diff options
Diffstat (limited to '33085-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 33085-8.txt | 2857 |
1 files changed, 2857 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/33085-8.txt b/33085-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbc2fc4 --- /dev/null +++ b/33085-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2857 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Admirable Bashville, by Bernard Shaw + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Admirable Bashville + or, Constancy Unrewarded + +Author: Bernard Shaw + +Release Date: July 5, 2010 [EBook #33085] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADMIRABLE BASHVILLE *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif, Fox in the Stars and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + THE ADMIRABLE + BASHVILLE + + OR, CONSTANCY UNREWARDED + + BEING THE NOVEL OF CASHEL BYRON'S + PROFESSION DONE INTO A STAGE PLAY + IN THREE ACTS, AND IN BLANK VERSE, + WITH A NOTE ON MODERN PRIZE FIGHTING + + By + + BERNARD SHAW + + [Illustration] + + NEW YORK + BRENTANO'S + 1913 + + Price 40 cents net + + + + + WORKS OF BERNARD SHAW + + Dramatic Opinions and Essays. 2 vols. _Net_, $2.50 + Plays Pleasant and Unpleasant. 2 vols. _Net_, $2.50 + John Bull's Other Island and Major Barbara. _Net_, $1.50 + Man and Superman _Net_, $1.25 + Three Plays for Puritans _Net_, $1.25 + The Doctor's Dilemma, Getting Married, and + The Shewing-Up of Blanco Posnet. _Net_, $1.50 + The Quintessence of Ibsenism $1.00 + Cashel Byron's Profession $1.25 + An Unsocial Socialist $1.25 + The Irrational Knot $1.50 + The Author's Apology _Net_, .60 + The Perfect Wagnerite $1.25 + Love Among the Artists $1.50 + The Admirable Bashville: A Play _Net_, .50 + + _Postage or Express, Extra_ + + * * * * * + + BRENTANO'S + + Fifth Avenue and 27th Street New York + + + + +THE ADMIRABLE BASHVILLE + + "Over Bashville the footman I howled with derision and delight. I + dote on Bashville: I could read of him for ever: _de Bashville je + suis le fervent_: there is only one Bashville; and I am his devoted + slave: Bashville est magnifique; mais il n'est gučre possible." + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + + THE ADMIRABLE BASHVILLE + OR, CONSTANCY UNREWARDED + BEING THE NOVEL OF CASHEL + BYRON'S PROFESSION DONE INTO A + STAGE PLAY IN THREE ACTS AND + IN BLANK VERSE · WITH A NOTE + ON MODERN PRIZEFIGHTING · BY + BERNARD SHAW + + [Illustration] + + + BRENTANO'S · NEW YORK + MCMXIII + + + + +This play has been publicly performed within the United Kingdom. It is +entered at Stationers' Hall and The Library of Congress, U. S. A. + +_Copyright, 1901, by Herbert S. Stone and Company_ + +_Copyright, 1907, by Bernard Shaw_ + +All rights reserved + + + + +PREFACE + + +The Admirable Bashville is a product of the British law of copyright. As +that law stands at present, the first person who patches up a stage +version of a novel, however worthless and absurd that version may be, +and has it read by himself and a few confederates to another confederate +who has paid for admission in a hall licensed for theatrical +performances, secures the stage rights of that novel, even as against +the author himself; and the author must buy him out before he can touch +his own work for the purposes of the stage. + +A famous case in point is the drama of East Lynne, adapted from the late +Mrs. Henry Wood's novel of that name. It was enormously popular, and is +still the surest refuge of touring companies in distress. Many authors +feel that Mrs. Henry Wood was hardly used in not getting any of the +money which was plentifully made in this way through her story. To my +mind, since her literary copyright probably brought her a fair wage for +the work of writing the book, her real grievance was, first, that her +name and credit were attached to a play with which she had nothing to +do, and which may quite possibly have been to her a detestable travesty +and profanation of her story; and second, that the authors of that play +had the legal power to prevent her from having any version of her own +performed, if she had wished to make one. + +There is only one way in which the author can protect himself; and that +is by making a version of his own and going through the same legal +farce with it. But the legal farce involves the hire of a hall and the +payment of a fee of two guineas to the King's Reader of Plays. When I +wrote Cashel Byron's Profession I had no guineas to spare, a common +disability of young authors. What is equally common, I did not know the +law. A reasonable man may guess a reasonable law, but no man can guess a +foolish anomaly. Fortunately, by the time my book so suddenly revived in +America I was aware of the danger, and in a position to protect myself +by writing and performing The Admirable Bashville. The prudence of doing +so was soon demonstrated; for rumors soon reached me of several American +stage versions; and one of these has actually been played in New York, +with the boxing scenes under the management (so it is stated) of the +eminent pugilist Mr. James J. Corbett. The New York press, in a somewhat +derisive vein, conveyed the impression that in this version Cashel Byron +sought to interest the public rather as the last of the noble race of +the Byrons of Dorsetshire than as his unromantic self; but in justice to +a play which I never read, and an actor whom I never saw, and who +honorably offered to treat me as if I had legal rights in the matter, I +must not accept the newspaper evidence as conclusive. + +As I write these words, I am promised by the King in his speech to +Parliament a new Copyright Bill. I believe it embodies, in our British +fashion, the recommendations of the book publishers as to the concerns +of the authors, and the notions of the musical publishers as to the +concerns of the playwrights. As author and playwright I am duly obliged +to the Commission for saving me the trouble of speaking for myself, and +to the witnesses for speaking for me. But unless Parliament takes the +opportunity of giving the authors of all printed works of fiction, +whether dramatic or narrative, both playwright and copyright (as in +America), such to be independent of any insertions or omissions of +formulas about "all rights reserved" or the like, I am afraid the new +Copyright Bill will leave me with exactly the opinion both of the +copyright law and the wisdom of Parliament I at present entertain. As a +good Socialist I do not at all object to the limitation of my right of +property in my own works to a comparatively brief period, followed by +complete Communism: in fact, I cannot see why the same salutary +limitation should not be applied to all property rights whatsoever; but +a system which enables any alert sharper to acquire property rights in +my stories as against myself and the rest of the community would, it +seems to me, justify a rebellion if authors were numerous and warlike +enough to make one. + +It may be asked why I have written The Admirable Bashville in blank +verse. My answer is that I had but a week to write it in. Blank verse is +so childishly easy and expeditious (hence, by the way, Shakespear's +copious output), that by adopting it I was enabled to do within the week +what would have cost me a month in prose. + +Besides, I am fond of blank verse. Not nineteenth century blank verse, +of course, nor indeed, with a very few exceptions, any post-Shakespearean +blank verse. Nay, not Shakespearean blank verse itself later than the +histories. When an author can write the prose dialogue of the first +scene in As You Like It, or Hamlet's colloquies with Rosencrantz and +Guildenstern, there is really no excuse for The Seven Ages and "To be or +not to be," except the excuse of a haste that made great facility +indispensable. I am quite sure that any one who is to recover the charm +of blank verse must frankly go back to its beginnings and start a +literary pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. I like the melodious sing-song, the +clear simple one-line and two-line sayings, and the occasional rhymed +tags, like the half closes in an eighteenth century symphony, in Peele, +Kyd, Greene, and the histories of Shakespear. How any one with music in +him can turn from Henry VI., John, and the two Richards to such a mess +of verse half developed into rhetorical prose as Cymbeline, is to me +explicable only by the uncivil hypothesis that the artistic qualities in +the Elizabethan drama do not exist for most of its critics; so that they +hang on to its purely prosaic content, and hypnotize themselves into +absurd exaggerations of the value of that content. Even poets fall under +the spell. Ben Jonson described Marlowe's line as "mighty"! As well put +Michael Angelo's epitaph on the tombstone of Paolo Uccello. No wonder +Jonson's blank verse is the most horribly disagreeable product in +literature, and indicates his most prosaic mood as surely as his shorter +rhymed measures indicate his poetic mood. Marlowe never wrote a mighty +line in his life: Cowper's single phrase, "Toll for the brave," drowns +all his mightinesses as Great Tom drowns a military band. But Marlowe +took that very pleasant-sounding rigmarole of Peele and Greene, and +added to its sunny daylight the insane splendors of night, and the cheap +tragedy of crime. Because he had only a common sort of brain, he was +hopelessly beaten by Shakespear; but he had a fine ear and a soaring +spirit: in short, one does not forget "wanton Arethusa's azure arms" +and the like. But the pleasant-sounding rigmarole was the basis of the +whole thing; and as long as that rigmarole was practised frankly for the +sake of its pleasantness, it was readable and speakable. It lasted until +Shakespear did to it what Raphael did to Italian painting; that is, +overcharged and burst it by making it the vehicle of a new order of +thought, involving a mass of intellectual ferment and psychological +research. The rigmarole could not stand the strain; and Shakespear's +style ended in a chaos of half-shattered old forms, half-emancipated new +ones, with occasional bursts of prose eloquence on the one hand, +occasional delicious echoes of the rigmarole, mostly from Calibans and +masque personages, on the other, with, alas! a great deal of filling up +with formulary blank verse which had no purpose except to save the +author's time and thought. + +When a great man destroys an art form in this way, its ruins make +palaces for the clever would-be great. After Michael Angelo and Raphael, +Giulio Romano and the Carracci. After Marlowe and Shakespear, Chapman +and the Police News poet Webster. Webster's specialty was blood: +Chapman's, balderdash. Many of us by this time find it difficult to +believe that pre-Ruskinite art criticism used to prostrate itself before +the works of Domenichino and Guido, and to patronize the modest little +beginnings of those who came between Cimabue and Masaccio. But we have +only to look at our own current criticism of Elizabethan drama to +satisfy ourselves that in an art which has not yet found its Ruskin or +its pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, the same folly is still academically +propagated. It is possible, and even usual, for men professing to have +ears and a sense of poetry to snub Peele and Greene and grovel before +Fletcher and Webster--Fletcher! a facile blank verse penny-a-liner: +Webster! a turgid paper cut-throat. The subject is one which I really +cannot pursue without intemperance of language. The man who thinks The +Duchess of Malfi better than David and Bethsabe is outside the pale, not +merely of literature, but almost of humanity. + +Yet some of the worst of these post-Shakespearean duffers, from Jonson +to Heywood, suddenly became poets when they turned from the big drum of +pseudo-Shakespearean drama to the pipe and tabor of the masque, exactly +as Shakespear himself recovered the old charm of the rigmarole when he +turned from Prospero to Ariel and Caliban. Cyril Tourneur and Heywood +could certainly have produced very pretty rigmarole plays if they had +begun where Shakespear began, instead of trying to begin where he left +off. Jonson and Beaumont would very likely have done themselves credit +on the same terms: Marston would have had at least a chance. Massinger +was in his right place, such as it was; and one would not disturb the +gentle Ford, who was never born