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diff --git a/10767-0.txt b/10767-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..48253e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/10767-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,754 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10767 *** + +THE RECTORIAL ADDRESS DELIVERED + +AT ST. ANDREWS UNIVERSITY + +MAY 3rd 1922 + + + + +COURAGE + +BY + +J. M. BARRIE + + + + +HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED +TORONTO + + +To the Red Gowns of St. Andrews + + + +Canada, 1922 + + + + + +You have had many rectors here in St. Andrews who will continue +in bloom long after the lowly ones such as I am are dead and rotten +and forgotten. They are the roses in December; you remember someone +said that God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December. +But I do not envy the great ones. In my experience--and you may find +in the end it is yours also--the people I have cared for most and who +have seemed most worth caring for--my December roses--have been very +simple folk. Yet I wish that for this hour I could swell into someone +of importance, so as to do you credit. I suppose you had a melting +for me because I was hewn out of one of your own quarries, walked +similar academic groves, and have trudged the road on which you will +soon set forth. I would that I could put into your hands a staff +for that somewhat bloody march, for though there is much about myself +that I conceal from other people, to help you I would expose every +cranny of my mind. + +But, alas, when the hour strikes for the Rector to answer to his +call he is unable to become the undergraduate he used to be, and so +the only door into you is closed. We, your elders, are much more +interested in you than you are in us. We are not really important to +you. I have utterly forgotten the address of the Rector of my time, +and even who he was, but I recall vividly climbing up a statue to tie +his colours round its neck and being hurled therefrom with contumely. +We remember the important things. I cannot provide you with that +staff for your journey; but perhaps I can tell you a little about it, +how to use it and lose it and find it again, and cling to it more +than ever. You shall cut it--so it is ordained--every one of you for +himself, and its name is Courage. You must excuse me if I talk a +good deal about courage to you to-day. There is nothing else much +worth speaking about to undergraduates or graduates or white-haired +men and women. It is the lovely virtue--the rib of Himself that God +sent down to His children. + +My special difficulty is that though you have had literary rectors +here before, they were the big guns, the historians, the philosophers; +you have had none, I think, who followed my more humble branch, which +may be described as playing hide and seek with angels. My puppets +seem more real to me than myself, and I could get on much more +swingingly if I made one of them deliver this address. It is +M'Connachie who has brought me to this pass. M'Connachie, I should +explain, as I have undertaken to open the innermost doors, is the name +I give to the unruly half of myself: the writing half. We are +complement and supplement. I am the half that is dour and practical +and canny, he is the fanciful half; my desire is to be the family +solicitor, standing firm on my hearthrug among the harsh realities of +the office furniture; while he prefers to fly around on one wing. I +should not mind him doing that, but he drags me with him. I have +sworn that M'Connachie shall not interfere with this address to-day; +but there is no telling. I might have done things worth while if it +had not been for M'Connachie, and my first piece of advice to you at +any rate shall be sound: don't copy me. A good subject for a +rectorial address would be the mess the Rector himself has made of +life. I merely cast this forth as a suggestion, and leave the working +of it out to my successor. I do not think it has been used yet. + +My own theme is Courage, as you should use it in the great fight that +seems to me to be coming between youth and their betters; by youth, +meaning, of course, you, and by your betters us. I want you to take +up this position: That youth have for too long left exclusively in +our hands the decisions in national matters that are more vital to +them than to us. Things about the next war, for instance, and why +the last one ever had a beginning. I use the word fight because it +must, I think, begin with a challenge; but the aim is the reverse of +antagonism, it is partnership. I want you to hold that the time has +arrived for youth to demand that partnership, and to demand it +courageously. That to gain courage is what you came to St. Andrews +for. With some alarums and excursions into college life. That is +what I propose, but, of course, the issue lies with M'Connachie. + +Your betters had no share in the immediate cause of the war; we know +what nation has that blot to wipe out; but for fifty years or so we +heeded not the rumblings of the distant drum, I do not mean by lack +of military preparations; and when war did come