“Don't start a discussion of politics now, I beg you, Dave Spear,” she said.
“My quarrel with Spear,” interjected Philip in a low voice, “is not confined to politics.”
“What is it confined to?” cried Persephone sharply. “Don't you begin teasing my Dave,” she went on, and as she spoke, she stretched out a long, delicious, young girl's arm across the table and taking Philip's hand in her own gave it a little playful scolding shake.
Philip caught her fingers and held them gravely, while he looked intently into her eyes. John saw the communist's rather rustic countenance wince sharply while this magnetic vibration passed between the cousins.
“What puzzles me about all your theories, Mr. Spear,” began John, speaking rather rapidly, “is that they contradict the deepest instinct in human nature. To possess—doesn't the whole world, for every one of us, turn upon this great pivot? Our philosophy, for instance, what is it but the act by which we possess the Cosmos? Our love? That surely is the quintessence of possession. And isn't this asceticism which you people practice, this giving up of everything except the 'bare essentials' as you call 'em, isn't it a sort of wet blanket thrown upon human nature, a sort of moral rebuke to the natural pleasures?”
“I think you will agree, Mr. Crow------” began Spear excitedly, but his wife broke in. “Let me put it to him, Dave!” she cried. “The point is this, Mr. Crow. We fully agree with you about the importance of a free fling of our whole nature towards happiness. But it's just this that the capitalistic system interferes with! You are confusing two things. You are confusing natural, instinctive happiness and the artificial social pride that we get from private property. Under a just and scientific arrangement of society such as they have achieved in Russia, our human values begin to change. People feel ashamed of having money. It becomes a disgrace, like the reputation of a thief, to have more than the essentials. But everyone has a right to the pleasures that bring happiness. Everyone has a right to------”
“She means,” interrupted her husband, raising his voice to a very vigorous pitch, “she means, Mr. Crow, that everyone who works honestly and doesn't live by exploiting others can have enough to enjoy their life on. The exploiting classes, of course,” here he nearly shouted, causing Tilly to give a quick glance at the door, afraid lest the servants should hear him, “must be starved out!”
The contrast was so great between, the rosy face of this fair-haired youth and the fanaticism of his tone that John stared at him in astonishment. Into the darkening twilight, past all those dim faces sitting round the table, the fierce words “must he starved out” twanged like a bow-string.
Philip Crow from the end of the table cast upon the young revolutionary very much the sort of glance that some Devereux of the Norman Conquest would have cast upon some Saxon Gurth who had dared to challenge him as his horse broke through the brushwood with a raised quarterstaff. “You could starve me out, my son, if you won over the army and the air-force, but I assure you you'll have one bloated capitalist you'll never starve out.”
“Philip means our friend Mr. Geard, I suppose,” murmured Aunt Elizabeth.
“I mean Nature!”
Persephone gave vent to a rather uncivil whistle. “Nature?” she mo'cked. “What are you talking about, Philip?”
“Don't you see, my good child,” he said quite gently, “that it's always been by the brains and the energy of exceptional individuals, fighting for their own hands, that the world has moved on? What you people are doing now is simply sharing out what has already been won. We have the future to think of; or, as I say, Nature has the future to think of.”
The blood rushed to the face of Dave Spear and a misty film gathered in front of his eyes, so that what he saw of the room and the people in the room
“My quarrel with Spear,” interjected Philip in a low voice, “is not confined to politics.”
“What is it confined to?” cried Persephone sharply. “Don't you begin teasing my Dave,” she went on, and as she spoke, she stretched out a long, delicious, young girl's arm across the table and taking Philip's hand in her own gave it a little playful scolding shake.
Philip caught her fingers and held them gravely, while he looked intently into her eyes. John saw the communist's rather rustic countenance wince sharply while this magnetic vibration passed between the cousins.
“What puzzles me about all your theories, Mr. Spear,” began John, speaking rather rapidly, “is that they contradict the deepest instinct in human nature. To possess—doesn't the whole world, for every one of us, turn upon this great pivot? Our philosophy, for instance, what is it but the act by which we possess the Cosmos? Our love? That surely is the quintessence of possession. And isn't this asceticism which you people practice, this giving up of everything except the 'bare essentials' as you call 'em, isn't it a sort of wet blanket thrown upon human nature, a sort of moral rebuke to the natural pleasures?”
“I think you will agree, Mr. Crow------” began Spear excitedly, but his wife broke in. “Let me put it to him, Dave!” she cried. “The point is this, Mr. Crow. We fully agree with you about the importance of a free fling of our whole nature towards happiness. But it's just this that the capitalistic system interferes with! You are confusing two things. You are confusing natural, instinctive happiness and the artificial social pride that we get from private property. Under a just and scientific arrangement of society such as they have achieved in Russia, our human values begin to change. People feel ashamed of having money. It becomes a disgrace, like the reputation of a thief, to have more than the essentials. But everyone has a right to the pleasures that bring happiness. Everyone has a right to------”
“She means,” interrupted her husband, raising his voice to a very vigorous pitch, “she means, Mr. Crow, that everyone who works honestly and doesn't live by exploiting others can have enough to enjoy their life on. The exploiting classes, of course,” here he nearly shouted, causing Tilly to give a quick glance at the door, afraid lest the servants should hear him, “must be starved out!”
The contrast was so great between, the rosy face of this fair-haired youth and the fanaticism of his tone that John stared at him in astonishment. Into the darkening twilight, past all those dim faces sitting round the table, the fierce words “must he starved out” twanged like a bow-string.
Philip Crow from the end of the table cast upon the young revolutionary very much the sort of glance that some Devereux of the Norman Conquest would have cast upon some Saxon Gurth who had dared to challenge him as his horse broke through the brushwood with a raised quarterstaff. “You could starve me out, my son, if you won over the army and the air-force, but I assure you you'll have one bloated capitalist you'll never starve out.”
“Philip means our friend Mr. Geard, I suppose,” murmured Aunt Elizabeth.
“I mean Nature!”
Persephone gave vent to a rather uncivil whistle. “Nature?” she mo'cked. “What are you talking about, Philip?”
“Don't you see, my good child,” he said quite gently, “that it's always been by the brains and the energy of exceptional individuals, fighting for their own hands, that the world has moved on? What you people are doing now is simply sharing out what has already been won. We have the future to think of; or, as I say, Nature has the future to think of.”
The blood rushed to the face of Dave Spear and a misty film gathered in front of his eyes, so that what he saw of the room and the people in the room
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