to storm the footlights. Webster could +have done no good anyhow or anywhere: the man was a fool. And Chapman +would always have been a blathering unreadable pedant, like Landor, in +spite of his classical amateurship and respectable strenuosity of +character. But with these exceptions it may plausibly be held that if +Marlowe and Shakespear could have been kept out of their way, the rest +would have done well enough on the lines of Peele and Greene. However, +they thought otherwise; and now that their freethinking paganism, so +dazzling to the pupils of Paley and the converts of Wesley, offers +itself in vain to the disciples of Darwin and Nietzsche, there is an +end of them. And a good riddance, too. + +Accordingly, I have poetasted The Admirable Bashville in the rigmarole +style. And lest the Webster worshippers should declare that there is not +a single correct line in all my three acts, I have stolen or paraphrased +a few from Marlowe and Shakespear (not to mention Henry Carey); so that +if any man dares quote me derisively, he shall do so in peril of +inadvertently lighting on a purple patch from Hamlet or Faustus. + +I have also endeavored in this little play to prove that I am not the +heartless creature some of my critics take me for. I have strictly +observed the established laws of stage popularity and probability. I +have simplified the character of the heroine, and summed up her +sweetness in the one sacred word: Love. I have given consistency to the +heroism of Cashel. I have paid to Morality, in the final scene, the +tribute of poetic justice. I have restored to Patriotism its usual place +on the stage, and gracefully acknowledged The Throne as the fountain of +social honor. I have paid particular attention to the construction of +the play, which will be found equal in this respect to the best +contemporary models. + +And I trust the result will be found satisfactory. + + + + The Admirable Bashville; or, Constancy Unrewarded + + ACT I + + _A glade in Wiltstoken Park_ + + + _Enter_ LYDIA + + LYDIA. Ye leafy breasts and warm protecting wings + Of mother trees that hatch our tender souls, + And from the well of Nature in our hearts + Thaw the intolerable inch of ice + That bears the weight of all the stamping world. + Hear ye me sing to solitude that I, + Lydia Carew, the owner of these lands, + Albeit most rich, most learned, and most wise, + Am yet most lonely. What are riches worth + When wisdom with them comes to show the purse bearer + That life remains unpurchasable? Learning + Learns but one lesson: doubt! To excel all + Is, to be lonely. Oh, ye busy birds, + Engrossed with real needs, ye shameless trees + With arms outspread in welcome of the sun, + Your minds, bent singly to enlarge your lives, + Have given you wings and raised your delicate heads + High heavens above us crawlers. + + [_A rook sets up a great cawing; and the other birds + chatter loudly as a gust of wind sets the branches + swaying. She makes as though she would shew them + her sleeves._ + + Lo, the leaves + That hide my drooping boughs! Mock me--poor maid!-- + Deride with joyous comfortable chatter + These stolen feathers. Laugh at me, the clothed one. + Laugh at the mind fed on foul air and books. + Books! Art! And Culture! Oh, I shall go mad. + Give me a mate that never heard of these, + A sylvan god, tree born in heart and sap; + Or else, eternal maidhood be my hap. + + [_Another gust of wind and bird-chatter. She sits on + the mossy root of an oak and buries her face in her + hands._ CASHEL BYRON, _in a white singlet and + breeches, comes through the trees_. + + CASHEL. What's this? Whom have we here? A woman! + + LYDIA [_looking up_]. Yes. + + CASHEL. You have no business here. I have. Away! + Women distract me. Hence! + + LYDIA. Bid you me hence? + I am upon mine own ground. Who are you? + I take you for a god, a sylvan god. + This place is mine: I share it with the birds, + The trees, the sylvan gods, the lovely company + Of haunted solitudes. + + CASHEL. A sylvan god! + A goat-eared image! Do your statues speak? + Walk? heave the chest with breath? or like a feather + Lift you--like this? [_He sets her on her feet._ + + LYDIA [_panting_]. You take away my breath! + You're strong. Your hands off, please. Thank you. Farewell. + + CASHEL. Before you go: when shall we meet again? + + LYDIA. Why should we meet again? + + CASHEL. Who knows? We _shall_. + That much I know by instinct. What's your name? + + LYDIA. Lydia Carew. + + CASHEL. Lydia's a pretty name. + Where do you live? + + LYDIA. I' the castle. + + CASHEL [_thunderstruck_]. Do not say + You are the lady of this great domain. + + LYDIA. I am. + + CASHEL. Accursed luck! I took you for + The daughter of some farmer. Well, your pardon. + I came too close: I looked too deep. Farewell. + + LYDIA. I pardon that. Now tell me who you are. + + CASHEL. Ask me not whence I come, nor what I am. + You are the lady of the castle. I + Have but this hard and blackened hand to live by. + + LYDIA. I have felt its strength and envied you. Your name? + I have told you mine. + + CASHEL. My name is Cashel Byron. + + LYDIA. I never heard the name; and yet you utter it + As men announce a celebrated name. + Forgive my ignorance. + + CASHEL. I bless it, Lydia. + I have forgot your other name. + + LYDIA. Carew. + Cashel's a pretty name, too. + + MELLISH [_calling through the wood_]. Coo-ee! Byron! + + CASHEL. A thousand curses! Oh, I beg you, go. + This is a man you must not meet. + + MELLISH [_further off_]. Coo-ee! + + LYDIA. He's losing us. What does he in my woods? + + CASHEL. He is a part of what I am. What that is + You must not know. It would end all between us. + And yet there's no dishonor in't: your lawyer, + Who let your lodge to me, will vouch me honest. + I am ashamed to tell you what I am-- + At least, as yet. Some day, perhaps. + + MELLISH [_nearer_]. Coo-ee! + + LYDIA. His voice is nearer. Fare you well, my tenant. + When next your rent falls due, come to the castle. + Pay me in person. Sir: your most obedient. [_She curtsies and goes._ + + CASHEL. Lives in this castle! Owns this park! A lady + Marry a prizefighter! Impossible. + And yet the prizefighter must marry her. + + _Enter_ MELLISH + + Ensanguined swine, whelped by a doggish dam, + Is this thy park, that thou, with voice obscene, + Fillst it with yodeled yells, and screamst my name + For all the world to know that Cashel Byron + Is training here for combat. + + MELLISH. Swine you me? + I've caught you, have I? You have found a woman. + Let her shew here again, I'll set the dog on her. + I will. I say it. And my name's Bob Mellish. + + CASHEL. Change thy initial and be truly hight + Hellish. As for thy dog, why dost thou keep one + And bark thyself? Begone. + + MELLISH. I'll not begone. + You shall come back with me and do your duty-- + Your duty to your backers, do you hear? + You have not punched the bag this blessed day. + + CASHEL. The putrid bag engirdled by thy belt + Invites my fist. + + MELLISH [_weeping_]. Ingrate! O wretched lot! + Who would a trainer be? O Mellish, Mellish, + Trainer of heroes, builder-up of brawn, + Vicarious victor, thou createst champions + That quickly turn thy tyrants. But beware: + Without me thou art nothing. Disobey me, + And all thy boasted strength shall fall from thee. + With flaccid muscles and with failing breath + Facing the fist of thy more faithful foe, + I'll see thee on the grass cursing the day + Thou didst forswear thy training. + + CASHEL. Noisome quack + That canst not from thine own abhorrent visage + Take one carbuncle, thou contaminat'st + Even with thy presence my untainted blood + Preach abstinence to rascals like thyself + Rotten with surfeiting. Leave me in peace. + This grove is sacred: thou profanest it. + Hence! I have business that concerns thee not. + + MELLISH. Ay, with your woman. You will lose your fight. + Have you forgot your duty to your backers? + Oh, what a sacred thing your duty is! + What makes a man but duty? Where were we + Without our duty? Think of Nelson's words: + England expects that every man---- + + CASHEL. Shall twaddle + About his duty. Mellish: at no hour + Can I regard thee wholly without loathing; + But when thou play'st the moralist, by Heaven, + My soul flies to my fist, my fist to thee; + And never did the Cyclops' hammer fall + On Mars's armor--but enough of that. + It does remind me of my mother. + + MELLISH. Ah, + Byron, let it remind thee. Once I heard + An old song: it ran thus. [_He clears his throat._] Ahem, Ahem! + + [_Sings_]--They say there is no other + Can take the place of mother-- + + I am out o' voice: forgive me; but remember: + Thy mother--were that sainted woman here-- + Would say, Obey thy trainer. + + CASHEL. Now, by Heaven, + Some fate is pushing thee upon thy doom. + Canst thou not hear thy sands as they run out? + They thunder like an avalanche. Old man: + Two things I hate, my duty and my mother. + Why dost thou urge them both upon me now? + Presume not on thine age and on thy nastiness. + Vanish, and promptly. + + MELLISH. Can I leave thee here + Thus thinly clad, exposed to vernal dews? + Come back with me, my son, unto our lodge. + + CASHEL. Within this breast a fire is newly lit + Whose glow shall sun the dew away, whose radiance + Shall make the orb of night hang in the heavens + Unnoticed, like a glow-worm at high noon. + + MELLISH. Ah me, ah me, where wilt thou spend the night? + + CASHEL. Wiltstoken's windows wandering beneath, + Wiltstoken's holy bell hearkening, + Wiltstoken's lady loving breathlessly. + + MELLISH. The lady of the castle! Thou art mad. + + CASHEL. 'Tis thou art mad to trifle in my path. + Thwart me no more. Begone. + + MELLISH. My boy, my son, + I'd give my heart's blood for thy happiness. + Thwart thee, my son! Ah, no. I'll go with thee. + I'll brave the dews. I'll sacrifice my sleep. + I am old--no matter: ne'er shall it be said + Mellish deserted thee. + + CASHEL. You resolute gods + That will not spare this man, upon your knees + Take the disparity twixt his age and mine. + Now from the ring to the high judgment seat + I step at your behest. Bear you me witness + This is not Victory, but Execution. + + [_He solemnly projects his fist with colossal force + against the waistcoat of_ MELLISH _who doubles up like + a folded towel, and lies without sense or motion_. + + And now the night is beautiful again. + + [_The castle clock strikes the hour in the distance._ + + Hark! Hark! Hark! Hark! Hark! Hark! Hark! Hark! Hark! Hark! + It strikes in poetry. 'Tis ten o'clock. + Lydia: to thee! + + [_He steals off towards the castle._ MELLISH _stirs and groans_. + + + + + ACT II + + + SCENE I + + _London. A room in Lydia's house_ + + _Enter_ LYDIA _and_ LUCIAN + + + LYDIA. Welcome, dear cousin, to my London house. + Of late you have been chary of your visits. + + LUCIAN. I have been greatly occupied of late. + The minister to whom I act as scribe + In Downing Street was born in Birmingham, + And, like a thoroughbred commercial statesman, + Splits his infinities, which I, poor slave, + Must reunite, though all the time my heart + Yearns for my gentle coz's company. + + LYDIA. Lucian: there is some other reason. Think! + Since England was a nation every mood + Her scribes have prepositionally split; + But thine avoidance dates from yestermonth. + + LUCIAN. There is a man I like not haunts this house. + + LYDIA. Thou speak'st of Cashel Byron? + + LUCIAN. Aye, of him. + Hast thou forgotten that eventful night + When as we gathered were at Hoskyn House + To hear a lecture by Herr Abendgasse, + He placed a single finger on my chest, + And I, ensorceled, would have sunk supine + Had not a chair received my falling form. + + LYDIA. Pooh! That was but by way of illustration. + + LUCIAN. What right had he to illustrate his point + Upon my person? Was I his assistant + That he should try experiments on me + As Simpson did on his with chloroform? + Now, by the cannon balls of Galileo + He hath unmanned me: all my nerve is gone. + This very morning my official chief, + Tapping with friendly forefinger this button, + Levelled me like a thunderstricken elm + Flat upon the Colonial Office floor. + + LYDIA. Fancies, coz. + + LUCIAN. Fancies! Fits! the chief said fits! + Delirium tremens! the chlorotic dance + Of Vitus! What could any one have thought? + Your ruffian friend hath ruined me. By Heaven, + I tremble at a thumbnail. Give me drink. + + LYDIA. What