we told youth, who +had to get us out of it, tall tales of what it really is and of the +clover beds to which it leads. + +We were not meaning to deceive, most of us were as honourable and as +ignorant as the youth themselves; but that does not acquit us of +failings such as stupidity and jealousy, the two black spots in +human nature which, more than love of money, are at the root of all +evil. If you prefer to leave things as they are we shall probably +fail you again. Do not be too sure that we have learned our lesson, +and are not at this very moment doddering down some brimstone path. + +I am far from implying that even worse things than war may not come +to a State. There are circumstances in which nothing can so well +become a land, as I think this land proved when the late war did +break out and there was but one thing to do. There is a form of +anaemia that is more rotting than even an unjust war. The end will +indeed have come to our courage and to us when we are afraid in dire +mischance to refer the final appeal to the arbitrament of arms. +I suppose all the lusty of our race, alive and dead, join hands on +that. + + 'And he is dead who will not fight; + And who dies fighting has increase.' + +But if you must be in the struggle, the more reason you should know +why, before it begins, and have a say in the decision whether it is +to begin. The youth who went to the war had no such knowledge, no +such say; I am sure the survivors, of whom there must be a number +here to-day, want you to be wiser than they were, and are certainly +determined to be wiser next time themselves. If you are to get that +partnership, which, once gained, is to be for mutual benefit, it will +be, I should say, by banding yourselves with these men, not defiantly +but firmly, not for selfish ends but for your country's good. In the +meantime they have one bulwark; they have a General who is befriending +them as I think never, after the fighting was over, has a General +befriended his men before. Perhaps the seemly thing would be for us, +their betters, to elect one of these young survivors of the carnage +to be our Rector. He ought now to know a few things about war that +are worth our hearing. If his theme were the Rector's favourite, +diligence. I should be afraid of his advising a great many of us +to be diligent in sitting still and doing no more harm. + +Of course he would put it more suavely than that, though it is not, +I think, by gentleness that you will get your rights; we are dogged +ones at sticking to what we have got, and so will you be at our age. +But avoid calling us ugly names; we may be stubborn and we may be +blunderers, but we love you more than aught else in the world, and +once you have won your partnership we shall all be welcoming you. +I urge you not to use ugly names about anyone. In the war it was +not the fighting men who were distinguished for abuse; as has been +well said, 'Hell hath no fury like a non-combatant.' Never ascribe +to an opponent motives meaner than your own. There may be students +here to-day who have decided this session to go in for immortality, +and would like to know of an easy way of accomplishing it. That is +a way, but not so easy as you think. Go through life without ever +ascribing to your opponents motives meaner than your own. Nothing +so lowers the moral currency; give it up, and be great. + +Another sure way to fame is to know what you mean. It is a solemn +thought that almost no one--if he is truly eminent--knows what he +means. Look at the great ones of the earth, the politicians. We +do not discuss what they say, but what they may have meant when they +said it. In 1922 we are all wondering, and so are they, what they +meant in 1914 and afterwards. They are publishing books trying to +find out; the men of action as well as the men of words. There are +exceptions. It is not that our statesmen are 'sugared mouths with +minds therefrae'; many of them are the best men we have got, upright +and anxious, nothing cheaper than to miscall them. The explanation +seems just to be that it is so difficult to know what you mean, +especially when you have become a swell. No longer apparently can +you deal in 'russet yeas and honest kersey noes'; gone for ever is +simplicity, which is as beautiful as the divine plain face of Lamb's +Miss Kelly. Doubts breed suspicions, a dangerous air. Without +suspicion there might have been no war. When you are called to +Downing Street to discuss what you want of your betters with the +Prime Minister he won't be suspicious, not as far as you can see; +but remember the atmosphere of generations you are in, and when he +passes you the toast-rack say to yourselves, if you would be in the +mode, 'Now, I wonder what he means by that.' + +Even without striking out in the way I suggest, you are already +disturbing your betters considerably. I sometimes talk this over +with M'Connachie, with whom, as you may guess, circumstances compel +me to pass a good deal of my time. In our talks we agree that we, +your betters, constantly find you forgetting that we are your betters. +Your answer is that the war and other happenings have shown you that +age is not necessarily another name for sapience; that our avoidance +of frankness in life and in the arts is often, but not so often as +you think, a cowardly way of shirking unpalatable truths, and that +you have taken us off our pedestals because we look more natural on +the ground. You who are at the rash age even accuse your elders, +sometimes not without justification, of being more rash than +yourselves. 