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the jacket (the star-rover)-第2章

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Well; a beginning。  I was born on a quarter…section in Minnesota。

My mother was the daughter of an immigrant Swede。  Her name was

Hilda Tonnesson。  My father was Chauncey Standing; of old American

stock。  He traced back to Alfred Standing; an indentured servant; or

slave if you please; who was transported from England to the

Virginia plantations in the days that were even old when the

youthful Washington went a…surveying in the Pennsylvania wilderness。



A son of Alfred Standing fought in the War of the Revolution; a

grandson; in the War of 1812。  There have been no wars since in

which the Standings have not been represented。  I; the last of the

Standings; dying soon without issue; fought as a common soldier in

the Philippines; in our latest war; and to do so I resigned; in the

full early ripeness of career; my professorship in the University of

Nebraska。  Good heavens; when I so resigned I was headed for the

Deanship of the College of Agriculture in that universityI; the

star…rover; the red…blooded adventurer; the vagabondish Cain of the

centuries; the militant priest of remotest times; the moon…dreaming

poet of ages forgotten and to…day unrecorded in man's history of

man!



And here I am; my hands dyed red in Murderers' Row; in the State

Prison of Folsom; awaiting the day decreed by the machinery of state

when the servants of the state will lead me away into what they

fondly believe is the darkthe dark they fear; the dark that gives

them fearsome and superstitious fancies; the dark that drives them;

drivelling and yammering; to the altars of their fear…created;

anthropomorphic gods。



No; I shall never be Dean of any college of agriculture。  And yet I

knew agriculture。  It was my profession。  I was born to it; reared

to it; trained to it; and I was a master of it。  It was my genius。

I can pick the high…percentage butter…fat cow with my eye and let

the Babcock Tester prove the wisdom of my eye。  I can look; not at

land; but at landscape; and pronounce the virtues and the

shortcomings of the soil。  Litmus paper is not necessary when I

determine a soil to be acid or alkali。  I repeat; farm…husbandry; in

its highest scientific terms; was my genius; and is my genius。  And

yet the state; which includes all the citizens of the state;

believes that it can blot out this wisdom of mine in the final dark

by means of a rope about my neck and the abruptive jerk of

gravitationthis wisdom of mine that was incubated through the

millenniums; and that was well…hatched ere the farmed fields of Troy

were ever pastured by the flocks of nomad shepherds!



Corn?  Who else knows corn?  There is my demonstration at Wistar;

whereby I increased the annual corn…yield of every county in Iowa by

half a million dollars。  This is history。  Many a farmer; riding in

his motor…car to…day; knows who made possible that motor…car。  Many

a sweet…bosomed girl and bright…browed boy; poring over high…school

text…books; little dreams that I made that higher education possible

by my corn demonstration at Wistar。



And farm management!  I know the waste of superfluous motion without

studying a moving picture record of it; whether it be farm or farm…

hand; the layout of buildings or the layout of the farm…hands'

labour。  There is my handbook and tables on the subject。  Beyond the

shadow of any doubt; at this present moment; a hundred thousand

farmers are knotting their brows over its spread pages ere they tap

out their final pipe and go to bed。  And yet; so far was I beyond my

tables; that all I needed was a mere look at a man to know his

predispositions; his co…ordinations; and the index fraction of his

motion…wastage。



And here I must close this first chapter of my narrative。  It is

nine o'clock; and in Murderers' Row that means lights out。  Even

now; I hear the soft tread of the gum…shoed guard as he comes to

censure me for my coal…oil lamp still burning。  As if the mere

living could censure the doomed to die!







CHAPTER II







I am Darrell Standing。  They are going to take me out and hang me

pretty soon。  In the meantime I say my say; and write in these pages

of the other times and places。



After my sentence; I came to spend the rest of my 〃natural life〃 in

the prison of San Quentin。  I proved incorrigible。  An incorrigible

is a terrible human beingat least such is the connotation of

〃incorrigible〃 in prison psychology。  I became an incorrigible

because I abhorred waste motion。  The prison; like all prisons; was

a scandal and an affront of waste motion。  They put me in the jute…

mill。  The criminality of wastefulness irritated me。  Why should it

not?  Elimination of waste motion was my speciality。  Before the

invention of steam or steam…driven looms three thousand years

before; I had rotted in prison in old Babylon; and; trust me; I

speak the truth when I say that in that ancient day we prisoners

wove more efficiently on hand…looms than did the prisoners in the

steam…powered loom…rooms of San Quentin。



The crime of waste was abhorrent。  I rebelled。  I tried to show the

guards a score or so of more efficient ways。  I was reported。  I was

given the dungeon and the starvation of light and food。  I emerged

and tried to work in the chaos of inefficiency of the loom…rooms。  I

rebelled。  I was given the dungeon; plus the strait…jacket。  I was

spread…eagled; and thumbed…up; and privily beaten by the stupid

guards whose totality of intelligence was only just sufficient to

show them that I was different from them and not so stupid。



Two years of this witless persecution I endured。  It is terrible for

a man to be tied down and gnawed by rats。  The stupid brutes of

guards were rats; and they gnawed the intelligence of me; gnawed all

the fine nerves of the quick of me and of the consciousness of me。

And I; who in my past have been a most valiant fighter; in this

present life was no fighter at all。  I was a farmer; an

agriculturist; a desk…tied professor; a laboratory slave; interested

only in the soil and the increase of the productiveness of the soil。



I fought in the Philippines because it was the tradition of the

Standings to fight。  I had no aptitude for fighting。  It was all too

ridiculous; the introducing of disruptive foreign substances into

the bodies of little black men…folk。  It was laughable to behold

Science prostituting all the might of its achievement and the wit of

its inventors to the violent introducing of foreign substances into

the bodies of black folk。



As I say; in obedience to the tradition of the Standings I went to

war and found that I had no aptitude for war。  So did my officers

find me out; because they made me a quartermaster's clerk; and as a

clerk; at a desk; I fought through the Spanish…American War。



So it was not because I was a fighter; but because I was a thinker;

that I was enraged by the motion…wastage of the loom…rooms and was

persecuted by the guards into becoming an 〃inc
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