ho, without there! Bashville. + + BASHVILLE [_without_]. Coming, madam. + + _Enter_ BASHVILLE + + LYDIA. My cousin ails, Bashville. Procure some wet. [_Exit_ BASHVILLE. + + LUCIAN. Some wet!!! Where learnt _you_ that atrocious word? + This is the language of a flower-girl. + + LYDIA. True. It is horrible. Said I "Some wet"? + I meant, some drink. Why did I say "Some wet"? + Am I ensorceled too? "Some wet"! Fie! fie! + I feel as though some hateful thing had stained me. + Oh, Lucian, how could I have said "Some wet"? + + LUCIAN. The horrid conversation of this man + Hath numbed thy once unfailing sense of fitness. + + LYDIA. Nay, he speaks very well: he's literate: + Shakespear he quotes unconsciously. + + LUCIAN. And yet + Anon he talks pure pothouse. + + _Enter_ BASHVILLE + + BASHVILLE. Sir: your potion. + + LUCIAN. Thanks. [_He drinks._] I am better. + + A NEWSBOY [_calling without_]. Extra special _Star_! + Result of the great fight! Name of the winner! + + LYDIA. Who calls so loud? + + BASHVILLE. The papers, madam. + + LYDIA. Why? + Hath ought momentous happened? + + BASHVILLE. Madam: yes. [_He produces a newspaper._ + All England for these thrilling paragraphs + A week has waited breathless. + + LYDIA. Read them us. + + BASHVILLE [_reading_]. "At noon to-day, unknown to the police, + Within a thousand miles of Wormwood Scrubbs, + Th' Australian Champion and his challenger, + The Flying Dutchman, formerly engaged + I' the mercantile marine, fought to a finish. + Lord Worthington, the well-known sporting peer + Acted as referee." + + LYDIA. Lord Worthington! + + BASHVILLE. "The bold Ned Skene revisited the ropes + To hold the bottle for his quondam novice; + Whilst in the seaman's corner were assembled + Professor Palmer and the Chelsea Snob. + Mellish, whose epigastrium has been hurt, + 'Tis said, by accident at Wiltstoken, + Looked none the worse in the Australian's corner. + The Flying Dutchman wore the Union Jack: + His colors freely sold amid the crowd; + But Cashel's well-known spot of white on blue----" + + LYDIA. _Whose_, did you say? + + BASHVILLE. Cashel's, my lady. + + LYDIA. Lucian: + Your hand--a chair-- + + BASHVILLE. Madam: you're ill. + + LYDIA. Proceed. + What you have read I do not understand; + Yet I will hear it through. Proceed. + + LUCIAN. Proceed. + + BASHVILLE. "But Cashel's well-known spot of white on blue + Was fairly rushed for. Time was called at twelve, + When, with a smile of confidence upon + His ocean-beaten mug----" + + LYDIA. His mug? + + LUCIAN [_explaining_]. His face. + + BASHVILLE [_continuing_]. "The Dutchman came undaunted to the scratch, + But found the champion there already. Both + Most heartily shook hands, amid the cheers + Of their encouraged backers. Two to one + Was offered on the Melbourne nonpareil; + And soon, so fit the Flying Dutchman seemed, + Found takers everywhere. No time was lost + In getting to the business of the day. + The Dutchman led at once, and seemed to land + On Byron's dicebox; but the seaman's reach, + Too short for execution at long shots, + Did not get fairly home upon the ivory; + And Byron had the best of the exchange." + + LYDIA. I do not understand. What were they doing? + + LUCIAN. Fighting with naked fists. + + LYDIA. Oh, horrible! + I'll hear no more. Or stay: how did it end? + Was Cashel hurt? + + LUCIAN [_to_ BASHVILLE]. Skip to the final round. + + BASHVILLE. "Round Three: the rumors that had gone about + Of a breakdown in Byron's recent training + Seemed quite confirmed. Upon the call of time + He rose, and, looking anything but cheerful, + Proclaimed with every breath Bellows to Mend. + At this point six to one was freely offered + Upon the Dutchman; and Lord Worthington + Plunged at this figure till he stood to lose + A fortune should the Dutchman, as seemed certain, + Take down the number of the Panley boy. + The Dutchman, glutton as we know he is, + Seemed this time likely to go hungry. Cashel + Was clearly groggy as he slipped the sailor, + Who, not to be denied, followed him up, + Forcing the fighting mid tremendous cheers." + + LYDIA. Oh stop--no more--or tell the worst at once. + I'll be revenged. Bashville: call the police. + This brutal sailor shall be made to know + There's law in England. + + LUCIAN. Do not interrupt him: + Mine ears are thirsting. Finish, man. What next? + + BASHVILLE. "Forty to one, the Dutchman's friends exclaimed. + Done, said Lord Worthington, who shewed himself + A sportsman every inch. Barely the bet + Was booked, when, at the reeling champion's jaw + The sailor, bent on winning out of hand, + Sent in his right. The issue seemed a cert, + When Cashel, ducking smartly to his left, + Cross-countered like a hundredweight of brick----" + + LUCIAN. Death and damnation! + + LYDIA. Oh, what does it mean? + + BASHVILLE. "The Dutchman went to grass, a beaten man." + + LYDIA. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Oh, well done, Cashel! + + BASHVILLE. "A scene of indescribable excitement + Ensued; for it was now quite evident + That Byron's grogginess had all along + Been feigned to make the market for his backers. + We trust this sample of colonial smartness + Will not find imitators on this side. + The losers settled up like gentlemen; + But many felt that Byron shewed bad taste + In taking old Ned Skene upon his back, + And, with Bob Mellish tucked beneath his oxter, + Sprinting a hundred yards to show the crowd + The perfect pink of his condition"--[_a knock_]. + + LYDIA [_turning pale_]. Bashville + Didst hear? A knock. + + BASHVILLE. Madam: 'tis Byron's knock. + Shall I admit him? + + LUCIAN. Reeking from the ring! + Oh, monstrous! Say you're out. + + LYDIA. Send him away. + I will not see the wretch. How dare he keep + Secrets from ME? I'll punish him. Pray say + I'm not at home. [BASHVILLE _turns to go_.] Yet stay. I am afraid + He will not come again. + + LUCIAN. A consummation + Devoutly to be wished by any lady. + Pray, do you _wish_ this man to come again? + + LYDIA. No, Lucian. He hath used me very ill. + He should have told me. I will ne'er forgive him. + Say, Not at home. + + BASHVILLE. Yes, madam. [_Exit._ + + LYDIA. Stay-- + + LUCIAN [_stopping her_]. No, Lydia: + You shall not countermand that proper order. + Oh, would you cast the treasure of your mind, + The thousands at your bank, and, above all, + Your unassailable social position + Before this soulless mass of beef and brawn? + + LYDIA. Nay, coz: you're prejudiced. + + CASHEL [_without_]. Liar and slave! + + LYDIA. What words were those? + + LUCIAN. The man is drunk with slaughter. + + _Enter_ BASHVILLE _running: he shuts the door and locks it_. + + BASHVILLE. Save yourselves: at the staircase foot the champion + Sprawls on the mat, by trick of wrestler tripped; + But when he rises, woe betide us all! + + LYDIA. Who bade you treat my visitor with violence? + + BASHVILLE. He would not take my answer; thrust the door + Back in my face; gave me the lie i' the throat; + Averred he felt your presence in his bones. + I said he should feel mine there too, and felled him; + Then fled to bar your door. + + LYDIA. O lover's instinct! + He felt my presence. Well, let him come in. + We must not fail in courage with a fighter. + Unlock the door. + + LUCIAN. Stop. Like all women, Lydia, + You have the courage of immunity. + To strike _you_ were against his code of honor; + But _me_, above the belt, he may perform on + T' th' height of his profession. Also Bashville. + + BASHVILLE. Think not of me, sir. Let him do his worst. + Oh, if the valor of my heart could weigh + The fatal difference twixt his weight and mine, + A second battle should he do this day: + Nay, though outmatched I be, let but my mistress + Give me the word: instant I'll take him on + Here--now--at catchweight. Better bite the carpet + A man, than fly, a coward. + + LUCIAN. Bravely said: + I will assist you with the poker. + + LYDIA. No: + I will not have him touched. Open the door. + + BASHVILLE. Destruction knocks thereat. I smile, and open. + + [BASHVILLE _opens the door_. _Dead silence._ CASHEL + _enters, in tears_. _A solemn pause._ + + CASHEL. You know my secret? + + LYDIA. Yes. + + CASHEL. And thereupon + You bade your servant fling me from your door. + + LYDIA. I bade my servant say I was not here. + + CASHEL [_to_ BASHVILLE]. Why didst thou better thy instruction, man? + Hadst thou but said, "She bade me tell thee this," + Thoudst burst my heart. I thank thee for thy mercy. + + LYDIA. Oh, Lucian, didst thou call him "drunk with slaughter"? + Canst thou refrain from weeping at his woe? + + CASHEL [_to_ LUCIAN]. The unwritten law that shields the amateur + Against professional resentment, saves thee. + O coward, to traduce behind their backs + Defenceless prizefighters! + + LUCIAN. Thou dost avow + Thou art a prizefighter. + + CASHEL. It was my glory. + I had hoped to offer to my lady there + My belts, my championships, my heaped-up stakes, + My undefeated record; but I knew + Behind their blaze a hateful secret lurked. + + LYDIA. Another secret? + + LUCIAN. Is there worse to come? + + CASHEL. Know ye not then my mother is an actress? + + LUCIAN. How horrible! + + LYDIA. Nay, nay: how interesting! + + CASHEL. A thousand victories cannot wipe out + That birthstain. Oh, my speech bewrayeth it: + My earliest lesson was the player's speech + In Hamlet; and to this day I express myself + More like a mobled queen than like a man + Of flesh and blood. Well may your cousin sneer! + What's Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba? + + LUCIAN. Injurious upstart: if by Hecuba + Thou pointest darkly at my lovely cousin, + Know that she is to me, and I to her, + What never canst thou be. I do defy thee; + And maugre all the odds thy skill doth give, + Outside I will await thee. + + LYDIA. I forbid + Expressly any such duello. Bashville: + The door. Put Mr. Webber in a hansom, + And bid the driver hie to Downing Street. + No answer: 'tis my will. [_Exeunt_ LUCIAN _and_ BASHVILLE. + And now, farewell. + You must not come again, unless indeed + You can some day look in my eyes and say: + Lydia: my occupation's gone. + + CASHEL. Ah, no: + It would remind you of my wretched mother. + O God, let me be natural a moment! + What other occupation can I try? + What would you have me be? + + LYDIA. A gentleman. + + CASHEL. A gentleman! I, Cashel Byron, stoop + To be the thing that bets on me! the fool + I flatter at so many coins a lesson! + The screaming creature who beside the ring + Gambles with basest wretches for my blood, + And pays with money that he never earned! + Let me die broken-hearted rather! + + LYDIA. But + You need not be an idle gentleman. + I call you one of Nature's gentlemen. + + CASHEL. That's the collection for the loser, Lydia. + I am not wont to need it. When your friends + Contest elections, and at foot o' th' poll + Rue their presumption, 'tis their wont to claim + A moral victory. In a sort they are + Nature's M. P.s. I am not yet so threadbare + As to accept these consolation stakes. + + LYDIA. You are offended with me. + + CASHEL. Yes, I am. + I can put up with much; but--"Nature's gentleman"! + I thank your ladyship of Lyons, but + Must beg to be excused. + + LYDIA. But surely, surely, + To be a prizefighter, and maul poor mariners + With naked knuckles, is no work for you. + + CASHEL. Thou dost arraign the inattentive Fates + That weave my thread of life in ruder patterns + Than these that lie, antimacassarly, + Asprent thy drawingroom. As well demand + Why I at birth chose to begin my life + A speechless babe, hairless, incontinent, + Hobbling upon all fours, a nurse's nuisance? + Or why I do propose to lose my strength, + To blanch my hair, to let the gums recede + Far up my yellowing teeth, and finally + Lie down and moulder in a rotten grave? + Only one thing more foolish could have been, + And that was to be born, not man, but woman. + This was thy folly, why rebuk'st thou mine? + + LYDIA. These are not things of choice. + + CASHEL. And did I choose + My quick divining eye, my lightning hand, + My springing muscle and untiring heart? + Did I implant the instinct in the race + That found a use for these, and said to me, + Fight for us, and be fame and fortune thine? + + LYDIA. But there are other callings in the world. + + CASHEL. Go tell thy painters to turn stockbrokers, + Thy poet friends to stoop o'er merchants' desks + And pen prose records of the gains of greed. + Tell bishops that