a miscellany of men-第5部分

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Nevertheless；　because　human　nature　always　craves　and　half　creates　the　things　necessary　to　its　happiness；　there　are　approximations　and　suggestions　of　the　possibility　of　such　a　race　even　here。　　The　nearest　approach　I　know　to　the　temper　of　a　Peasant　in　England　is　that　of　the　country　gardener；　not；　of　course；　the　great　scientific　gardener　attached　to　the　great　houses；　he　is　a　rich　man's　servant　like　any　other。　　I　mean　the　small　jobbing　gardener　who　works　for　two　or　three　moderate…sized　gardens；　who　works　on　his　own；　who　sometimes　even　owns　his　house；　and　who　frequently　owns　his　tools。　This　kind　of　man　has　really　some　of　the　characteristics　of　the　true　Peasantespecially　the　characteristics　that　people　don't　like。　　He　has　none　of　that　irresponsible　mirth　which　is　the　consolation　of　most　poor　men　in　England。　　The　gardener　is　even　disliked　sometimes　by　the　owners　of　the　shrubs　and　flowers；　because　（like　Micaiah）　he　prophesies　not　good　concerning　them；　but　evil。　The　English　gardener　is　grim；　critical；　self…respecting；　sometimes　even　economical。　　Nor　is　this　（as　the　reader's　lightning　wit　will　flash　back　at　me）　merely　because　the　English　gardener　is　always　a　Scotch　gardener。　　The　type　does　exist　in　pure　South　England　blood　and　speech；　I　have　spoken　to　the　type。　　I　was　speaking　to　the　type　only　the　other　evening；　when　a　rather　odd　little　incident　occurred。

It　was　one　of　those　wonderful　evenings　in　which　the　sky　was　warm　and　radiant　while　the　earth　was　still　comparatively　cold　and　wet。　　But　it　is　of　the　essence　of　Spring　to　be　unexpected；　as　in　that　heroic　and　hackneyed　line　about　coming　〃before　the　swallow　dares。〃　　Spring　never　is　Spring　unless　it　comes　too　soon。　　And　on　a　day　like　that　one　might　pray；　without　any　profanity；　that　Spring　might　come　on　earth　as　it　was　in　heaven。　　The　gardener　was　gardening。　　I　was　not　gardening。　　It　is　needless　to　explain　the　causes　of　this　difference；　it　would　be　to　tell　the　tremendous　history　of　two　souls。　　It　is　needless　because　there　is　a　more　immediate　explanation　of　the　case：　the　gardener　and　I；　if　not　equal　in　agreement；　were　at　least　equal　in　difference。　　It　is　quite　certain　that　he　would　not　have　allowed　me　to　touch　the　garden　if　I　had　gone　down　on　my　knees　to　him。　　And　it　is　by　no　means　certain　that　I　should　have　consented　to　touch　the　garden　if　he　had　gone　down　on　his　knees　to　me。　His　activity　and　my　idleness；　therefore；　went　on　steadily　side　by　side　through　the　long　sunset　hours。

And　all　the　time　I　was　thinking　what　a　shame　it　was　that　he　was　not　sticking　his　spade　into　his　own　garden；　instead　of　mine：　he　knew　about　the　earth　and　the　underworld　of　seeds；　the　resurrection　of　Spring　and　the　flowers　that　appear　in　order　like　a　procession　marshalled　by　a　herald。　He　possessed　the　garden　intellectually　and　spiritually；　while　I　only　possessed　it　politically。　　I　know　more　about　flowers　than　coal…owners　know　about　coal；　for　at　least　I　pay　them　honour　when　they　are　brought　above　the　surface　of　the　earth。　　I　know　more　about　gardens　than　railway　shareholders　seem　to　know　about　railways：　for　at　least　I　know　that　it　needs　a　man　to　make　a　garden；　a　man　whose　name　is　Adam。　　But　as　I　walked　on　that　grass　my　ignorance　overwhelmed　meand　yet　that　phrase　is　false；　because　it　suggests　something　like　a　storm　from　the　sky　above。　　It　is　truer　to　say　that　my　ignorance　exploded　underneath　me；　like　a　mine　dug　long　before；　and　indeed　it　was　dug　before　the　beginning　of　the　ages。　Green　bombs　of　bulbs　and　seeds　were　bursting　underneath　me　everywhere；　and；　so　far　as　my　knowledge　went；　they　had　been　laid　by　a　conspirator。　　I　trod　quite　uneasily　on　this　uprush　of　the　earth；　the　Spring　is　always　only　a　fruitful　earthquake。　　With　the　land　all　alive　under　me　I　began　to　wonder　more　and　more　why　this　man；　who　had　made　the　garden；　did　not　own　the　garden。　　If　I　stuck　a　spade　into　the　ground；　I　should　be　astonished　at　what　I　found　there　。。。and　just　as　I　thought　this　I　saw　that　the　gardener　was　astonished　too。

