The Collected Works of George Bernard Shaw: Plays, Novels, Articles, Letters and Essays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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      Not at all,” Said Lady Geraldine with dignity, looking at him rather severely and wondering how long he had been there.

      “We were discussing sociology.” said Mary.

      “Ah!” he said, serenely. “And have you arrived at any important generalizations?”

      “Most important ones.”

      “What about? — if I may ask.”

      “About marriage.” Lady Geraldine stamped hastily on Mary’s foot, and looked reproachfully at her.

      Mary felt her color deepen, but she faced him boldly.

      “And have you come the usual conclusions?” he said, sitting down near them.

      “What are the usual conclusions?” said Mary.

      “That marriage is a mistake. That men who surrender their liberty, and women who surrender their independence are fools. That children are a nuisance, and so forth.”

      “We have come to any such conclusions. We rather started in with the assumption that marriage is a necessary evil, and were debating how to make the best of it.”

      “On which point you differed, of course.”

      “Why of course?”

      “Because Lady Geraldine is married and you are not. Can I help you to arrive at a compromise? I am peculiarly fitted for the task, because I am not married, and yet I have been married.”

      Lady Geraldine, who had turned her chair so as to avert her face from him, looked round. Disregarding this mute protest, he continued, addressing Mary. “Will you tell me the point at issue?”

      “It is not so very important,” said Mary, a little confused. “We were only exchanging a few casual remarks. A question arose as to whether the best men make the best husbands. I mean the cleverest men — men of genius, for instance. Lady Geraldine said no. She maintains that a goodnatured blockhead makes a far better husband than a Caesar or a Shakespeare.”

      “Did you say that?” said Conolly to Lady Geraldine, with a smile.

      “No,” she replied, almost uncivilly. “Blockheads are never goodnatured. At best, they are only lazy. I said that a man might be a very good husband without any special culture in the arts and sciences. Mary seemed to think that any person who understands as much of painting as an artist, is a person who sympathizes with that artist, and therefore a suitable match for her — or him. I disagree with her. I believe that community of taste for art has just as much to do with matrimonial happiness as community of taste for geography or roast mutton, and no more.”

      “And no more,” repeated Conolly. “You are quite right. Heroes are ill adapted to domestic purposes. That is what you mean, is it not? Perhaps Miss Sutherland will be content with nothing less than a hero.”

      “No,” said Mary. “But T will never admit that a man is not the better for being a hero. According to you, he is the worse. I heartily despise a woman who marries a fool in order that she may live comfortably despotic in her own house. I do not make absolute heroism an indispensable condition — I do not know exactly what heroism means; but I think a man may reasonably be expected to be free from vulgar prejudices against the efforts of artists to make life beautiful; and to have so disciplined himself that a wife can always depend on his selfcontrol and moral rectitude. It must be terrible to live in constant dread of childish explosions of temper from one’s husband, or to fear, at every crisis, that he will not act like a man of sense and honor.”

      Conolly looked at her curiously, and then, with an intent deliberation, that gave the fullest emphasis to his words, leaned a little toward her with his hands upon his knees, and said “Did you ever live with a person whose temper was imperturbable — who never hesitated to apply his principles, and never swerved from acting as they dictated? One who, whatever he might be to himself, was to you so void of petty jealousies, irritabilities and superstitions of ordinary men, that, as far as you understood his view of life, you could calculate his correct behavior beforehand in every crisis with as much certainty as upon the striking of a clock?”

      “No,” said Lady Geraldine emphatically, before Mary could reply; “and I should not like to, either.”

      “You are always right,” said Conolly. “Yet such a person would fulfill Miss Sutherland’s conditions. Like Hamlet,” he continued, turning to Mary, “you want a man that is not Passion’s slave. I hope you may never get him, for I assure you, you will not like him. He would make an excellent God, but a most unpleasant man, and an unbearable husband. What could you be to a wholly self-sufficient man? Affection would be a superfluity with which you would be ashamed to trouble him. I once knew a lady whom I thought the most beautiful, the most accomplished, and the most honest of her sex. This lady met a man who had learned to stand alone in the world — a hard lesson, but one that is relentlessly forced on every sensitive but unlovable boy who has his own way to make, and who knows that, outside himself, there is no God to help him. This man had realized all that is humanly possible in your ideal of a self-disciplined man. The lady was young, and, unlike Lady Geraldine, not wise. Instead of avoiding his imperturbable self-sufficiency, she admired it, loved it, and married it. She found in her husband all that you demand. She never had reason to dread his temper, or to doubt his sense and honor. He needed no petting, no counsel, no support. He had no vulgar prejudices against art, and, indeed, was fonder of it than she was. What she felt about him I can only conjecture. But I know that she ceased to love him, whilst around her thousands of wives were clinging fondly to husbands who bullied and beat them, to fools, savages, drunkards, knaves, Passion’s slaves of many patterns, but all weak enough to need caresses and forgiveness occasionally. Eventually she left him, and it served him right; for this model husband, who had never forfeited his wife’s esteem, or tried her forbearance by word or deed, had led her to believe that he would be as happy without her as with her. A man who is complete in himself needs no wife. If you value your happiness, seek for someone who needs you, who begs for you, and who, because loneliness is death to him, will never cease to need you. Have I made myself clear?”

      “ Yes,” said Mary. “I think I understand, though I do not say I agree.”

      Sir John came in just then, opportunely enough, and he found Conolly quite willing to talk about the prospects of the Company, although the ladies were thereby excluded from any part or interest in the conversation. Mary took the opportunity to slip away, unnoticed save by her hostess. When Conolly’s attention was released by Sir John going to the library fore some papers, he found himself alone with Lady Geraldine.

      “Mr Conolly,”said Lady Geraldine, overcoming , with obvious effort, her reluctance to speak to him: “although you were of course not aware of it, you chose a most unfortunate moment for explaining your views to Miss Sutherland. There are circumstances which render it very undesirable that her judgment should be biased against marriage just at present.”

      “I hardly follow you,” said Conolly, with a benignant self-possession which made Lady Geraldine privately quail. “Are you opposed to the suit of Mr Hoskyn?” She looked at him in consternation.” I see you are surprised by my knowledge of Miss Sutherland’s affairs,” he continued. “But that only convinces me that you do not know Mr Hoskyn. In business matters he can sometimes keep a secret. In personal matters he is indiscretion personified. Everybody in Queen Victoria Street, from the messenger to the Chairman, is informed of the state of his affections.”

      “But СКАЧАТЬ