religion is outworn, + And that the Pampa to the horsebreaker + Opes new careers. Bid the professor quit + His fraudulent pedantries, and do i' the world + The thing he would teach others. Then return + To me and say: Cashel: they have obeyed; + And on that pyre of sacrifice I, too, + Will throw my championship. + + LYDIA. But 'tis so cruel. + + CASHEL. Is it so? I have hardly noticed that, + So cruel are all callings. Yet this hand, + That many a two days' bruise hath ruthless given, + Hath kept no dungeon locked for twenty years, + Hath slain no sentient creature for my sport. + I am too squeamish for your dainty world, + That cowers behind the gallows and the lash, + The world that robs the poor, and with their spoil + Does what its tradesmen tell it. Oh, your ladies! + Sealskinned and egret-feathered; all defiance + To Nature; cowering if one say to them + "What will the servants think?" Your gentlemen! + Your tailor-tyrannized visitors of whom + Flutter of wing and singing in the wood + Make chickenbutchers. And your medicine men! + Groping for cures in the tormented entrails + Of friendly dogs. Pray have you asked all these + To change their occupations? Find you mine + So grimly crueller? I cannot breathe + An air so petty and so poisonous. + + LYDIA. But find you not their manners very nice? + + CASHEL. To me, perfection. Oh, they condescend + With a rare grace. Your duke, who condescends + Almost to the whole world, might for a Man + Pass in the eyes of those who never saw + The duke capped with a prince. See then, ye gods, + The duke turn footman, and his eager dame + Sink the great lady in the obsequious housemaid! + Oh, at such moments I could wish the Court + Had but one breadbasket, that with my fist + I could make all its windy vanity + Gasp itself out on the gravel. Fare you well. + I did not choose my calling; but at least + I can refrain from being a gentleman. + + LYDIA. You say farewell to me without a pang. + + CASHEL. My calling hath apprenticed me to pangs. + This is a rib-bender; but I can bear it. + It is a lonely thing to be a champion. + + LYDIA. It is a lonelier thing to be a woman. + + CASHEL. Be lonely then. Shall it be said of thee + That for his brawn thou misalliance mad'st + Wi' the Prince of Ruffians? Never. Go thy ways; + Or, if thou hast nostalgia of the mud, + Wed some bedoggéd wretch that on the slot + Of gilded snobbery, _ventre ŕ terre_, + Will hunt through life with eager nose on earth + And hang thee thick with diamonds. I am rich; + But all my gold was fought for with my hands. + + LYDIA. What dost thou mean by rich? + + CASHEL. There is a man, + Hight Paradise, vaunted unconquerable, + Hath dared to say he will be glad to hear from me. + I have replied that none can hear from _me_ + Until a thousand solid pounds be staked. + His friends have confidently found the money. + Ere fall of leaf that money shall be mine; + And then I shall possess ten thousand pounds. + I had hoped to tempt thee with that monstrous sum. + + LYDIA. Thou silly Cashel, 'tis but a week's income. + I did propose to give thee three times that + For pocket money when we two were wed. + + CASHEL. Give me my hat. I have been fooling here. + Now, by the Hebrew lawgiver, I thought + That only in America such revenues + Were decent deemed. Enough. My dream is dreamed. + Your gold weighs like a mountain on my chest. + Farewell. + + LYDIA. The golden mountain shall be thine + The day thou quit'st thy horrible profession. + + CASHEL. Tempt me not, woman. It is honor calls. + Slave to the Ring I rest until the face + Of Paradise be changed. + + _Enter_ BASHVILLE + + BASHVILLE. Madam, your carriage, + Ordered by you at two. 'Tis now half-past. + + CASHEL. Sdeath! is it half-past two? The king! the king! + + LYDIA. The king! What mean you? + + CASHEL. I must meet a monarch + This very afternoon at Islington. + + LYDIA. At Islington! You must be mad. + + CASHEL. A cab! + Go call a cab; and let a cab be called; + And let the man that calls it be thy footman. + + LYDIA. You are not well. You shall not go alone. + My carriage waits. I must accompany you. + I go to find my hat. [_Exit._ + + CASHEL. Like Paracelsus, + Who went to find his soul. [_To_ BASHVILLE.] And now, young man, + How comes it that a fellow of your inches, + So deft a wrestler and so bold a spirit, + Can stoop to be a flunkey? Call on me + On your next evening out. I'll make a man of you. + Surely you are ambitious and aspire---- + + BASHVILLE. To be a butler and draw corks; wherefore, + By Heaven, I will draw yours. + + [_He hits_ CASHEL _on the nose, and runs out_. + + CASHEL [_thoughtfully putting the side of his forefinger + to his nose_, _and studying the blood on it_]. + + Too quick for _me_! + There's money in this youth. + + _Re-enter_ LYDIA, _hatted and gloved_. + + LYDIA. O Heaven! you bleed. + + CASHEL. Lend me a key or other frigid object, + That I may put it down my back, and staunch + The welling life stream. + + LYDIA. [_giving him her keys_]. Oh, what _have_ you done? + + CASHEL. Flush on the boko napped your footman's left. + + LYDIA. I do not understand. + + CASHEL. True. Pardon me. + I have received a blow upon the nose + In sport from Bashville. Next, ablution; else + I shall be total gules. [_He hurries out._ + + LYDIA. How well he speaks! + There is a silver trumpet in his lips + That stirs me to the finger ends. His nose + Dropt lovely color: 'tis a perfect blood. + I would 'twere mingled with mine own! + + _Enter_ BASHVILLE + + What now? + + BASHVILLE. Madam, the coachman can no longer wait: + The horses will take cold. + + LYDIA. I do beseech him + A moment's grace. Oh, mockery of wealth! + The third class passenger unchidden rides + Whither and when he will: obsequious trams + Await him hourly: subterranean tubes + With tireless coursers whisk him through the town; + But we, the rich, are slaves to Houyhnhnms: + We wait upon their colds, and frowst all day + Indoors, if they but cough or spurn their hay. + + BASHVILLE. Madam, an omnibus to Euston Road, + And thence t' th' Angel-- + + _Enter_ CASHEL + + LYDIA. Let us haste, my love: + The coachman is impatient. + + CASHEL. Did he guess + He stays for Cashel Byron, he'd outwait + Pompei's sentinel. Let us away. + This day of deeds, as yet but half begun, + Must ended be in merrie Islington. [_Exeunt_ LYDIA _and_ CASHEL. + + BASHVILLE. Gods! how she hangs on's arm! I am alone. + Now let me lift the cover from my soul. + O wasted humbleness! Deluded diffidence! + How often have I said, Lie down, poor footman: + She'll never stoop to thee, rear as thou wilt + Thy powder to the sky. And now, by Heaven, + She stoops below me; condescends upon + This hero of the pothouse, whose exploits, + Writ in my character from my last place, + Would damn me into ostlerdom. And yet + There's an eternal justice in it; for + By so much as the ne'er subduéd Indian + Excels the servile negro, doth this ruffian + Precedence take of me. "_Ich dien._" Damnation! + I serve. My motto should have been, "I scalp." + And yet I do not bear the yoke for gold. + Because I love her I have blacked her boots; + Because I love her I have cleaned her knives, + Doing in this the office of a boy, + Whilst, like the celebrated maid that milks + And does the meanest chares, I've shared the passions + Of Cleopatra. It has been my pride + To give her place the greater altitude + By lowering mine, and of her dignity + To be so jealous that my cheek has flamed + Even at the thought of such a deep disgrace + As love for such a one as I would be + For such a one as she; and now! and now! + A prizefighter! O irony! O bathos! + To have made way for this! Oh, Bashville, Bashville: + Why hast thou thought so lowly of thyself, + So heavenly high of her? Let what will come, + My love must speak: 'twas my respect was dumb. + + + SCENE II + + _The Agricultural Hall in Islington, crowded with spectators. + In the arena a throne, with a boxing ring + before it. A balcony above on the right_, _occupied + by persons of fashion_: _among others_, LYDIA _and_ + LORD WORTHINGTON. + + _Flourish._ _Enter_ LUCIAN _and_ CETEWAYO, _with Chiefs in attendance_. + + CETEWAYO. Is this the Hall of Husbandmen? + + LUCIAN. It is. + + CETEWAYO. Are these anćmic dogs the English people? + + LUCIAN. Mislike us not for our complexions, + The pallid liveries of the pall of smoke + Belched by the mighty chimneys of our factories, + And by the million patent kitchen ranges + Of happy English homes. + + CETEWAYO. When first I came + I deemed those chimneys the fuliginous altars + Of some infernal god. I now perceive + The English dare not look upon the sky. + They are moles and owls: they call upon the soot + To cover them. + + LUCIAN. You cannot understand + The greatness of this people, Cetewayo. + You are a savage, reasoning like a child. + Each pallid English face conceals a brain + Whose powers are proven in the works of Newton + And in the plays of the immortal Shakespear. + There is not one of all the thousands here + But, if you placed him naked in the desert, + Would presently construct a steam engine, + And lay a cable t' th' Antipodes. + + CETEWAYO. Have I been brought a million miles by sea + To learn how men can lie! Know, Father Webber, + Men become civilized through twin diseases, + Terror and Greed to wit: these two conjoined + Become the grisly parents of Invention. + Why does the trembling white with frantic toil + Of hand and brain produce the magic gun + That slays a mile off, whilst the manly Zulu + Dares look his foe i' the face; fights foot to foot; + Lives in the present; drains the Here and Now; + Makes life a long reality, and death + A moment only! whilst your Englishman + Glares on his burning candle's winding-sheets, + Counting the steps of his approaching doom. + And in the murky corners ever sees + Two horrid shadows, Death and Poverty: + In the which anguish an unnatural edge + Comes on his frighted brain, which straight devises + Strange frauds by which to filch unearnéd gold, + Mad crafts by which to slay unfacéd foes, + Until at last his agonized desire + Makes possibility its slave. And then-- + Horrible climax! All-undoing spite!-- + Th' importunate clutching of the coward's hand + From wearied Nature Devastation's secrets + Doth wrest; when straight the brave black-livered man + Is blown explosively from off the globe; + And Death and Dread, with their white-livered slaves + O'er-run the earth, and through their chattering teeth + Stammer the words "Survival of the Fittest." + Enough of this: I came not here to talk. + Thou say'st thou hast two white-faced ones who dare + Fight without guns, and spearless, to the death. + Let them be brought. + + LUCIAN. They fight not to the death, + But under strictest rules: as, for example, + Half of their persons shall not be attacked; + Nor shall they suffer blows when they fall down, + Nor stroke of foot at any time. And, further, + That frequent opportunities of rest + With succor and refreshment be secured them. + + CETEWAYO. Ye gods, what cowards! Zululand, my Zululand: + Personified Pusillanimity + Hath ta'en thee from the bravest of the brave! + + LUCIAN. Lo, the rude savage whose untutored mind + Cannot perceive self-evidence, and doubts + That Brave and English mean the self-same thing! + + CETEWAYO. Well, well, produce these heroes. I surmise + They will be carried by their nurses, lest + Some barking dog or bumbling bee should scare them. + + CETEWAYO _takes his state_. _Enter_ PARADISE + + LYDIA. What hateful wretch is this whose mighty thews + Presage destruction to his adversaries? + + LORD WORTHINGTON. 