'If Youth but only knew,' we used to teach you to sing; +but now, just because Youth has been to the war, it wants to change +the next line into 'If Age had only to do.' + +In so far as this attitude of yours is merely passive, sullen, +negative, as it mainly is, despairing of our capacity and +anticipating a future of gloom, it is no game for man or woman. +It is certainly the opposite of that for which I plead. Do not +stand aloof, despising, disbelieving, but come in and help--insist +on coming in and helping. After all, we have shown a good deal +of courage; and your part is to add a greater courage to it. +There are glorious years lying ahead of you if you choose to make +them glorious. God's in His Heaven still. So forward, brave +hearts. To what adventures I cannot tell, but I know that your +God is watching to see whether you are adventurous. I know that the +great partnership is only a first step, but I do not know what are +to be the next and the next. The partnership is but a tool; what +are you to do with it? Very little, I warn you, if you are merely +thinking of yourselves; much if what is at the marrow of your +thoughts is a future that even you can scarcely hope to see. + +Learn as a beginning how world-shaking situations arise and how they +may be countered. Doubt all your betters who would deny you that +right of partnership. Begin by doubting all such in high places-- +except, of course, your professors. But doubt all other professors-- +yet not conceitedly, as some do, with their noses in the air; avoid +all such physical risks. If it necessitates your pushing some of us +out of our places, still push; you will find it needs some shoving. +But the things courage can do! The things that even incompetence +can do if it works with singleness of purpose. The war has done at +least one big thing: it has taken spring out of the year. And, this +accomplished, our leading people are amazed to find that the other +seasons are not conducting themselves as usual. The spring of the +year lies buried in the fields of France and elsewhere. By the time +the next eruption comes it may be you who are responsible for it and +your sons who are in the lava. All, perhaps, because this year you +let things slide. + +We are a nice and kindly people, but it is already evident that we +are stealing back into the old grooves, seeking cushions for our old +bones, rather than attempting to build up a fairer future. That is +what we mean when we say that the country is settling down. Make +haste, or you will become like us, with only the thing we proudly +call experience to add to your stock, a poor exchange for the +generous feelings that time will take away. We have no intention +of giving you your share. Look around and see how much share Youth +has now that the war is over. You got a handsome share while it +lasted. + +I expect we shall beat you; unless your fortitude be doubly girded +by a desire to send a message of cheer to your brothers who fell, +the only message, I believe, for which they crave; they are not +worrying about their Aunt Jane. They want to know if you have +learned wisely from what befell them; if you have, they will be +braced in the feeling that they did not die in vain. Some of them +think they did. They will not take our word for it that they did not. +You are their living image; they know you could not lie to them, but +they distrust our flattery and our cunning faces. To us they have +passed away; but are you who stepped into their heritage only +yesterday, whose books are scarcely cold to their hands, you who +still hear their cries being blown across the links--are you +already relegating them to the shades? The gaps they have left +in this University are among the most honourable of her wounds. +But we are not here to acclaim them. Where they are now, hero is, +I think, a very little word. They call to you to find out in time +the truth about this great game, which your elders play for stakes +and Youth plays for its life. + +I do not know whether you are grown a little tired of that word hero, +but I am sure the heroes are. That is the subject of one of our +unfinished plays; M'Connachie is the one who writes the plays. +If any one of you here proposes to be a playwright you can take this +for your own and finish it. The scene is a school, schoolmasters +present, but if you like you could make it a university, professors +present. They are discussing an illuminated scroll about a student +fallen in the war, which they have kindly presented to his parents; +and unexpectedly the parents enter. They are an old pair, backbent, +they have been stalwarts in their day but have now gone small; +they are poor, but not so poor that they could not send their boy +to college. They are in black, not such a