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Page 30
CUSINS. A father's love for a grown-up daughter is the most
dangerous of all infatuations. I apologize for mentioning my own
pale, coy, mistrustful fancy in the same breath with it.
UNDERSHAFT. Keep to the point. We have to win her; and we are
neither of us Methodists.
CUSINS. That doesn't matter. The power Barbara wields here--the
power that wields Barbara herself--is not Calvinism, not
Presbyterianism, not Methodism--
UNDERSHAFT. Not Greek Paganism either, eh?
CUSINS. I admit that. Barbara is quite original in her religion.
UNDERSHAFT [triumphantly] Aha! Barbara Undershaft would be. Her
inspiration comes from within herself.
CUSINS. How do you suppose it got there?
UNDERSHAFT [in towering excitement] It is the Undershaft
inheritance. I shall hand on my torch to my daughter. She shall
make my converts and preach my gospel
CUSINS. What! Money and gunpowder!
UNDERSHAFT. Yes, money and gunpowder; freedom and power; command
of life and command of death.
CUSINS [urbanely: trying to bring him down to earth] This is
extremely interesting, Mr Undershaft. Of course you know that you
are mad.
UNDERSHAFT [with redoubled force] And you?
CUSINS. Oh, mad as a hatter. You are welcome to my secret since I
have discovered yours. But I am astonished. Can a madman make
cannons?
UNDERSHAFT. Would anyone else than a madman make them? And now
[with surging energy] question for question. Can a sane man
translate Euripides?
CUSINS. No.
UNDERSHAFT [reining him by the shoulder] Can a sane woman make a
man of a waster or a woman of a worm?
CUSINS [reeling before the storm] Father Colossus--Mammoth
Millionaire--
UNDERSHAFT [pressing him] Are there two mad people or three in
this Salvation shelter to-day?
CUSINS. You mean Barbara is as mad as we are!
UNDERSHAFT [pushing him lightly off and resuming his equanimity
suddenly and completely] Pooh, Professor! let us call things by
their proper names. I am a millionaire; you are a poet; Barbara
is a savior of souls. What have we three to do with the common
mob of slaves and idolaters? [He sits down again with a shrug of
contempt for the mob].
CUSINS. Take care! Barbara is in love with the common people. So
am I. Have you never felt the romance of that love?
UNDERSHAFT [cold and sardonic] Have you ever been in love with
Poverty, like St Francis? Have you ever been in love with Dirt,
like St Simeon? Have you ever been in love with disease and
suffering, like our nurses and philanthropists? Such passions are
not virtues, but the most unnatural of all the vices. This love
of the common people may please an earl's granddaughter and a
university professor; but I have been a common man and a poor
man; and it has no romance for me. Leave it to the poor to
pretend that poverty is a blessing: leave it to the coward to
make a religion of his cowardice by preaching humility: we know
better than that. We three must stand together above the common
people: how else can we help their children to climb up beside
us? Barbara must belong to us, not to the Salvation Army.
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