'Tis Paradise. + + LYDIA. He of whom Cashel spoke? + A dreadful thought ices my heart. Oh, why + Did Cashel leave us at the door? + + _Enter_ CASHEL + + LORD WORTHINGTON. Behold! + The champion comes. + + LYDIA. Oh, I could kiss him now, + Here, before all the world. His boxing things + Render him most attractive. But I fear + Yon villain's fists may maul him. + + WORTHINGTON. Have no fear. + Hark! the king speaks. + + CETEWAYO. Ye sons of the white queen: + Tell me your names and deeds ere ye fall to. + + PARADISE. Your royal highness, you beholds a bloke + What gets his living honest by his fists. + I may not have the polish of some toffs + As I could mention on; but up to now + No man has took my number down. I scale + Close on twelve stun; my age is twenty-three; + And at Bill Richardson's Blue Anchor pub + Am to be heard of any day by such + As likes the job. I don't know, governor, + As ennythink remains for me to say. + + CETEWAYO. Six wives and thirty oxen shalt thou have + If on the sand thou leave thy foeman dead. + Methinks he looks scornfully on thee. + [_To_ CASHEL] Ha! dost thou not so? + + CASHEL. Sir, I do beseech you + To name the bone, or limb, or special place + Where you would have me hit him with this fist. + + CETEWAYO. Thou hast a noble brow; but much I fear + Thine adversary will disfigure it. + + CASHEL. There's a divinity that shapes our ends + Rough hew them how we will. Give me the gloves. + + THE MASTER OF THE REVELS. Paradise, a professor. + Cashel Byron, + Also professor. Time! [_They spar._ + + LYDIA. Eternity + It seems to me until this fight be done. + + CASHEL. Dread monarch: this is called the upper cut, + And this a hook-hit of mine own invention. + The hollow region where I plant this blow + Is called the mark. My left, you will observe, + I chiefly use for long shots: with my right + Aiming beside the angle of the jaw + And landing with a certain delicate screw + I without violence knock my foeman out. + Mark how he falls forward upon his face! + The rules allow ten seconds to get up; + And as the man is still quite silly, I + Might safely finish him; but my respect + For your most gracious majesty's desire + To see some further triumphs of the science + Of self-defence postpones awhile his doom. + + PARADISE. How can a bloke do hisself proper justice + With pillows on his fists? + + [_He tears off his gloves and attacks_ CASHEL _with his bare knuckles_. + + THE CROWD. Unfair! The rules! + + CETEWAYO. The joy of battle surges boiling up + And bids me join the mellay. Isandhlana + And Victory! [_He falls on the bystanders._ + + THE CHIEFS. Victory and Isandhlana! + + [_They run amok. General panic and stampede. The ring is swept away._ + + LUCIAN. Forbear these most irregular proceedings. + Police! Police! + + [_He engages_ CETEWAYO _his umbrella_. _The balcony + comes down with a crash. Screams from its + occupants. Indescribable confusion._ + + CASHEL [_dragging_ LYDIA _from the struggling heap_]. + My love, my love, art hurt? + + LYDIA. No, no; but save my sore o'ermatchéd cousin. + + A POLICEMAN. Give us a lead, sir. Save the English flag. + Africa tramples on it. + + CASHEL. Africa! + Not all the continents whose mighty shoulders + The dancing diamonds of the seas bedeck + Shall trample on the blue with spots of white. + Now, Lydia, mark thy lover. [_He charges the Zulus._ + + LYDIA. Hercules + Cannot withstand him. See: the king is down; + The tallest chief is up, heels over head, + Tossed corklike o'er my Cashel's sinewy back; + And his lieutenant all deflated gasps + For breath upon the sand. The others fly + In vain: his fist o'er magic distances + Like a chameleon's tongue shoots to its mark; + And the last African upon his knees + Sues piteously for quarter. [_Rushing into_ CASHEL'S _arms_.] + Oh, my hero: Thou'st saved us all this day. + + CASHEL. 'Twas all for thee. + + CETEWAYO. [_trying to rise_]. Have I been struck by lightning? + + LUCIAN. Sir, your conduct + Can only be described as most ungentlemanly. + + POLICEMAN. One of the prone is white. + + CASHEL. 'Tis Paradise. + + POLICEMAN. He's choking: he has something in his mouth. + + LYDIA [_to_ CASHEL]. Oh Heaven! there is blood upon your hip. + You're hurt. + + CASHEL. The morsel in yon wretch's mouth + Was bitten out of me. + + [_Sensation._ LYDIA _screams and swoons in_ CASHEL'S _arms_. + + + + + ACT III + + _Wiltstoken. A room in the Warren Lodge_ + + LYDIA _at her writing table_ + + + LYDIA. O Past and Present, how ye do conflict + As here I sit writing my father's life! + The autumn woodland woos me from without + With whispering of leaves and dainty airs + To leave this fruitless haunting of the past. + My father was a very learnéd man. + I sometimes think I shall oldmaided be + Ere I unlearn the things he taught to me. + + _Enter_ POLICEMAN + + POLICEMAN. Asking your ladyship to pardon me + For this intrusion, might I be so bold + As ask a question of your people here + Concerning the Queen's peace? + + LYDIA. My people here + Are but a footman and a simple maid; + And both have craved a holiday to join + Some local festival. But, sir, your helmet + Proclaims the Metropolitan Police. + + POLICEMAN. Madam, it does; and I may now inform you + That what you term a local festival + Is a most hideous outrage 'gainst the law, + Which we to quell from London have come down: + In short, a prizefight. My sole purpose here + Is to inquire whether your ladyship + Any bad characters this afternoon + Has noted in the neighborhood. + + LYDIA. No, none, sir. + I had not let my maid go forth to-day + Thought I the roads unsafe. + + POLICEMAN. Fear nothing, madam: + The force protects the fair. My mission here + Is to wreak ultion for the broken law. + I wish your ladyship good afternoon. + + LYDIA. Good afternoon. [_Exit_ POLICEMAN. + A prizefight! O my heart! + Cashel: hast thou deceived me? Can it be + Thou hast backslidden to the hateful calling + I asked thee to eschew? + O wretched maid, + Why didst thou flee from London to this place + To write thy father's life, whenas in town + Thou might'st have kept a guardian eye on him-- + What's that? A flying footstep-- + + _Enter_ CASHEL + + CASHEL. Sanctuary! + The law is on my track. What! Lydia here! + + LYDIA. Ay: Lydia here. Hast thou done murder, then, + That in so horrible a guise thou comest? + + CASHEL. Murder! I would I had. Yon cannibal + Hath forty thousand lives; and I have ta'en + But thousands thirty-nine. I tell thee, Lydia, + On the impenetrable sarcolobe + That holds his seedling brain these fists have pounded + By Shrewsb'ry clock an hour. This bruiséd grass + And cakéd mud adhering to my form + I have acquired in rolling on the sod + Clinched in his grip. This scanty reefer coat + For decency snatched up as fast I fled + When the police arrived, belongs to Mellish. + 'Tis all too short; hence my display of rib + And forearm mother-naked. Be not wroth + Because I seem to wink at you: by Heaven, + 'Twas Paradise that plugged me in the eye + Which I perforce keep closing. Pity me, + My training wasted and my blows unpaid, + Sans stakes, sans victory, sans everything + I had hoped to win. Oh, I could sit me down + And weep for bitterness. + + LYDIA. Thou wretch, begone. + + CASHEL. Begone! + + LYDIA. I say begone. Oh, tiger's heart + Wrapped in a young man's hide, canst thou not live + In love with Nature and at peace with Man? + Must thou, although thy hands were never made + To blacken others' eyes, still batter at + The image of Divinity? I loathe thee. + Hence from my house and never see me more. + + CASHEL. I go. The meanest lad on thy estate + Would not betray me thus. But 'tis no matter. [_He opens the door._ + Ha! the police. I'm lost. [_He shuts the door again._ + Now shalt thou see + My last fight fought. Exhausted as I am, + To capture me will cost the coppers dear. + Come one, come all! + + LYDIA. Oh, hide thee, I implore: + I cannot see thee hunted down like this. + There is my room. Conceal thyself therein. + Quick, I command. [_He goes into the room._ + With horror I foresee, + Lydia, that never lied, must lie for thee. + + _Enter_ POLICEMAN, _with_ PARADISE _and_ MELLISH _in + custody_, BASHVILLE, _constable_s, _and others_ + + POLICEMAN. Keep back your bruiséd prisoner lest he shock + This wellbred lady's nerves. Your pardon, ma'am; + But have you seen by chance the other one? + In this direction he was seen to run. + + LYDIA. A man came here anon with bloody hands + And aspect that did turn my soul to snow. + + POLICEMAN. 'Twas he. What said he? + + LYDIA. Begged for sanctuary. + I bade the man begone. + + POLICEMAN. Most properly. + Saw you which way he went? + + LYDIA. I cannot tell. + + PARADISE. He seen me coming; and he done a bunk. + + POLICEMAN. Peace, there. Excuse his damaged features, lady: + He's Paradise; and this one's Byron's trainer, + Mellish. + + MELLISH. Injurious copper, in thy teeth + I hurl the lie. I am no trainer, I. + My father, a respected missionary, + Apprenticed me at fourteen years of age + T' the poetry writing. To these woods I came + With Nature to commune. My revery + Was by a sound of blows rudely dispelled. + Mindful of what my sainted parent taught, + I rushed to play the peacemaker, when lo! + These minions of the law laid hands on me. + + BASHVILLE. A lovely woman, with distracted cries, + In most resplendent fashionable frock, + Approaches like a wounded antelope. + + _Enter_ ADELAIDE GISBORNE + + ADELAIDE. Where is my Cashel? Hath he been arrested? + + POLICEMAN. I would I had thy Cashel by the collar: + He hath escaped me. + + ADELAIDE. Praises be for ever! + + LYDIA. Why dost thou call the missing man _thy_ Cashel? + + ADELAIDE. He is mine only son. + + ALL. Thy son! + + ADELAIDE. My son. + + LYDIA. I thought his mother hardly would have known him, + So crushed his countenance. + + ADELAIDE. A ribald peer, + Lord Worthington by name, this morning came + With honeyed words beseeching me to mount + His four-in-hand, and to the country hie + To see some English sport. Being by nature + Frank as a child, I fell into the snare, + But took so long to dress that the design + Failed of its full effect; for not until + The final round we reached the horrid scene. + Be silent all; for now I do approach + My tragedy's catastrophe. Know, then, + That Heaven did bless me with an only son, + A boy devoted to his doting mother---- + + POLICEMAN. Hark! did you hear an oath from yonder room? + + ADELAIDE. Respect a broken-hearted mother's grief, + And do not interrupt me in my scene. + Ten years ago my darling disappeared + (Ten dreary twelvemonths of continuous tears, + Tears that have left me prematurely aged; + For I am younger far than I appear). + Judge of my anguish when to-day I saw + Stripped to the waist, and fighting like a demon + With one who, whatsoe'er his humble virtues, + Was clearly not a gentleman, my son! + + ALL. O strange event! O passing tearful tale! + + ADELAIDE. I thank you from the bottom of my heart + For the reception you have given my woe; + And now I ask, where is my wretched son? + He must at once come home with me, and quit + A course of life that cannot be allowed. + + _Enter_ CASHEL + + CASHEL. Policeman: I do yield me to the law. + + LYDIA. Oh, no. + + ADELAIDE. My son! + + CASHEL. My mother! Do not kiss me. + My visage is too sore. + + POLICEMAN. The lady hid him. + This is a regular plant. You cannot be + Up to that sex. [_To_ CASHEL] You come along with me. + + LYDIA. Fear not, my Cashel: I will bail thee out. + + CASHEL. Never. I do embrace my doom with joy. + With Paradise in Pentonville or Portland + I shall feel safe: there are no mothers there. + + ADELAIDE. Ungracious boy-- + + CASHEL. Constable: bear me hence. + + MELLISH. Oh, let me sweetest reconcilement make + By calling to thy mind that moving song:-- + + [_Sings_] They say there is no other-- + + CASHEL. Forbear at once, or the next note of music + That falls upon thine ear shall clang in thunder + From the last trumpet. + + ADELAIDE. A disgraceful threat + To level at this virtuous old man. + + LYDIA. Oh, Cashel, if thou scorn'st thy mother thus, + How wilt thou treat thy wife? + + CASHEL. There spake my fate: + I knew you would say that. Oh, mothers, mothers, + Would you but let your wretched sons alone + Life were worth living! Had I any choice + In this importunate relationship? + None. And until that high auspicious day + When the millennium on an orphaned world + Shall dawn, and man upon his fellow look, + Reckless of consanguinity, my mother + And I within the self-same hemisphere + Conjointly may not dwell. + + ADELAIDE. Ungentlemanly! + + CASHEL. I am no gentleman. I am a criminal, + Redhanded, baseborn-- + + ADELAIDE. Baseborn! Who dares say it? + Thou art the son and heir of Bingley Bumpkin + FitzAlgernon de Courcy Cashel Byron, + Sieur of Park Lane and Overlord of Dorset, + Who after three months' wedded happiness + Rashly fordid himself with prussic acid, + Leaving a tearstained note to testify + That having sweetly honeymooned with me, + He now could say, O Death, where is thy sting? + + POLICEMAN. Sir: had I known your quality, this cop + I had averted; but it is too late. + The law's above us both. + + _Enter_ LUCIAN, _with an Order in Council_ + + LUCIAN. Not so, policeman + I bear a message from The Throne itself + Of fullest amnesty for Byron's past. + Nay, more: of Dorset deputy lieutenant + He is proclaimed. Further, it is decreed, + In memory of his glorious victory + Over our country's foes at Islington, + The flag of England shall for ever bear + On azure field twelve swanlike spots of white; + And by an exercise of feudal right + Too long disused in this anarchic age + Our sovereign doth confer on him the hand + Of Miss Carew, Wiltstoken's wealthy heiress. [_General acclamation._ + + POLICEMAN. Was anything, sir, said about me? + + LUCIAN. Thy faithful services are not forgot: + In future call thyself Inspector Smith. [_Renewed acclamation._ + + POLICEMAN. I thank you, sir. I thank you, gentlemen. + + LUCIAN. My former opposition, valiant champion, + Was based on the supposed discrepancy + Betwixt your rank and Lydia's. Here's my hand. + + BASHVILLE. And I do here unselfishly renounce + All my pretensions to my lady's favor. [_Sensation._ + + LYDIA. What, Bashville! didst thou love me? + + BASHVILLE. Madam: yes. + 'Tis said: now let me leave immediately. + + LYDIA. In taking, Bashville, this most tasteful course + You are but acting as a gentleman + In the like case would act. I fully grant + Your perfect right to make a declaration + Which flatters me and honors your ambition. + Prior attachment bids me firmly say + That whilst my Cashel lives, and polyandry + Rests foreign to the British social scheme, + Your love is hopeless; still, your services, + Made zealous by disinterested passion, + Would greatly add to my domestic comfort; + And if---- + + CASHEL. Excuse me. I have other views. + I've noted in this man such aptitude + For art and exercise in his defence + That I prognosticate for him a future + More glorious than my past. Henceforth I dub him + The Admirable Bashville, Byron's Novice; + And to the utmost of my mended fortunes + Will back him 'gainst the world at ten stone six. + + ALL. Hail, Byron's Novice, champion that shall be! + + BASHVILLE. Must I renounce my lovely lady's service, + And mar the face of man? + + CASHEL. 'Tis Fate's decree. + For know, rash youth, that in this star crost world + Fate drives us all to find our chiefest good + In what we _can_, and not in what we _would_. + + POLICEMAN. A post-horn--hark! + + CASHEL. What noise of wheels is this? + + LORD WORTHINGTON _drives upon the scene in his four-in-hand_, + _and descends_ + + ADELAIDE. Perfidious peer! + + LORD WORTHINGTON. Sweet Adelaide---- + + ADELAIDE. Forbear, + Audacious one: my name is Mrs. Byron. + + LORD WORTHINGTON. Oh, change that title for the sweeter one + Of Lady Worthington. + + CASHEL. Unhappy man, + You know not what you do. + + LYDIA. Nay, 'tis a match + Of most auspicious promise. Dear Lord Worthington, + You tear from us our mother-in-law-- + + CASHEL. Ha! true. + + LYDIA.--but we will make the sacrifice. She blushes: + At least she very prettily produces + Blushing's effect. + + ADELAIDE. My lord: I do accept you. [_They embrace. Rejoicings._ + + CASHEL [_aside_]. It wrings my heart to see my noble backer + Lay waste his future thus. The world's a chessboard, + And we the merest pawns in fist of Fate. + [_Aloud._] And now, my friends, gentle and simple both, + Our scene draws to a close. In lawful course + As Dorset's deputy lieutenant I + Do pardon all concerned this afternoon + In the late gross and brutal exhibition + Of miscalled sport. + + LYDIA [_throwing herself into his arms_]. Your boats + are burnt at last. + + CASHEL. This is the face that burnt a thousand boats, + And ravished Cashel Byron from the ring. + But to conclude. Let William Paradise + Devote himself to science, and acquire, + By studying the player's speech in Hamlet, + A more refined address. You, Robert Mellish, + To the Blue Anchor hostelry attend him; + Assuage his hurts, and bid Bill Richardson + Limit his access to the fatal tap. + Now mount we on my backer's four-in-hand, + And to St. George's Church, whose portico + Hanover Square shuts off from Conduit Street, + Repair we all. Strike up the wedding march; + And, Mellish, let thy melodies trill forth + Broad o'er the wold as fast we bowl along. + Give me the post-horn. Loose the flowing rein; + And up to London drive with might and main. [_Exeunt._ + + + + +NOTE ON MODERN PRIZEFIGHTING + + +In 1882, when this book was written, prizefighting seemed to be dying +out. Sparring matches with boxing gloves, under the Queensberry rules, +kept pugilism faintly alive; but it was not popular, because the public, +which cares only for the excitement of a strenuous fight, believed then +that the boxing glove made sparring as harmless a contest of pure skill +as a fencing match with buttoned foils. This delusion was supported by +the limitation of the sparring match to boxing. In the prize-ring under +the old rules a combatant might trip, hold, or throw his antagonist; so +that each round finished either with a knockdown blow, which, except +when it is really a liedown blow, is much commoner in fiction than it +was in the ring, or with a visible body-to-body struggle ending in a +fall. In a sparring match all that happens is that a man with a watch in +his hand cries out "Time!" whereupon the two champions prosaically stop +sparring and sit down for a minute's rest and refreshment. The +unaccustomed and inexpert spectator in those days did not appreciate the +severity of the exertion or the risk of getting hurt: he underrated them +as ignorantly as he would have overrated the more dramatically obvious +terrors of a prizefight. Consequently the interest in the annual +sparrings for the Queensberry Championships was confined to the few +amateurs who had some critical knowledge of the game of boxing, and to +the survivors of the generation for which the fight between Sayers and +Heenan had been described in The Times as solemnly as the University +Boat Race. In short, pugilism was out of fashion because the police had +suppressed the only form of it which fascinated the public by its +undissembled pugnacity. + +All that was needed to rehabilitate it was the discovery that the glove +fight is a more trying and dangerous form of contest than the old +knuckle fight. Nobody knew that then: everybody knows it, or ought to +know it, now. And, accordingly, pugilism is more prosperous to-day than +it has ever been before. + +How far this result was foreseen by the author of the Queensberry Rules, +which superseded those of the old prize-ring, will probably never be +known. There is no doubt that they served their immediate turn +admirably. That turn was, the keeping alive of boxing in the teeth of +the law against prizefighting. Magistrates believed, as the public +believed, that when men's knuckles were muffled in padded gloves; when +they were forbidden to wrestle or hold one another; when the duration of +a round was fixed by the clock, and the number of rounds limited to what +seems (to those who have never tried) to be easily within the limits of +ordinary endurance; and when the traditional interval for rest between +the rounds was doubled, that then indeed violence must be checkmated, so +that the worst the boxers could do was to "spar for points" before three +gentlemanly members of the Stock Exchange, who would carefully note the +said points on an examination paper at the ring side, awarding marks +only for skill and elegance, and sternly discountenancing the claims of +brute force. It may be that both the author of the rules and the +"judges" who administered them in the earlier days really believed all +this; for, as far as I know, the limit of an amateur pugilist's romantic +credulity has never yet been reached and probably never will. But if so, +their good intentions were upset by the operation of a single new rule. +Thus. + +In the old prize-ring a round had no fixed duration. It was terminated +by the fall of one of the combatants (in practice usually both of them), +and was followed by an interval of half a minute for recuperation. The +practical effect of this was that a combatant could always get a respite +of half a minute whenever he wanted it by pretending to be knocked down: +"finding the earth the safest place," as the old phrase went. For this +the Marquess of Queensberry substituted a rule that a round with the +gloves should last a specified time, usually three or four minutes, and +that a combatant who did not stand up to his opponent continuously +during that time (ten seconds being allowed for rising in the event of a +knock-down) lost the battle. That unobtrusively slipped-in ten seconds +limit has produced the modern glove fight. Its practical effect is that +a man dazed by a blow or a fall for, say, twelve seconds, which would +not have mattered in an old-fashioned fight with its thirty seconds +interval,[1] has under the Queensberry rules either to lose or else +stagger to his feet in a helpless condition and be eagerly battered into +insensibility by his opponent before he can recover his powers of +self-defence. The notion that such a battery cannot be inflicted with +boxing gloves is only entertained by people who have never used them or +seen them used. I may say that I have myself received, in an accident, a +blow in the face, involving two macadamized holes in it, more violent +than the most formidable pugilist could have given me with his bare +knuckles. This blow did not stun or disable me even momentarily. On the +other hand, I have seen a man knocked quite silly by a tap from the most +luxurious sort of boxing glove made, wielded by a quite unathletic +literary man sparring for the first time in his life. The human jaw, +like the human elbow, is provided, as every boxer knows, with a "funny +bone"; and the pugilist who is lucky enough to jar that funny bone with +a blow practically has his opponent at his mercy for at least ten +seconds. Such a blow is called a "knock-out." The funny bone and the +ten-seconds rule explain the development of Queensberry sparring into +the modern knocking-out match or glove fight. + +[1] In a treatise on boxing by Captain Edgeworth Johnstone, +just published, I read, "In the days of the prize-ring, fights lasted +for hours; and the knock-out blow was unknown." This statement is a +little too sweeping. The blow was known well enough. A veteran +prizefighter once described to me his first experience of its curious +effect on the senses. Only, as he had thirty seconds to recover in +instead of ten, it did not end the battle. The thirty seconds made the +knock-out so unlikely that the old pugilists regarded it as a rare +accident, not worth trying for. The glove fighter tries for nothing +else. Nevertheless knock-outs, and very dramatic ones too (Mace by King, +for example), did occur in the prize-ring from time to time. Captain +Edgeworth Johnstone's treatise is noteworthy in comparison with the +earlier Badminton handbook of sparring by Mr. E. B. Michell (one of the +Queensberry champions) as throwing over the old teaching of prize-ring +boxing with mufflers, and going in frankly for glove fighting, or, to +put it classically, cestus boxing. + +This development got its first impulse from the discovery by sparring +competitors that the only way in which a boxer, however skilful, could +make sure of a verdict in his favor, was by knocking his opponent out. +This will be easily understood by any one who remembers the pugilistic +Bench of those days. The "judges" at the competitions were invariably +ex-champions: that is, men who had themselves won former competitions. +Now the judicial faculty, if it is not altogether a legal fiction, is at +all events pretty rare even among men whose ordinary pursuits tend to +cultivate it, and to train them in dispassionateness. Among pugilists it +is quite certainly very often non-existent. The average pugilist is a +violent partisan, who seldom witnesses a hot encounter without getting +much more excited than the combatants themselves. Further, he is usually +filled with a local patriotism which makes him, if a Londoner, deem it a +duty to disparage a provincial, and, if a provincial, to support a +provincial at all hazards against a cockney. He has, besides, personal +favorites on whose success he bets wildly. On great occasions like the +annual competitions, he is less judicial and more convivial after dinner +(when the finals are sparred) than before it. Being seldom a fine boxer, +he often regards