rusty black either, +and you may be sure she is the one who knows what to do with his hat. +Their faces are gnarled, I suppose--but I do not need to describe +that pair to Scottish students. They have come to thank the +Senatus for their lovely scroll and to ask them to tear it up. +At first they had been enamoured to read of what a scholar their +son was, how noble and adored by all. But soon a fog settled +over them, for this grand person was not the boy they knew. +He had many a fault well known to them; he was not always so +noble; as a scholar he did no more than scrape through; and he +sometimes made his father rage and his mother grieve. They had +liked to talk such memories as these together, and smile over them, +as if they were bits of him he had left lying about the house. +So thank you kindly, and would you please give them back their boy +by tearing up the scroll? I see nothing else for our dramatist to do. +I think he should ask an alumna of St. Andrews to play the old lady +(indicating Miss Ellen Terry). The loveliest of all young actresses, +the dearest of all old ones; it seems only yesterday that all the men +of imagination proposed to their beloveds in some such frenzied +words as these, 'As I can't get Miss Terry, may I have you?' + +This play might become historical as the opening of your propaganda +in the proposed campaign. How to make a practical advance? +The League of Nations is a very fine thing, but it cannot save you, +because it will be run by us. Beware your betters bringing presents. +What is wanted is something run by yourselves. You have more in +common with the Youth of other lands than Youth and Age can ever +have with each other; even the hostile countries sent out many a +son very like ours, from the same sort of homes, the same sort of +universities, who had as little to do as our youth had with the +origin of the great adventure. Can we doubt that many of these +on both sides who have gone over and were once opponents are now +friends? You ought to have a League of Youth of all countries +as your beginning, ready to say to all Governments, 'We will fight +each other but only when we are sure of the necessity.' Are you +equal to your job, you young men? If not, I call upon the +red-gowned women to lead the way. I sound to myself as if I were +advocating a rebellion, though I am really asking for a larger +friendship. Perhaps I may be arrested on leaving the hall. In such +a cause I should think that I had at last proved myself worthy to be +your Rector. + +You will have to work harder than ever, but possibly not so much +at the same things; more at modern languages certainly if you are +to discuss that League of Youth with the students of other nations +when they come over to St. Andrews for the Conference. I am far from +taking a side against the classics. I should as soon argue against +your having tops to your heads; that way lie the best tops. +Science, too, has at last come to its own in St. Andrews. It is +the surest means of teaching you how to know what you mean when +you say. So you will have to work harder. Isaak Walton quotes the +saying that doubtless the Almighty could have created a finer fruit +than the strawberry, but that doubtless also He never did. Doubtless +also He could have provided us with better fun than hard work, but +I don't know what it is. To be born poor is probably the next best +thing. The greatest glory that has ever come to me was to be +swallowed up in London, not knowing a soul, with no means of +subsistence, and the fun of working till the stars went out. +To have known any one would have spoilt it. I did not even quite +know the language. I rang for my boots, and they thought I said +a glass of water, so I drank the water and worked on. There was +no food in the cupboard, so I did not need to waste time in eating. +The pangs and agonies when no proof came. How courteously tolerant +was I of the postman without a proof for us; how M'Connachie, +on the other hand, wanted to punch his head. The magic days when +our article appeared in an evening paper. The promptitude with +which I counted the lines to see how much we should get for it. +Then M'Connachie's superb air of dropping it into the gutter. +Oh, to be a free lance of journalism again--that darling jade! +Those were days. Too good to last. Let us be grave. Here comes +a Rector. + +But now, on reflection, a dreadful sinking assails me, that this was +not really work. The artistic callings--you remember how Stevenson +thumped them--are merely doing what you are clamorous to be at; +it is not real work unless you would rather be doing something else. +My so-called labours were just M'Connachie running away with me again. +Still, I have sometimes worked; for instance, I feel that I am +working at this moment. And the big guns are in the same plight +as the little ones. Carlyle, the king of all rectors, has always +been accepted as the arch-apostle of toil, and has registered his +many woes. But it will not do. Despite sickness, poortith, want +and all, he was grinding all his life at the one job he revelled in. +An extraordinarily happy man, though there is no direct proof that +he thought