Just　as　I　was　wondering　why　the　man　who　used　the　spade　did　not　profit　by　the　spade；　he　brought　me　something　he　had　found　actually　in　my　soil。　　It　was　a　thin　worn　gold　piece　of　the　Georges；　of　the　sort　which　are　called；　I　believe；　Spade　Guineas。　　Anyhow；　a　piece　of　gold。

If　you　do　not　see　the　parable　as　I　saw　it　just　then；　I　doubt　if　I　can　explain　it　just　now。　He　could　make　a　hundred　other　round　yellow　fruits：　and　this　flat　yellow　one　is　the　only　sort　that　I　can　make。　　How　it　came　there　I　have　not　a　notionunless　Edmund　Burke　dropped　it　in　his　hurry　to　get　back　to　Butler's　Court。　　But　there　it　was：　this　is　a　cold　recital　of　facts。　　There　may　be　a　whole　pirate's　treasure　lying　under　the　earth　there；　for　all　I　know　or　care；　for　there　is　no　interest　in　a　treasure　without　a　Treasure　Island　to　sail　to。　　If　there　is　a　treasure　it　will　never　be　found；　for　I　am　not　interested　in　wealth　beyond　the　dreams　of　avarice　since　I　know　that　avarice　has　no　dreams；　but　only　insomnia。　　And；　for　the　other　party；　my　gardener　would　never　consent　to　dig　up　the　garden。


Nevertheless；　I　was　overwhelmed　with　intellectual　emotions　when　I　saw　that　answer　to　my　question；　the　question　of　why　the　garden　did　not　belong　to　the　gardener。　　No　better　epigram　could　be　put　in　reply　than　simply　putting　the　Spade　Guinea　beside　the　Spade。　　This　was　the　only　underground　seed　that　I　could　understand。　　Only　by　having　a　little　more　of　that　dull；　battered　yellow　substance　could　I　manage　to　be　idle　while　he　was　active。　I　am　not　altogether　idle　myself；　but　the　fact　remains　that　the　power　is　in　the　thin　slip　of　metal　we　call　the　Spade　Guinea；　not　in　the　strong　square　and　curve　of　metal　which　we　call　the　Spade。　　And　then　I　suddenly　remembered　that　as　I　had　found　gold　on　my　ground　by　accident；　so　richer　men　in　the　north　and　west　counties　had　found　coal　in　their　ground；　also　by　accident。

I　told　the　gardener　that　as　he　had　found　the　thing　he　ought　to　keep　it；　but　that　if　he　cared　to　sell　it　to　me　it　could　be　valued　properly；　and　then　sold。　　He　said　at　first；　with　characteristic　independence；　that　he　would　like　to　keep　it。　　He　said　it　would　make　a　brooch　for　his　wife。　　But　a　little　later　he　brought　it　back　to　me　without　explanation。　　I　could　not　get　a　ray　of　light　on　the　reason　of　his　refusal；　but　he　looked　lowering　and　unhappy。　　Had　he　some　mystical　instinct　that　it　is　just　such　accidental　and　irrational　wealth　that　is　the　doom　of　all　peasantries？　Perhaps　he　dimly　felt　that　the　boy's　pirate　tales　are　true；　and　that　buried　treasure　is　a　thing　for　robbers　and　not　for　producers。　Perhaps　he　thought　there　was　a　curse　on　such　capital：　on　the　coal　of　the　coal…owners；　on　the　gold　of　the　gold…seekers。　　Perhaps　there　is。