skill and style as a reflection on his own +deficiencies, and applauds all verdicts given for "game" alone. When he +is a technically good boxer, he is all the less likely to be a good +critic, as Providence seldom lavishes two rare gifts on the same +individual. Even if we take the sanguine and patriotic view that when +you appoint such a man a judge, and thus stop his betting, you may +depend on his sense of honor and responsibility to neutralize all the +other disqualifications, they are sure to be exhibited most extremely by +the audience before which he has to deliver his verdict. Now it takes a +good deal of strength of mind to give an unpopular verdict; and this +strength of mind is not necessarily associated with the bodily hardihood +of the champion boxer. Consequently, when the strength of mind is not +forthcoming, the audience becomes the judge, and the popular competitor +gets the verdict. And the shortest way to the heart of a big audience is +to stick to your man; stop his blows bravely with your nose and return +them with interest; cover yourself and him with your own gore; and +outlast him in a hearty punching match. + +It was under these circumstances that the competitors for sparring +championships concluded that they had better decide the bouts themselves +by knocking their opponents out, and waste no time in cultivating a +skill and style for which they got little credit, and which actually set +some of the judges against them. The public instantly began to take an +interest in the sport. And so, by a pretty rapid evolution, the +dexterities which the boxing glove and the Queensberry rules were +supposed to substitute for the old brutalities of Sayers and Heenan were +really abolished by them. + +Let me describe the process as I saw it myself. Twenty years ago a poet +friend of mine, who, like all poets, delighted in combats, insisted on +my sharing his interest in pugilism, and took me about to all the boxing +competitions of the day. I was nothing loth; for, my own share of +original sin apart, any one with a sense of comedy must find the arts of +self-defence delightful (for a time) through their pedantry, their +quackery, and their action and reaction between amateur romantic +illusion and professional eye to business. + +The fencing world, as Moličre well knew, is perhaps a more exquisite +example of a fool's paradise than the boxing world; but it is too +restricted and expensive to allow play for popular character in a +non-duelling country, as the boxing world (formerly called quite +appropriately "the Fancy") does. At all events, it was the boxing world +that came under my notice; and as I was amused and sceptically +observant, whilst the true amateurs about me were, for the most part, +merely excited and duped, my evidence may have a certain value when the +question comes up again for legislative consideration, as it assuredly +will some day. + +The first competitions I attended were at the beginning of the eighties, +at Lillie Bridge, for the Queensberry championships. There were but few +competitors, including a fair number of gentlemen; and the style of +boxing aimed at was the "science" bequeathed from the old prize-ring by +Ned Donnelly, a pupil of Nat Langham. Langham had once defeated Sayers, +and thereby taught him the tactics by which he defeated Heenan. There +was as yet no special technique of glove fighting: the traditions and +influence of the old ring were unquestioned and supreme; and they +distinctly made for brains, skill, quickness, and mobility, as against +brute violence, not at all on moral grounds, but because experience had +proved that giants did not succeed in the ring under the old rules, and +that crafty middle-weights did. + +This did not last long. The spectators did not want to see skill +defeating violence: they wanted to see violence drawing blood and +pounding its way to a savage and exciting victory in the shortest +possible time (the old prizefight usually dragged on for hours, and was +ended by exhaustion rather than by victory). So did most of the judges. +And the public and the judges naturally had their wish; for the +competitors, as I have already explained, soon discovered that the only +way to make sure of a favorable verdict was to "knock out" their +adversary. All pretence of sparring "for points": that is, for marks on +an examination paper filled up by the judges, and representing nothing +but impracticable academic pedantry in its last ditch, was dropped; and +the competitions became frank fights, with abundance of blood drawn, and +"knock-outs" always imminent. Needless to add, the glove fight soon +began to pay. The select and thinly attended spars on the turf at Lillie +Bridge gave way to crowded exhibitions on the hard boards of St. James's +Hall. These were organized by the Boxing Association; and to them the +provinces, notably Birmingham, sent up a new race of boxers whose sole +aim was to knock their opponent insensible by a right-hand blow on the +jaw, knowing well that no Birmingham man could depend on a verdict +before a London audience for any less undeniable achievement. + +The final step was taken by an American pugilist. He threw off the last +shred of the old hypocrisy of the gloved hand by challenging the whole +world to produce a man who could stand before him for a specified time +without being knocked out. His brief but glorious career completely +re-established pugilism by giving a world-wide advertisement to the fact +that the boxing glove spares nothing but the public conscience, and that +as much ferocity, bloodshed, pain, and risk of serious injury or death +can be enjoyed at a glove fight as at an old-fashioned prizefight, +whilst the strain on the combatants is much greater. It is true that +these horrors are greatly exaggerated by the popular imagination, and +that if boxing were really as dangerous as bicycling, a good many of its +heroes would give it up from simple fright; but this only means that +there is a maximum of damage to the spectator by demoralization, +combined with the minimum of deterrent risk to the poor scrapper in the +ring. + +Poor scrapper, though, is hardly the word for a modern fashionable +American pugilist. To him the exploits of Cashel Byron will seem +ludicrously obscure and low-lived. The contests in which he engages are +like Handel Festivals: they take place in huge halls before enormous +audiences, with cinematographs hard at work recording the scene for +reproduction in London and elsewhere. The combatants divide thousands of +dollars of gate-money between them: indeed, if an impecunious English +curate were to go to America and challenge the premier pugilist, the +spectacle of a match between the Church and the Ring would attract a +colossal crowd; and the loser's share of the gate would be a fortune to +a curate--assuming that the curate would be the loser, which is by no +means a foregone conclusion. At all events, it would be well worth a +bruise or two. So my story of the Agricultural Hall, where William +Paradise sparred for half a guinea, and Cashel Byron stood out for ten +guineas, is no doubt read by the profession in America with amused +contempt. In 1882 it was, like most of my conceptions, a daring +anticipation of coming social developments, though to-day it seems as +far out of date as Slender pulling Sackerson's chain. + +Of these latter-day commercial developments of glove fighting I know +nothing beyond what I gather from the newspapers. The banging matches of +the eighties, in which not one competitor in twenty either exhibited +artistic skill, or, in his efforts to knock out his adversary, succeeded +in anything but tiring and disappointing himself, were for the most part +tedious beyond human endurance. When, after wading through Boxiana and +the files of Bell's Life at the British Museum, I had written Cashel +Byron's Profession, I found I had exhausted the comedy of the subject; +and as a game of patience or solitaire was decidedly superior to an +average spar for a championship in point of excitement, I went no more +to the competitions. Since then six or seven generations of boxers have +passed into peaceful pursuits; and I have no doubt that my experience is +in some respects out of date. The National Sporting Club has arisen; and +though I have never attended its reunions, I take its record of three +pugilists slain as proving and enormous multiplication of contests, +since such accidents are very rare, and in fact do not happen to +reasonably healthy men. I am prepared to admit also that the +disappearance of the old prize-ring technique must by this time have +been compensated by the importation from America of a new glove-fighting +technique; for even in a knocking-out match, brains will try conclusions +with brawn, and finally establish a standard of skill; but I notice that +in the leading contests in America luck seems to be on the side of +brawn, and brain frequently finishes in a state of concussion, a loser +after performing miracles of "science." I use the word luck advisedly; +for one of the fascinations of boxing to the gambler (who is the main +pillar of the sporting world) is that it is a game of hardihood, +pugnacity and skill, all at the mercy of chance. The knock-out itself is +a pure chance. I have seen two powerful laborers batter one another's +jaws with all their might for several rounds apparently without giving +one another as much as a toothache. And I have seen a winning pugilist +collapse at a trifling knock landed by a fluke at the fatal angle. I +once asked an ancient prizefighter what a knock-out was like when it did +happen. He was a man of limited descriptive powers; so he simply pointed +to the heavens and said, "Up in a balloon." An amateur pugilist, with +greater command of language, told me that "all the milk in his head +suddenly boiled over." I am aware that some modern glove fighters of the +American school profess to have reduced the knock-out to a science. But +the results of the leading American combats conclusively discredit the +pretension. When a boxer so superior to his opponent in skill as to be +able practically to hit him where he pleases not only fails to knock him +out, but finally gets knocked out himself, it is clear that the +phenomenon is as complete a mystery pugilistically as it is +physiologically, though every pugilist and every doctor may pretend to +understand it. It is only fair to add that it has not been proved that +any permanent injury to the brain results from it. In any case the +brain, as English society is at present constituted, can hardly be +considered a vital organ. + +This, to the best of my knowledge, is the technical history of the +modern revival of pugilism. It is only one more example of the fact that +legislators, like other people, must learn their business by their own +mistakes, and that the first attempts to suppress an evil by law +generally intensify it. Prizefighting, though often connived at, was +never legal. Even in its palmiest days prizefights were banished from +certain counties by hostile magistrates, just as they have been driven +from the United States and England to Belgium on certain occasions in +our own time. But as the exercise of sparring, conducted by a couple of +gentlemen with boxing gloves on, was regarded as part of a manly +physical education, a convention grew up by which it became practically +legal to make a citizen's nose bleed by a punch from the gloved fist, +and illegal to do the same thing with the naked knuckles. A code of +glove-fighting rules was drawn up by a prominent patron of pugilism; and +this code was practically legalized by the fact that even when a death +resulted from a contest under these rules the accessaries were not +punished. No question was raised as to whether the principals were paid +to fight for the amusement of the spectators, or whether a prize for the +winner was provided in stakes, share of the gate, or a belt with the +title of champion. These, the true criteria of prizefighting, were +ignored; and the sole issue raised was whether the famous dictum of Dr. +Watts, "Your little hands were never made, etc.," had been duly +considered by providing the said little hands with a larger hitting +surface, a longer range, and four ounces extra weight. + +In short, then, what has happened has been the virtual legalization of +prizefighting under cover of the boxing glove. And