so. + +There must be many men in other callings besides the arts lauded +as hard workers who are merely out for enjoyment. Our Chancellor? +(indicating Lord Haig). If our Chancellor has always a passion +to be a soldier, we must reconsider him as a worker. Even our +Principal? How about the light that burns in our Principal's +room after decent people have gone to bed? If we could climb up +and look in--I should like to do something of that kind for the +last time--should we find him engaged in honest toil, or guiltily +engrossed in chemistry? + +You will all fall into one of those two callings, the joyous or the +uncongenial; and one wishes you into the first, though our sympathy, +our esteem, must go rather to the less fortunate, the braver ones +who 'turn their necessity to glorious gain' after they have put away +their dreams. To the others will go the easy prizes of life, +success, which has become a somewhat odious onion nowadays, chiefly +because we so often give the name to the wrong thing. When you +reach the evening of your days you will, I think, see--with, I hope, +becoming cheerfulness--that we are all failures, at least all the +best of us. The greatest Scotsman that ever lived wrote himself +down a failure: + + 'The poor inhabitant below + Was quick to learn and wise to know + And keenly felt the friendly glow + And softer flame. + But thoughtless follies laid him low, + And stained his name.' + +Perhaps the saddest lines in poetry, written by a man who could make +things new for the gods themselves. + +If you want to avoid being like Burns there are several possible ways. +Thus you might copy us, as we shine forth in our published memoirs, +practically without a flaw. No one so obscure nowadays but that he +can have a book about him. Happy the land that can produce such +subjects for the pen. + +But do not put your photograph at all ages into your autobiography. +That may bring you to the ground. 'My Life; and what I have done +with it'; that is the sort of title, but it is the photographs that +give away what you have done with it. Grim things, those portraits; +if you could read the language of them you would often find it +unnecessary to read the book. The face itself, of course, +is still more tell-tale, for it is the record of all one's past +life. There the man stands in the dock, page by page; we ought +to be able to see each chapter of him melting into the next +like the figures in the cinematograph. Even the youngest of you +has got through some chapters already. When you go home for the +next vacation someone is sure to say 'John has changed a little; +I don't quite see in what way, but he has changed.' You remember +they said that last vacation. Perhaps it means that you look less +like your father. Think that out. I could say some nice things +of your betters if I chose. + +In youth you tend to look rather frequently into a mirror, not at +all necessarily from vanity. You say to yourself, 'What an +interesting face; I wonder what he is to be up to?' Your elders +do not look into the mirror so often. We know what he has been +up to. As yet there is unfortunately no science of reading other +people's faces; I think a chair for this should be founded +in St. Andrews. + +The new professor will need to be a sublime philosopher, and for +obvious reasons he ought to wear spectacles before his senior class. +It will be a gloriously optimistic chair, for he can tell his +students the glowing truth, that what their faces are to be like +presently depends mainly on themselves. Mainly, not altogether-- + + 'I am the master of my fate, + I am the captain of my soul.' + +I found the other day an old letter from Henley that told me of the +circumstances in which he wrote that poem. 'I was a patient,' +he writes, 'in the old infirmary of Edinburgh. I had heard vaguely +of Lister, and went there as a sort of forlorn hope on the chance of +saving my foot. The great surgeon received me, as he did and does +everybody, with the greatest kindness, and for twenty months I lay +in one or other ward of the old place under his care. It was a +desperate business, but he saved my foot, and here I am.' There he +was, ladies and gentlemen, and what he was doing during that +'desperate business' was singing that he was master of his fate. + +If you want an example of courage try Henley. Or Stevenson. +I could tell you some stories abut these two, but they would not +be dull enough for a rectorial address. For courage, again, +take Meredith, whose laugh was 'as broad as a thousand beeves at +pasture.' Take, as I think, the greatest figure literature has +still left us, to be added to-day to the roll of St. Andrews' +alumni, though it must be in absence. The pomp and circumstance +of war will pass, and all others now alive may fade from the scene, +but I think the quiet figure of Hardy will live on. + +I seem to be taking all my examples from the calling I was lately +pretending to despise. I should like to read you some passages of a +letter from a man of another calling, which I think will hearten you. +I have the little filmy sheets here. I thought you might like to see +the actual letter; it has been a long