on their lips.In the name of equality they destroy equality.That was why I called them stupid.As for myself, I am anindividualist.I believe the race is to the swift, the battle to the strong.Such is the lesson I have learned from biology, or at least think Ihave learned.As I said, I am an individualist, and individualism is the hereditary and eternal foe of socialism.""But you frequent socialist meetings," Mr.Morse challenged."Certainly, just as spies frequent hostile camps.How else are you to learn about the enemy? Besides, I enjoy myself at their meetings.They are good fighters, and, right or wrong, they have read the books [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]