The Tables Turned Part 8

_All_. Agreed, agreed.

_J. F_. Well, then, let the dog be shot. Bill, it's your turn for an ugly job this time: you must do it.

_W. J_. Well, if it must be, it must. I'll go and get a gun in a minute.

_C. N_. Oh, G.o.d! to think of their disposing of a fellow-man's life with so little ceremony! And probably they will go and eat their dinners afterwards and think nothing of it. (_Throwing himself on his knees before_ JACK FREEMAN.) Oh, your Socialist wors.h.i.+p! Oh, citizen my lord!

spare me, spare me! Send me to prison, load me with chains, but spare my life!

_J. F_. Why, what ails the man? Chains! we don't use chains for that sort of thing. They're good to fasten up boats with, and for carts, and such like; so why should we waste them by ornamenting you with them? And as to prison, we can't send you to prison, because we haven't got one.

How could we have one? who would be the jailer? No, no; we can't be bothered with you in prison. You must learn to behave decently.

_C. N_. What! have you no punishment but death, then? O! what am I to do? what am I to do?

_1st Neighbour_. Do? Why, behave decently.

_C. N_. But how can I behave decently when I'm dead? (_Moans_.)

_2nd Neighbour_. But, neighbour, you must die some time or another, you know. Make the most of your time while you are alive.

_C. N_. Have you the heart to say such things to a man whom you are going to shoot in a few minutes? How horrible! Oh, look here! if you haven't got a prison, build one for me! or make one out of a cellar, and lock me up in it; but don't shoot me--don't!

_W. J_. Well, old acquaintance, to want a prison all to your own cheek!

This is individualism, with a vengeance! It beats Auberon Herbert. But who is going to shoot you?

_C. N_. Why, you. He said shoot the dog (_weeping_).

_W. J_. Well, citizen, I must say that either your estimate of yourself is modest, or your conscience is bad, that you must take that t.i.tle to yourself! No; it _is_ a bad business, but not so bad as that. It's not you that we're going to shoot, but a poor devil of a dog--a real dog, with a tail, you know--who has taken to killing sheep. And I'm sorry to say that social ethics have given me the job of shooting him. But come, now, you shall do it for me: you used to be a great upholder of capital punishment.

_C. N_. But what are you going to do with me, then? How are you going to punish me?

_J. F_. Punish you? how can we punish you? who do you think is going to do such work as that! People punish others because they like to; and we don't like to. Once more, learn to live decently.

_G. N_. But how _am_ I to live?

_J. F_. You must work a little.

_C. N_. But what at, since you object to lawyers?

_J. F_. Look round you, friend, at the fields all yellowing for harvest,--we will find you work to do.

_C. N_. (_Aside_: Ah, I see. This means hard labour for life, after all.

Well, I must submit. Unhappy Nupkins! _To_ FREEMAN) But who is to employ me? You will have to find me a master; and perhaps he won't like to employ me.

_J. F_. My friend, we no more have masters than we have prisons: the first make the second. You must employ yourself: and you must also employ something else.

_C. N_. What? I don't understand.

_J. F_. Mother Earth, and the traditions and devices of all the generations of men whom she has nourished. All that is for you, Nupkins, if you only knew it.

_C. N_. I still do not comprehend your apologue.

_J. F_. No? Well, we must put aside abstractions and get to the concrete. What's this, citizen? (_showing a spade_.)

_C. N_. That is an instrument for effodiation.

_J. F_. Otherwise called a spade. Well, to use your old jargon, citizen, the sentence of this court is that you do take this instrument of effodiation, commonly called a spade, and that you do effodiate your livelihood therewith; in other words, that you do dig potatoes and other roots and worts during the pleasure of this court. And, to drop jargon, since you are so badly educated our friend Robert Pinch--Mary's husband--will show you how to do it. Is that agreed to, neighbours?

_All_. Agreed, agreed.

_W. J_. (_rather surlily_). I don't think he will get on well. Now he knows we are not going to serve him out, he is beginning to look sour on us for being happy. You see, he will be trying some of his old lawyers'

tricks again.

_J. F_. Well, Bill, it won't much matter. He can't hurt us; so we will hope the best for him.

_M. P_. Should we hurt his feelings by being a little merry in his presence now?

_J. F_. Well, I think we may risk it. Let those of you who are not too lazy to dance, as I am, do so to the tune that sprang up at the dawn of freedom in the days of our great-grandfathers.

[_They dance round_ CITIZEN NUPKINS, _singing the following words to the tune of the_ "_Carmagnole_":

_What's this that the days and the days have done_?

_Man's lords.h.i.+p over man hath gone_.

_How fares it, then, with high and low_?

_Equal on earth, they thrive and grow_.

_Bright is the sun for everyone_; _Dance we, dance we the Carmagnole_.

_How deal ye, then, with pleasure and pain_?

_Alike we share and bear the twain_.

_And what's the craft whereby ye live_?

_Earth and man's work to all men give_.

_How crown ye excellence of worth_?

_With leave to serve all men on earth_.

_What gain that lords.h.i.+p's past and done_?

_World's wealth for all and every one_.

[FREEMAN _and_ NUPKINS _come to the front_.

_J. F_. Well, Nupkins, you see you have got the better of us d.a.m.ned Socialists after all. For in times past you used to bully us and send us to prison and hang us, and we had to put up with it; and now you and yours are no longer masters, there _are_ no masters, and there is n.o.body to bully you. How do you like it, old fellow? (_clapping him on the shoulder_.)

_C. N_. (_bursting into tears_). A world without lawyers!--oh, dear! oh, dear! To think that I should have to dig potatoes and see everybody happy!