journey; it has been to the +South Pole. It is a letter to me from Captain Scott of the +Antarctic, and was written in the tent you know of, where it was +found long afterwards with his body and those of some other very +gallant gentlemen, his comrades. The writing is in pencil, still +quite clear, though toward the end some of the words trail away +as into the great silence that was waiting for them. It begins: + + 'We are pegging out in a very comfortless spot. + Hoping this letter may be found and sent to you, I write + you a word of farewell. I want you to think well of me + and my end.' (After aome private instructions too + intimate to read, he goes on): 'Goodbye--I am not at + all afraid of the end, but sad to miss many a simple + pleasure which I had planned for the future in our long + marches. . . . We are in a desperate state--feet + frozen, etc., no fuel, and a long way from food, but it + would do your heart good to be in our tent, to hear our + songs and our cheery conversation. . . . Later--(it + is here that the words become difficult)--We are very + near the end. . . . We did intend to finish ourselves + when things proved like this, but we have decided to die + naturally without.' + +I think it may uplift you all to stand for a moment by that tent and +listen, as he says, to their songs and cheery conversation. When I +think of Scott I remember the strange Alpine story of the youth who +fell down a glacier and was lost, and of how a scientific companion, +one of several who accompanied him, all young, computed that the +body would again appear at a certain date and place many years +afterwards. When that time came round some of the survivors returned +to the glacier to see if the prediction would be fulfilled; all old +men now; and the body reappeared as young as on the day he left them. +So Scott and his comrades emerge out of the white immensities always +young. + +How comely a thing is affliction borne cheerfully, which is not +beyond the reach of the humblest of us. What is beauty? It is +these hard-bitten men singing courage to you from their tent; +it is the waves of their island home crooning of their deeds to you +who are to follow them. Sometimes beauty boils over and them spirits +are abroad. Ages may pass as we look or listen, for time is +annihilated. There is a very old legend told to me by Nansen the +explorer--I like well to be in the company of explorers--the legend +of a monk who had wandered into the fields and a lark began to sing. +He had never heard a lark before, and he stood there entranced until +the bird and its song had become part of the heavens. Then he went +back to the monastery and found there a doorkeeper whom he did not +know and who did not know him. Other monks came, and they were all +strangers to him. He told them he was Father Anselm, but that was +no help. Finally they looked through the books of the monastery, +and these revealed that there had been a Father Anselm there a +hundred or more years before. Time had been blotted out while +he listened to the lark. + +That, I suppose, was a case of beauty boiling over, or a soul boiling +over; perhaps the same thing. Then spirits walk. + +They must sometimes walk St. Andrews. I do not mean the ghosts +of queens or prelates, but one that keeps step, as soft as snow, +with some poor student. He sometimes catches sight of it. +That is why his fellows can never quite touch him, their best +beloved; he half knows something of which they know nothing--the +secret that is hidden in the face of the Monna Lisa. As I see him, +life is so beautiful to him that its proportions are monstrous. +Perhaps his childhood may have been overfull of gladness; +they don't like that. If the seekers were kind he is the one for +whom the flags of his college would fly one day. But the seeker +I am thinking of is unfriendly, and so our student is 'the lad +that will never be told.' He often gaily forgets, and thinks +he has slain his foe by daring him, like him who, dreading water, +was always the first to leap into it. One can see him serene, +astride a Scotch cliff, singing to the sun the farewell thanks +of a boy: + + 'Throned on a cliff serene Man saw the sun + hold a red torch above the farthest seas, + and the fierce island pinnacles put on + in his defence their sombre panoplies; + Foremost the white mists eddied, trailed and spun + like seekers, emulous to clasp his knees, + till all the beauty of the scene seemed one, + led by the secret whispers of the breeze. + + 'The sun's torch suddenly flashed upon his face + and died; and he sat content in subject night + and dreamed of an old dead foe that had sought + and found him; + a beast stirred bodly in his resting-place; + And the cold came; Man rose to his master-height, + shivered, and turned away; but the mists were + round him.' + +If there is any of you here so rare that the seekers have taken an +ill-will to him, as to the boy who wrote those lines, I ask you to +be careful. Henley says in that poem we were speaking of: + + 'Under the bludgeonings of Chance + My head is bloody but unbowed.' + +A fine mouthful, but perhaps 'My head is bloody and bowed' is better. + +Let us get back to that tent with its songs and cheery conversation. +Courage. I do not think it is to be got by your becoming solemn-sides +before your time. You must have been warned against letting the +golden hours slip by. Yes, but some of them are golden only because +we let them slip. Diligence--ambition; noble words, but only if +'touched to fine issues.' Prizes may be dross, learning lumber, +unless they bring you into the arena with increased understanding. +Hanker not too much after worldly prosperity--that corpulent cigar; if +you became a millionaire you would probably go swimming around for +more like a diseased goldfish. Look to it that what you are doing is +not merely toddling to a competency. Perhaps that must be your fate, +but fight it and then, though you fail, you may still be among the +elect of whom we have spoken. Many a brave man has had to come to it +at last. But there are the complacent toddlers from the start. +Favour them not, ladies, especially now that every one of you carries +a possible marechal's baton under her gown. 'Happy,' it has been said +by a distinguished man, 'is he who can leave college with an +unreproaching conscience and an unsullied heart.' I don't know; he +sounds to me like a sloppy, watery sort of fellow; happy, perhaps, but +if there be red blood in him impossible. Be not disheartened by +ideals of perfection which can be achieved only by those who run away. +Nature, that 'thrifty goddess,' never gave you 'the smallest scruple +of her excellence' for that. Whatever bludgeonings may be gathering +for you, I think one feels more poignantly at your age than ever again +in life. You have not our December roses to help you; but you have +June coming, whose roses do not wonder, as do ours even while they +give us their fragrance--wondering most when they give us most--that +we should linger on an empty scene. It may indeed be monstrous but +possibly courageous. + +Courage is the thing. All goes if courage goes. What says our +glorious Johnson of courage: 'Unless a man has that virtue he has +no security for preserving any other.' We should thank our Creator +three times daily for courage instead of for our bread, which, +if we work, is surely the one thing we have a right to claim of Him. +This courage is a proof of our immortality, greater even than +gardens 'when the eve is cool.' Pray for it. 'Who rises from +prayer a better man, his prayer is answered.' Be not merely +courageous, but light-hearted and gay. There is an officer +who was the first of our Army to land at Gallipoli. He was +dropped overboard to light decoys on the shore, so as to deceive +the Turks as to where the landing was to be. He pushed a raft +containing these in front of him. It was a frosty night, +and he was naked and painted black. Firing from the ships was +going on all around. It was a two-hours' swim in pitch darkness. +He did it, crawled through the scrub to listen to the talk of the +enemy, who were so near that he could have shaken hands with them, +lit his decoys and swam back. He seems to look on this as a gay +affair. He is a V.C. now, and you would not think to look at him +that he could ever have presented such a disreputable appearance. +Would you? (indicating Colonel Freyberg). + +Those men of whom I have been speaking as the kind to fill the fife +could all be light-hearted on occasion. I remember Scott by +Highland streams trying to rouse me by maintaining that haggis +is boiled bagpipes; Henley in dispute as to whether, say, Turgenieff +or Tolstoi could hang the other on his watch-chain; he sometimes +clenched the argument by casting his crutch at you; Stevenson +responded in the same gay spirit by giving that crutch to +John Silver; you remember with what adequate results. You must +cultivate this light-heartedness if you are to hang your +betters on your watch-chains. Dr. Johnson--let us have him again-- +does not seem to have discovered in his travels that the Scots +are a light-hearted nation. Boswell took him to task for saying +that the death of Garrick had eclipsed the gaiety of nations. +'Well, sir,' Johnson said, 'there may be occasions when it is +permissible to,' etc. But Boswell would not let go. 'I cannot +see, sir, how it could in any case have eclipsed the gaiety of +nations, as England was the only nation before whom he had ever +played.' Johnson was really stymied, but you would never have +known it. 'Well, sir,' he said, holing out, 'I understand +that Garrick once played in Scotland, and if Scotland has any +gaiety to eclipse, which, sir, I deny----' + +Prove Johnson wrong for once at the Students' Union and in your +other societies. I much regret that there was no Students' Union +at Edinburgh in my time. I hope you are fairly noisy and that +members are sometimes let out. Do you keep to the old topics? +King Charles's head; and Bacon wrote Shakespeare, or if he did +not he missed the opportunity of his life. Don't forget to speak +scornfully of the Victorian age; there will be time for meekness +when you try to better it. Very soon you will be Victorian or that +sort of thing yourselves; next session probably, when the freshmen +come up. Afterwards, if you go in for my sort of calling, don't +begin by thinking you are the last word in art; quite possibly you +are not; steady yourself by remembering that there were great men +before William K. Smith. Make merry while you may. Yet +light-heartedness is not for ever and a day. At its best it is +the gay companion of innocence; and when innocence goes-- +as it must go--they soon trip off together, looking for something +younger. But courage comes all the way: + + 'Fight on, my men, says Sir Andrew Barton, + I am hurt, but I am not slaine; + I'll lie me down and bleed a-while, + And then I'll rise and fight againe.' + +Another piece of advice; almost my last. For reasons you may guess +I must give this in a low voice. Beware of M'Connachie. When I +look in a mirror now it is his face I see. I speak with his voice. +I once had a voice of my own, but nowadays I hear it from far away +only, a melancholy, lonely, lost little pipe. I wanted to be an +explorer, but he willed otherwise. You will all have your +M'Connachies luring you off the high road. Unless you are +constantly on the watch, you will find that he has slowly pushed +you out of yourself and taken your place. He has rather done +for me. I think in his youth he must somehow have guessed the +future and been fleggit by it, flichtered from the nest like a +bird, and so our eggs were left, cold. He has clung to me, less +from mischief than for companionship; I half like him and his penny +whistle; with all his faults he is as Scotch as peat; he whispered +to me just now that you elected him, not me, as your Rector. + +A final passing thought. Were an old student given an hour in +which to revisit the St. Andrews of his day, would he spend more +than half of it at lectures? He is more likely to be heard +clattering up bare stairs in search of old companions. But if you +could choose your hour from all the five hundred years of this seat +of learning, wandering at your will from one age to another, how +would you spend it? A fascinating theme; so many notable shades +at once astir that St. Leonard's and St. Mary's grow murky with them. +Hamilton, Melville, Sharpe, Chalmers, down to Herkless, that +distinguished Principal, ripe scholar and warm friend, +the loss of whom I deeply deplore with you. I think if that hour +were mine, and though at St. Andrews he was but a passer-by, +I would give a handsome part of it to a walk with Doctor Johnson. +I should like to have the time of day passed to me in twelve +languages by the Admirable Crichton. A wave of the hand to +Andrew Lang; and then for the archery butts with the gay Montrose, +all a-ruffled and ringed, and in the gallant St. Andrews student +manner, continued as I understand to this present day, scattering +largess as he rides along, + + 'But where is now the courtly troupe + That once went riding by? + I miss the curls of Canteloupe, + The laugh of Lady Di.' + +We have still left time for a visit to a house in South Street, +hard by St. Leonard's. I do not mean the house you mean. I am +a Knox man. But little will that avail, for M'Connachie is a +Queen Mary man. So, after all, it is at her door we chap, a last +futile effort to bring that woman to heel. One more house of call, +a student's room, also in South Street. I have chosen my student, +you see, and I have chosen well; him that sang-- + + 'Life has not since been wholly vain, + And now I bear + Of wisdom plucked from joy and pain + Some slender share. + + 'But howsoever rich the store, + I'd lay it down + To feel upon my back once more + The old red gown.' + +Well, we have at last come to an end. Some of you may remember +when I began this address; we are all older now. I thank you for +your patience. This is my first and last public appearance, +and I never could or would have made it except to a gathering +of Scottish students. If I have concealed my emotions in addressing +you it is only the thrawn national way that deceives everybody +except Scotsmen. I have not been as dull as I could have wished +to be; but looking at your glowing faces cheerfulness and hope would +keep breaking through. Despite the imperfections of your betters we +leave you a great inheritance, for which others will one day call +you to account. You come of a race of men the very wind of whose +name has swept to the ultimate seas. Remember-- + + 'Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, + Not light them for themselves. . . .' + +Mighty are the Universities of Scotland, and they will prevail. +But even in your highest exultations never forget that they are +not four, but five. The greatest of them is the poor, proud +homes you come out of, which said so long ago: 'There shall be +education in this land.' She, not St. Andrews, is the oldest +University in Scotland, and all the others are her whelps. + +In bidding you good-bye, my last words must be of the lovely +virtue. Courage, my children and 'greet the unseen with a cheer.' +'Fight on, my men,' said Sir Andrew Barton. Fight on--you-- +for the old red gown till the whistle blows. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Courage, by J. M. Barrie + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10767 *** |