THE　VOTER　AND　THE　TWO　VOICES


The　real　evil　of　our　Party　System　is　commonly　stated　wrong。　　It　was　stated　wrong　by　Lord　Rosebery；　when　he　said　that　it　prevented　the　best　men　from　devoting　themselves　to　politics；　and　that　it　encouraged　a　fanatical　conflict。　　I　doubt　whether　the　best　men　ever　would　devote　themselves　to　politics。　　The　best　men　devote　themselves　to　pigs　and　babies　and　things　like　that。　　And　as　for　the　fanatical　conflict　in　party　politics；　I　wish　there　was　more　of　it。　　The　real　danger　of　the　two　parties　with　their　two　policies　is　that　they　unduly　limit　the　outlook　of　the　ordinary　citizen。　　They　make　him　barren　instead　of　creative；　because　he　is　never　allowed　to　do　anything　except　prefer　one　existing　policy　to　another。　　We　have　not　got　real　Democracy　when　the　decision　depends　upon　the　people。　　We　shall　have　real　Democracy　when　the　problem　depends　upon　the　people。　　The　ordinary　man　will　decide　not　only　how　he　will　vote；　but　what　he　is　going　to　vote　about。

It　is　this　which　involves　some　weakness　in　many　current　aspirations　towards　the　extension　of　the　suffrage；　I　mean　that；　apart　from　all　questions　of　abstract　justice；　it　is　not　the　smallness　or　largeness　of　the　suffrage　that　is　at　present　the　difficulty　of　Democracy。　　It　is　not　the　quantity　of　voters；　but　the　quality　of　the　thing　they　are　voting　about。　　A　certain　alternative　is　put　before　them　by　the　powerful　houses　and　the　highest　political　class。　　Two　roads　are　opened　to　them；　but　they　must　go　down　one　or　the　other。　　They　cannot　have　what　they　choose；　but　only　which　they　choose。　　To　follow　the　process　in　practice　we　may　put　it　thus。　　The　Suffragettesif　one　may　judge　by　their　frequent　ringing　of　his　bellwant　to　do　something　to　Mr。　Asquith。　　I　have　no　notion　what　it　is。　　Let　us　say　（for　the　sake　of　argument）　that　they　want　to　paint　him　green。　　We　will　suppose　that　it　is　entirely　for　that　simple　purpose　that　they　are　always　seeking　to　have　private　interviews　with　him；　it　seems　as　profitable　as　any　other　end　that　I　can　imagine　to　such　an　interview。　　Now；　it　is　possible　that　the　Government　of　the　day　might　go　in　for　a　positive　policy　of　painting　Mr。　Asquith　green；　might　give　that　reform　a　prominent　place　in　their　programme。　　Then　the　party　in　opposition　would　adopt　another　policy；　not　a　policy　of　leaving　Mr。　Asquith　alone　（which　would　be　considered　dangerously　revolutionary）；　but　some　alternative　course　of　action；　as；　for　instance；　painting　him　red。　　Then　both　sides　would　fling　themselves　on　the　people；　they　would　both　cry　that　the　appeal　was　now　to　the　Caesar　of　Democracy。　　A　dark　and　dramatic　air　of　conflict　and　real　crisis　would　arise　on　both　sides；　arrows　of　satire　would　fly　and　swords　of　eloquence　flame。　　The　Greens　would　say　that　Socialists　and　free　lovers　might　well　want　to　paint　Mr。　Asquith　red；　they　wanted　to　paint　the　whole　town　red。　Socialists　would　indignantly　reply　that　Socialism　was　the　reverse　of　disorder；　and　that　they　only　wanted　to　paint　Mr。　Asquith　red　so　that　he　might　resemble　the　red　pillar…boxes　which　typified　State　control。　The　Greens　would　passionately　deny　the　charge　so　often　brought　against　them　by　the　Reds；　they　would　deny　that　they　wished　Mr。　Asquith　green　in　order　that　he　might　be　invisible　on　the　green　benches　of　the　Commons；　as　certain　terrified　animals　take　the　colour　of　their　environment。

There　would　be　fights　in　the　street　perhaps；　and　abundance　of　ribbons；　flags；　and　badges；　of　the　two　colours。　　One　crowd　would　sing；　〃Keep　the　Red　Flag　Flying；〃　and　the　other；　〃The　Wearing　of　the　Green。〃　　But　when　the　last　effort　had　been　made　and　the　last　moment　come；　when　two　crowds