the angel and the author-第3章
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looking youth confessed to failure。
〃But how can you be sure it was not a saveloy？〃 the host persisted。
〃Because；〃 explained the boy； 〃I haven't got the stomach…ache。〃
It appeared that saveloys； although a dish of which he was fond；
invariably and immediately disagreed with him。 If only we were all
daemon and nothing else philosophy would be easier。 Unfortunately；
there is more of us。
Another argument much approved by philosophy is that nothing matters；
because a hundred years hence； say； at the outside； we shall be dead。
What we really want is a philosophy that will enable us to get along
while we are still alive。 I am not worrying about my centenary； I am
worrying about next quarter…day。 I feel that if other people would
only go away； and leave meincome…tax collectors； critics； men who
come round about the gas； all those sort of peopleI could be a
philosopher myself。 I am willing enough to make believe that nothing
matters； but they are not。 They say it is going to be cut off； and
talk about judgment summonses。 I tell them it won't trouble any of
us a hundred years hence。 They answer they are not talking of a
hundred years hence； but of this thing that was due last April
twelvemonth。 They won't listen to my daemon。 He does not interest
them。 Nor； to be candid； does it comfort myself very much； this
philosophical reflection that a hundred years later on I'll be sure
to be deadthat is； with ordinary luck。 What bucks me up much more
is the hope that they will be dead。 Besides； in a hundred years
things may have improved。 I may not want to be dead。 If I were sure
of being dead next morning； before their threat of cutting off that
water or that gas could by any possibility be carried out； before
that judgment summons they are bragging about could be made
returnable； I mightI don't say I shouldbe amused； thinking how I
was going to dish them。 The wife of a very wicked man visited him
one evening in prison； and found him enjoying a supper of toasted
cheese。
〃How foolish of you； Edward；〃 argued the fond lady； 〃to be eating
toasted cheese for supper。 You know it always affects your liver。
All day long to…morrow you will be complaining。〃
〃No； I shan't；〃 interrupted Edward； 〃not so foolish as you think me。
They are going to hang me to…morrowearly。〃
There is a passage in Marcus Aurelius that used to puzzle me until I
hit upon the solution。 A foot…note says the meaning is obscure。
Myself； I had gathered this before I read the foot…note。 What it is
all about I defy any human being to explain。 It might mean anything；
it might mean nothing。 The majority of students incline to the
latter theory； though a minority maintain there is a meaning； if only
it could be discovered。 My own conviction is that once in his life
Marcus Aurelius had a real good time。 He came home feeling pleased
with himself without knowing quite why。
〃I will write it down；〃 he said to himself； 〃now； while it is fresh
in my mind。〃
It seemed to him the most wonderful thing that anybody had ever said。
Maybe he shed a tear or two； thinking of all the good he was doing；
and later on went suddenly to sleep。 In the morning he had forgotten
all about it； and by accident it got mixed up with the rest of the
book。 That is the only explanation that seems to me possible； and it
comforts me。
We are none of us philosophers all the time。
Philosophy is the science of suffering the inevitable； which most of
us contrive to accomplish without the aid of philosophy。 Marcus
Aurelius was an Emperor of Rome； and Diogenes was a bachelor living
rent free。 I want the philosophy of the bank clerk married on thirty
shillings a week； of the farm labourer bringing up a family of eight
on a precarious wage of twelve shillings。 The troubles of Marcus
Aurelius were chiefly those of other people。
〃Taxes will have to go up； I am afraid；〃 no doubt he often sighed。
〃But； after all； what are taxes？ A thing in conformity with the
nature of mana little thing that Zeus approves of； one feels sure。
The daemon within me says taxes don't really matter。〃
Maybe the paterfamilias of the period； who did the paying； worried
about new sandals for the children； his wife insisting she hadn't a
frock fit to be seen in at the amphitheatre； that； if there was one
thing in the world she fancied； it was seeing a Christian eaten by a
lion； but now she supposed the children would have to go without her；
found that philosophy came to his aid less readily。
〃Bother these barbarians；〃 Marcus Aurelius may have been tempted； in
an unphilosophical moment； to exclaim； 〃I do wish they would not burn
these poor people's houses over their heads； toss the babies about on
spears； and carry off the older children into slavery。 Why don't
they behave themselves？〃
But philosophy in Marcus Aurelius would eventually triumph over
passing fretfulness。
〃But how foolish of me to be angry with them；〃 he would argue with
himself。 〃One is not vexed with the fig…tree for yielding figs； with
the cucumber for being bitter！ One must expect barbarians to behave
barbariously。〃
Marcus Aurelius would proceed to slaughter the barbarians； and then
forgive them。 We can most of us forgive our brother his
transgressions； having once got even with him。 In a tiny Swiss
village； behind the angle of the school…house wall； I came across a
maiden crying bitterly； her head resting on her arm。 I asked her
what had happened。 Between her sobs she explained that a school
companion； a little lad about her own age； having snatched her hat
from her head； was at that moment playing football with it the other
side of the wall。 I attempted to console her with philosophy。 I
pointed out to her that boys would be boysthat to expect from them
at that age reverence for feminine headgear was to seek what was not
conformable with the nature of boy。 But she appeared to have no
philosophy in her。 She said he was a horrid boy； and that she hated
him。 It transpired it was a hat she rather fancied herself in。 He
peeped round the corner while we were talking； the hat in his hand。
He held it out to her； but she took no notice of him。 I gathered the
incident was closed； and went my way； but turned a few steps further
on； curious to witness the end。 Step by step he approached nearer；
looking a little ashamed of himself； but still she wept； her face
hidden in her arm。
He was not expecting it： to all seeming she stood there the
personification of the grief that is not to be comforted； oblivious
to all surroundings。 Incautiously he took another step。 In an
instant she had 〃landed〃 him over the head with a long narrow wooden
box containing； one supposes； pencils and pens。 He must have been a
hard…headed youngster； the sound of the compact echoed through the
valley。 I met her again on my way back。
〃Hat much damaged？〃 I inquired。
〃Oh； no；〃 she answered； smiling； 〃besides； it was only an old hat。
I've got a better one for Sundays。〃
I often feel philosophical myself； generally over a good cigar after
a satisfactory dinner。 At such times I open my Marcus Aurelius； my
pocket Epicurus； my translation of Plato's 〃Republic。〃 At such times
I agree with them。 Man troubles himself too much about the
unessential。 Let us cultivate serenity。 Nothing can happen to us
that we have not been constituted by Nature to sustain。 That foolish
farm labourer； on his precarious wage of twelve shillings a week：
let him dwell rather on the mercies he enjoys。 Is he not spared all
anxiety concerning safe investment of capital yielding four per
cent。？ Is not the sunrise and the sunset for him also？ Many of us
never see the sunrise。 So many of our so…termed poorer brethen are
privileged rarely to miss that early morning festival。 Let the
daemon within them rejoice。 Why should he fret when the children cry
for bread？ Is it not in the nature of things that the children of
the poor should cry for bread？ The gods in their wisdom have
arranged it thus。 Let the daemon within him reflect upon the
advantag