this is exactly what +public opinion desires. We do not like fighting; but we like looking on +at fights: therefore we require a law which will punish the prizefighter +if he hits us, and secure us the protection of the police whilst we sit +in a comfortable hall and watch him hitting another prizefighter. And +that is just the law we have got at present. + +Thus Cashel Byron's plea for a share of the legal toleration accorded to +the vivisector has been virtually granted since he made it. The +legalization of cruelty to domestic animals under cover of the +anesthetic is only the extreme instance of the same social phenomenon as +the legalization of prizefighting under cover of the boxing glove. The +same passion explains the fascination of both practices; and in both, +the professors--pugilists and physiologists alike--have to persuade the +Home Office that their pursuits are painless and beneficial. But there +is also between them the remarkable difference that the pugilist, who +has to suffer as much as he inflicts, wants his work to be as painless +and harmless as possible whilst persuading the public that it is +thrillingly dangerous and destructive, whilst the vivisector wants to +enjoy a total exemption from humane restrictions in his laboratory +whilst persuading the public that pain is unknown there. Consequently +the vivisector is not only crueller than the prizefighter, but, through +the pressure of public opinion, a much more resolute and uncompromising +liar. For this no one but a Pharisee will single him out for special +blame. All public men lie, as a matter of good taste, on subjects which +are considered serious (in England a serious occasion means simply an +occasion on which nobody tells the truth); and however illogical or +capricious the point of honor may be in man, it is too absurd to assume +that the doctors who, from among innumerable methods of research, +select that of tormenting animals hideously, will hesitate to come on a +platform and tell a soothing fib to prevent the public from punishing +them. No criminal is expected to plead guilty, or to refrain from +pleading not guilty with all the plausibility at his command. In +prizefighting such mendacity is not necessary: on the contrary, if a +famous pugilist were to assure the public that a blow delivered with a +boxing glove could do no injury and cause no pain, and the public +believed him, the sport would instantly lose its following. It is the +prizefighter's interest to abolish the real cruelties of the ring and to +exaggerate the imaginary cruelties of it. It is the vivisector's +interest to refine upon the cruelties of the laboratory, whilst +persuading the public that his victims pass into a delicious euthanasia +and leave behind them a row of bottles containing infallible cures for +all the diseases. Just so, too, does the trainer of performing animals +assure us that his dogs and cats and elephants and lions are taught +their senseless feats by pure kindness. + +The public, as Julius Cćsar remarked nearly 2000 years ago, believes on +the whole, just what it wants to believe. The laboring masses do not +believe the false excuses of the vivisector, because they know that the +vivisector experiments on hospital patients; and the masses belong to +the hospital patient class. The well-to-do people who do not go to +hospitals, and who think they benefit by the experiments made there, +believe the vivisectors' excuses, and angrily abuse and denounce the +anti-vivisectors. The people who "love animals," who keep pets, and +stick pins through butterflies, support the performing dog people, and +are sure that kindness will teach a horse to waltz. And the people who +enjoy a fight will persuade themselves that boxing gloves do not hurt, +and that sparring is an exercise which teaches self-control and +exercises all the muscles in the body more efficiently than any other. + +My own view of prizefighting may be gathered from Cashel Byron's +Profession, and from the play written by me more than ten years later, +entitled Mrs. Warren's Profession. As long as society is so organized +that the destitute athlete and the destitute beauty are forced to choose +between underpaid drudgery as industrial producers, and comparative +self-respect, plenty, and popularity as prizefighters and mercenary +brides, licit or illicit, it is idle to affect virtuous indignation at +their expense. The word prostitute should either not be used at all, or +else applied impartially to all persons who do things for money that +they would not do if they had any other assured means of livelihood. The +evil caused by the prostitution of the Press and the Pulpit is so +gigantic that the prostitution of the prize-ring, which at least makes +no serious moral pretensions, is comparatively negligible by comparison. +Let us not forget, however, that the throwing of a hard word such as +prostitution does not help the persons thus vituperated out of their +difficulty. If the soldier and gladiator fight for money, if men and +women marry for money, if the journalist and novelist write for money, +and the parson preaches for money, it must be remembered that it is an +exceedingly difficult and doubtful thing for an individual to set up his +own scruples or fancies (he cannot himself be sure which they are) +against the demand of the community when it says, Do thus and thus, or +starve. It was easy for Ruskin to lay down the rule of dying rather than +doing unjustly; but death is a plain thing: justice a very obscure +thing. How is an ordinary man to draw the line between right and wrong +otherwise than by accepting public opinion on the subject; and what more +conclusive expression of sincere public opinion can there be than market +demand? Even when we repudiate that and fall back on our private +judgment, the matter gathers doubt instead of clearness. The popular +notion of morality and piety is to simply beg all the most important +questions in life for other people; but when these questions come home +to ourselves, we suddenly discover that the devil's advocate has a +stronger case than we thought: we remember that the way of righteousness +or death was the way of the Inquisition; that hell is paved, not with +bad intentions, but with good ones; that the deeper seers have suggested +that the way to save your soul is perhaps to give it away, casting your +spiritual bread on the waters, so to speak. No doubt, if you are a man +of genius, a Ruskin or an Ibsen, you can divine your way and finally +force your passage. If you have the conceit of fanaticism you can die a +martyr like Charles I. If you are a criminal, or a gentleman of +independent means, you can leave society out of the question and prey on +it. But if you are an ordinary person you take your bread as it comes to +you, doing whatever you can make most money by doing. And you are really +shewing yourself a disciplined citizen and acting with perfect social +propriety in so doing. Society may be, and generally is, grossly wrong +in its offer to you; and you may be, and generally are, grossly wrong +in supporting the existing political structure; but this only means, to +the successful modern prizefighter, that he must reform society before +he can reform himself. A conclusion which I recommend to the +consideration of those foolish misers of personal righteousness who +think they can dispose of social problems by bidding reformers of +society reform themselves first. + +Practically, then, the question raised is whether fighting with gloves +shall be brought, like cockfighting, bear-baiting, and gloveless fist +fighting, explicitly under the ban of the law. I do not propose to argue +that question out here. But of two things I am certain. First, that +glove fighting is quite as fierce a sport as fist fighting. Second, that +if an application were made to the Borough Council of which I am a +member, to hire the Town Hall for a boxing competition, I should vote +against the applicants. + +This second point being evidently the practical one, I had better give +my reason. Exhibition pugilism is essentially a branch of Art: that is +to say, it acts and attracts by propagating feeling. The feeling it +propagates is pugnacity. Sense of danger, dread of danger, impulse to +batter and destroy what threatens and opposes, triumphant delight in +succeeding: this is pugnacity, the great adversary of the social impulse +to live and let live; to establish our rights by shouldering our share +of the social burden; to face and examine danger instead of striking at +it; to understand everything to the point of pardoning (and righting) +everything; to conclude an amnesty with Nature wide enough to include +even those we know the worst of: namely, ourselves. If two men +quarrelled, and asked the Borough Council to lend them a room to fight +it out in with their fists, on the ground that a few minutes' hearty +punching of one another's heads would work off their bad blood and leave +them better friends, each desiring, not victory, but _satisfaction_, I +am not sure that I should not vote for compliance. But if a syndicate of +showmen came and said, Here we have two men who have no quarrel, but who +will, if you pay them, fight before your constituency and thereby make a +great propaganda of pugnacity in it, sharing the profits with us and +with you, I should indignantly oppose the proposition. And if the +majority were against me, I should try to persuade them to at least +impose the condition that the fight should be with naked fists under the +old rules, so that the combatants should, like Sayers and Langham, +depend on bunging up each other's eyes rather than, like the modern +knocker-out, giving one another concussion of the brain. + +I may add, finally, that the present halting between the legal +toleration and suppression of commercial pugilism is much worse than the +extreme of either, because it takes away the healthy publicity and sense +of responsibility which legality and respectability give, without +suppressing the blackguardism which finds its opportunity in shady +pursuits. I use the term commercial advisedly. Put a stop to boxing for +money; and pugilism will give society no further trouble. + + +LONDON, 1901. + + * * * * * + + +THREE PLAYS + +BY BRIEUX + +(Member of the French Academy) + +MATERNITY + +DAMAGED GOODS + +THE THREE DAUGHTERS OF +MONSIEUR DUPONT + +WITH PREFACE BY BERNARD SHAW + +_Translated into English_ + +By Mrs. BERNARD SHAW, ST. JOHN HANKIN +and JOHN POLLOCK + +_12mo. Cloth, price $1.50 net_ + + +"In that kind of comedy," writes BERNARD SHAW, "which is so true to life +that we have to call it tragi-comedy, and which is not only an +entertainment but a history and a criticism of contemporary morals, +BRIEUX is incomparably the greatest writer France has produced since +Moliere." + +The three plays in this volume are a first instalment into English of +the work of a man who has been admitted into the French Academy for his +splendid achievements, and who is recognized by the best thinkers in +Europe as one of the profoundest moral forces expressing itself as +literature to-day. + +No earnest man or woman can read these plays without being deeply moved +and deeply touched. One of the plays was read by Brieux himself, at the +special invitation of the pastor, from the pulpit of a church in Geneva. + + +BERNARD SHAW'S PLAYS + +The following Plays by Bernard Shaw are issued in separate volumes, +bound in stiff paper wrappers. + +_Price 40 cents net per volume_ + + +WIDOWERS' HOUSES + +THE PHILANDERER + +MRS. WARREN'S PROFESSION + +ARMS AND THE MAN + +CANDIDA + +YOU NEVER CAN TELL + +THE ADMIRABLE BASHVILLE + +THE DEVIL'S DISCIPLE + +CĆSAR AND CLEOPATRA + +CAPTAIN BRASSBOUND'S CONVERSION + +MAN AND SUPERMAN + +JOHN BULL'S OTHER ISLAND + +MAJOR BARBARA + +THE MAN OF DESTINY, AND HOW HE LIED TO HER HUSBAND + +THE DOCTOR'S DILEMMA + +GETTING MARRIED + +THE SHEWING-UP OF BLANCO POSNET + +PRESS CUTTINGS + + +BRENTANO'S + +Fifth Avenue and 27th Street New York + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Admirable Bashville, by Bernard Shaw + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADMIRABLE BASHVILLE *** + +***** This file should be named 33085-8.txt or 33085-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/8/33085/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif, Fox in the Stars and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |