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diff --git a/42105-0.txt b/42105-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e38016 --- /dev/null +++ b/42105-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5568 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42105 *** + +Original scans are taken from: http://archive.org/details/facesinfireother00boreiala + + + + + + + + + +FACES IN THE FIRE + + + + + FACES IN THE FIRE + and + OTHER FANCIES + + + BY F. W. BOREHAM + + + AUTHOR OF 'THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HILL,' 'THE SILVER SHADOW,' + 'MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR,' 'THE GOLDEN MILESTONE,' 'MOUNTAINS + IN THE MIST,' 'THE LUGGAGE OF LIFE,' ETC., ETC. + + + + + THE ABINGDON PRESS + NEW YORK CINCINNATI + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + + CHAP. PAGE + + I. THE BABY AMONG THE BOMBSHELLS 13 + + II. STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM 24 + + III. THE CONQUEST OF THE CRAGS 36 + + IV. LINOLEUM 46 + + V. THE EDITOR 57 + + VI. THE PEACEMAKER 68 + + VII. NOTHING 79 + + VIII. THE ANGEL AND THE IRON GATE 89 + + IX. SHORT CUTS 98 + + +PART II + + I. THE POSTMAN 113 + + II. CRYING FOR THE MOON 123 + + III. OUR LOST ROMANCES 134 + + IV. A FORBIDDEN DISH 144 + + V. AN OLD MAID'S DIARY 153 + + VI. THE RIVER 163 + + VII. FACES IN THE FIRE 172 + + VIII. THE MENACE OF THE SUNLIT HILL 184 + + IX. AMONG THE ICEBERGS 196 + + +PART III + + I. A BOX OF TIN SOLDIERS 207 + + II. LOVE, MUSIC, AND SALAD 216 + + III. THE FELLING OF THE TREE 227 + + IV. SPOIL! 237 + + V. A PHILOSOPHY OF FANCY-WORK 247 + + VI. A PAIR OF BOOTS 256 + + VII. CHRISTMAS BELLS 265 + + + + +BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION + + +It was a chilling experience, that first glimpse of New Zealand! Hour +after hour the great ship held on her way up the Cook Straits amidst +scenery that made me shudder and that scowled me out of countenance. +Rugged, massive, inhospitable, and bare, how sternly those wild and +mountainous landscapes contrasted with the quiet beauty that I had +surveyed from the same decks as the ship had dropped down Channel! I +shaded my eyes with my hands and swept the strange horizon at every +point, but nowhere could I see a sign of habitation--no man; no beast; +no sheltering roof; no winding road; no welcoming column of smoke! And +when, in the twilight of that still autumn evening, I at length +descended the gangway, and set foot for the first time on the land of my +adoption, I found myself--twelve thousand miles from home--in a country +in which not a soul knew me, and in which I knew no single soul. It was +not an exhilarating sensation. + +That was on March 11, 1895--twenty-one years ago to-night. Those +one-and-twenty years have been almost evenly divided between the old +manse at Mosgiel, in New Zealand, and my present Tasmanian home. As I +sit here, and let my memory play among the years, I smile at the odd way +in which these southern lands have belied that first austere impression. +In my fire to-night I see such crowds of faces--the faces of those with +whom I have laughed and cried, and camped and played, and worked and +worshipped in the course of these one-and-twenty years. There are +fancy-faces, too; the folk of other latitudes; the faces I have never +seen; the friends my pen has brought me. I cannot write to all to-night; +so I set aside this book as a memento of the times we have spent +together. If, by good hap, it reaches any of them, let them regard it as +a shake of the hand for the sake of auld lang syne. And if, in addition +to cementing old friendships, it creates new ones, how doubly happy I +shall be! + + FRANK W. BOREHAM. + + Hobart, Tasmania. + + + + +PART I + + + + +I + +THE BABY AMONG THE BOMBSHELLS + + +Everything depends on keeping up the supply of bombshells. It will be a +sad day for us all when there are no more bombs to burst, no more shocks +to be sustained, no more sensations to be experienced, no more thrills +to be enjoyed. Fancy being condemned to reside in a world that is +bankrupt of astonishments, a world that no longer has it in its power to +startle you, a world that has nothing up its sleeve! It would be like +occupying a seat at a conjuring entertainment at which the conjurer had +exhausted all his tricks, but did not like to tell you so! When I was a +small boy I used to be mildly amused by the antics of a performing bear +that occasionally visited our locality. A sickly-looking foreigner led +the poor brute by a string. Its claws were cut, and its teeth drawn. By +dint of a few kicks and cuffs it was persuaded to dance a melancholy +kind of jig, and then shamble round with a basket in search of a few +half-pence. I remember distinctly that, as I watched the unhappy +creature's dismal performance, I tried to imagine what the animal would +have looked like had no cruel captor removed him from his native lair. +The mental contrast was a very painful one. Yet it was not half so +painful as the contrast between the world as it is and a world that had +run out of bombshells. A world that could no longer surprise us would be +a world with its claws cut and its teeth drawn. Half the fun of waking +up in the morning is the feeling that you have come upon a day that is +brand new, a day that the world has never seen before, a day that is +certain to do things that no other day has ever done. Half the pleasure +of welcoming a new-born baby is the absolute certainty that here you +have a packet of amazing surprises. An individuality is here; a thing +that never was before; you cannot argue from any other child to this +one; the only thing that you can predict with confidence about this +child is that it will do things that were never done, or never done in +the same way, since this old world of ours began. Here is novelty, +originality, an infinity of bewildering possibility. Each mother thinks +that there never was a baby like her baby; and most certainly there +never was. As long as the stock of days keeps up, and as long as the +supply of babies does not peter out, there will be no lack of +bombshells. I visited the other day the ruins of an old prison. I saw +among other things the dark cells in which, in the bad old days, +prisoners languished in solitary confinement. Charles Reade and other +writers have told us how, in those black holes, convicts adopted all +kinds of ingenious expedients to secure themselves against losing their +reason in the desolate darkness. They tossed buttons about and groped +after them; they tore up their clothes and counted the pieces; they did +a thousand other things, and went mad in spite of all their pains. Now +what is this horror of the darkness? Let us analyse it. Wherein does it +differ from blindness? Why did insanity overtake these solitary men? The +horror of the darkness was not fear. A child dreads the dark because he +thinks that wolves and hobgoblins infest it. But these men had no such +terrors. The thing that unbalanced them was the maddening monotony of +the darkness. Nothing happened. In the light something happens every +second. A thousand impressions are made upon the mind in the course of +every minute. Each sensation, though it be of no more importance than +the buzz of a fly at the window-pane, the flutter of a paper to the +floor, or the sound of a footfall on the street, represents a surprise. +It is a mental jolt. It transfers the attention from one object to an +entirely different one. We pass in less than a second from the buzz of +the fly to the flutter of the paper, and again from the flutter of the +paper to the sound of the footfall. Any man who could count the separate +objects that occupied his attention in the course of a single moment +would be astonished at their variety and multiplicity. But in the dark +cell there are no sensations. The eye cannot see; the ear cannot hear. +Not one of the senses is appealed to. The mind is accustomed to flit +from sensation to sensation like a butterfly flitting from flower to +flower, but infinitely faster. But in this dark cell it languishes like +a captive butterfly in a cardboard box. If you hold me under water I +shall die, because my lungs can no longer do the work they have always +been accustomed to do. In the dark cell the mind finds itself in the +same predicament. It is drowned in inky air. The mind lives on +sensations; but here there are no sensations. And if the world gets +shorn of its surprise-power, it will become a maddening place to live +in. We only exist by being continually startled. We are kept alive by +the everlasting bursting of bombshells. + +I am not so much concerned, however, with the ability of the world to +afford us a continuous series of thrills as with my own capacity to be +surprised. The tendency is to lose the power of astonishment. I am told +that, in battle, the moment in which a man finds himself for the first +time under fire is a truly terrifying experience. But after awhile the +new-comer settles down to it, and, with shells bursting all around him, +he goes about his tasks as calmly as on parade. This idiosyncrasy of +ours may be a very fine thing under such circumstances, but under other +conditions it has the gravest elements of danger. As I sit here writing, +a baby crawls upon the floor. It is good fun watching him. He plays with +the paper band that fell from a packet of envelopes. He puts it round +his wrist like a bracelet. He tears it, and lo, the bracelet of a moment +ago is a long ribbon of coloured paper. He is astounded. His wide-open +eyes are a picture. The telephone rings. He looks up with approval. +Anything that rings or rattles is very much to his taste. I go over to +his new-found toy, and begin talking to it. He is dumbfounded. My +altercation with the telephone completely bewilders him. Whilst I am +thus occupied, he moves towards my vacant chair. He tries to pull +himself up by it, but pulls it over on to himself. The savagery of the +thing appals him; he never dreamed of an attack from such a source. In +what a world of wonder is he living! Bombs are bursting all around him +all day long. A baby's life must be a thrillingly sensational affair. + +But the pity of it is that he will grow out of it. He may be surrounded +with the most amazing contrivances on every hand, but the wonder of it +will make little or no appeal to him. He will be like the soldier in the +trenches who no longer notices the roar and crash of the shells. When +Livingstone set out for England in 1856, he determined to take with him +Sekwebu, the leader of his African escort. But when the party reached +Mauritius, the poor African was so bewildered by the steamers and other +marvels of civilization that he went mad, threw himself into the sea, +and was seen no more. I only wish that an artist had sketched the scene +upon which poor Sekwebu gazed so nervously as he stood on the deck of +the _Frolic_ that day sixty years ago. I suspect that the 'marvels of +civilization' that so terrified him would appear to us to be very +ramshackle and antiquated affairs. We lie back in our sumptuous +motor-cars and yawn whilst surrounded on every hand with astonishments +compared with which the things that Sekwebu saw are not worthy to be +compared. That is the tragic feature of the thing. In the midst of +marvels we tend to become blasé. It is not that we are occupying a seat +at a conjuring entertainment at which the conjurer has exhausted all his +tricks, and does not like to tell you so. On the contrary, it is like +occupying a seat at a conjuring entertainment and falling fast asleep +just as the performer is getting to his most baffling and masterly +achievements. I like to watch this baby of mine among his bombshells. +The least thing electrifies him. What a sensational world this would be +if I could only contrive to retain unspoiled that childish capacity for +wonder! + +I shall be told that it is the baby's ignorance that makes him so +susceptible to sensation. It is nothing of the kind. Ignorance does not +create wonder; it destroys it. I walked along a track through the bush +one day in company with two men. One was a naturalist; the other was an +ignoramus. Twenty times at least the naturalist swooped down upon some +curious grass, some novel fern, or some rare orchid. The walk that +morning was, to his knowing eyes, as sensational as a hair-raising film +at a cinematograph. But to my other companion it was absolutely +uneventful, and the only thing at which he wondered was the enthusiasm +of our common friend. When Alfred Russel Wallace was gathering in South +America his historic collection of botanical and zoological specimens, +the natives of the Amazon Valley thought him mad. He paid them +handsomely to catch creatures for which they could discover no use at +all. To him the great forests of Bolivia and Brazil were alive with +sensation. They fascinated and enthralled him. But the black men could +not understand it. They saw no reason for his rapture. Yet his wonder +was not the outcome of ignorance; it was the outcome of knowledge. +Depend upon it, the more I learn, the more sensational the world will +become. If I can only become wise enough I may recapture the glorious +amazements of the baby among his bombshells. + +Now let me come to a very practical application. Half the art of life +lies in possessing effective explosives and in knowing how to use them. +In the best of his books, Jack London tells us that the secret of White +Fang's success in fighting other dogs was his power of surprise. 'When +dogs fight there are usually preliminaries--snarlings and bristlings, +and stiff-legged struttings. But White Fang omitted these. He gave no +warning of his intention. He rushed in and snapped and slashed on the +instant, without notice, before his foe could prepare to meet him. Thus +he exhibited the value of surprise. A dog taken off its guard, its +shoulder slashed open, or its ear ripped in ribbons before it knew what +was happening, was a dog half whipped.' Here is the strategy of surprise +in the wild. Has it nothing to teach me? I think it has. I remember +going for a walk one evening in New Zealand, many years ago, with a +minister whose name was at one time famous throughout the world. I was +just beginning then, and was hungry for ideas. I shall never forget +that, towards the close of our conversation, my companion stopped, +looked me full in the face, and exclaimed with tremendous emphasis, +'Keep up your surprise-power, my dear fellow; the pulpit must never, +never lose its power of startling people!' I have very often since +recalled that memorable walk; and the farther I leave the episode across +the years behind me the more the truth of that fine saying gains upon my +heart. + +Let me suggest a really great question. Is it enough for a preacher to +preach the truth? In a place where I was quite unknown, I turned into a +church one day and enjoyed the rare luxury of hearing another man +preach. But, much as I appreciated the experience, I found, when I came +out, that the preacher had started a rather curious line of thought. He +was a very gracious man; it was a genuine pleasure to have seen and +heard him. And yet there seemed to be a something lacking. The sermon +was absolutely without surprise. Every sentence was splendidly true, and +yet not a single sentence startled me. There was no sting in it. I +seemed to have heard it all over and over and over again; I could even +see what was coming. Surely it is the preacher's duty to give the truth +such a setting, and present it in such a way, that the oldest truths +will appear newer than the latest sensations. He must arouse me from my +torpor; he must compel me to open my eyes and pull myself together; he +must make me sit up and think. 'Keep up your surprise-power, my dear +fellow,' said my companion that evening in the bush, speaking out of his +long and rich experience. + +'The pulpit,' he said, 'must never, never lose its power of startling +people!' The preacher, that is to say, must keep up his stock of +explosives. The Bishop of London declared the other day that the Church +is suffering from too much 'dearly beloved brethren.' She would be +better judiciously to mix it with a few bombshells. + +And yet, after all, I suppose it was largely my own fault that the +sermon of which I have spoken seemed to me to be so ineffective. There +are tremendous astonishments in the Christian evangel which, however +baldly stated, should fire my sluggish soul with wonder, and fill it +with amazement. The fact that I listened so blandly shows that I have +become blasé. I am like the soldier in the trenches who no longer +notices the bursting shells about him. I am like the auditor who +occupies a seat at the conjuring entertainment, but has fallen asleep +just as the thing is getting sensational. + +In one of his latest books, Harold Begbie gives us a fine picture of +John Wyclif reading from his own translation of the Bible to those who +had never before listened to those stately and wonderful cadences. The +hearers look at each other with wide-open eyes, and are almost +incredulous in their astonishment. Every sentence is a sensation. They +can scarcely believe their ears. They are like the baby on the floor. +The simplicities startle them. If only I can renew the romance of my +childhood, and recapture that early sense of wonder, the world will +suddenly become as marvellous as the prince's palace in the fairy +stories, and the ministry of the Church will become life's most +sensational sensation. + + + + +II + +STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM + + +Strawberries are delicious, as every one knows. 'It may be,' says Dr. +Boteler, a quaint old English writer, 'it may be that God could make a +better berry than a strawberry, but most certainly He never did.' Yes, +strawberries are delicious; but I am not going to write about +strawberries. Cream is also very nice, very nice indeed; but nothing +shall induce me to write about cream. I have promised myself a chapter, +neither on _strawberries_ nor on _cream_, but on _strawberries and +cream_. The distinction, as I shall endeavour to show, is a vitally +important one. Now the theme was suggested on this wise. I was walking +through the city this afternoon, when I met a gentleman from whom, only +this morning, I received an important letter. We shook hands, and were +just plunging into the subject-matter of his letter when a tall +policeman reminded us of the illegality of loitering on the pavement. +Yet it was too hot to walk about. + +'Come in here,' my companion suggested, pointing to a café near by, +'and have a cup of afternoon tea.' + +'No, thank you,' I replied, 'I had a cup not long ago.' + +'Well, strawberries and cream, then?' + +The temptation was too strong for me; he had touched a vulnerable point; +and I succumbed. The afternoon was very oppressive; the restaurant +looked invitingly cool; a quiet corner among the ferns seemed to beckon +us; and the strawberries and cream, daintily served, soon completed our +felicity. + +Strawberries and cream! It is an odd conjunction when you come to think +of it. The gardener goes off to his well-kept beds and brings back a big +basket, lined with cabbage leaves, and filled to the brim with fine +fresh strawberries. The maid slips off to the dairy and returns with a +jug of rich and foamy cream. To what different realms they belong! The +gardener lives, moves, and has his being in one world; the milkmaid +spends her life in quite another. The cream belongs to the animal +kingdom; the strawberries to the vegetable kingdom. But here, on these +pretty little plates in the fern-grot are the gardener's world and the +milkmaid's world beautifully blended. Here, on the table before us, are +the animal and the vegetable kingdom perfectly supplementing and +completing each other. It is another phase of the wonder which +suggested the nursery rhyme: + + Flour of England, fruit of Spain, + Met together in a shower of rain. + +Empires confront each other within the compass of a plum-pudding; +continents salute each other in a tea-cup; the great subdivisions of the +universe greet each other in a plate of strawberries and cream. What +_ententes_, and _rapprochements_, and international conferences take +place every day among the plates and dishes that adorn our tables! + +It is a thousand pities that we have no authentic record of the +discoverer of strawberries and cream. For ages the world enjoyed its +strawberries, and for ages the world enjoyed its cream. But strawberries +and cream was an unheard-of mixture. Then there dawned one of the great +days of this planet's little story, a day that ought to have been +carefully recorded and annually commemorated. History, as it is written, +betrays a sad lack of perspective. It has no true sense of proportion. +There came a fateful day on which some audacious dietetic adventurer +took the cream that had been brought from his dairy, poured it on the +strawberries that had been plucked from his garden, and discovered with +delight that the whole was greater than the sum of all its parts. Yet +of that memorable day the historian takes no notice. With the amours of +kings, the intrigues of courts, and the squabbles of statesmen he has +filled countless pages; yet only in very rare instances have these +things contributed to the sum of human happiness anything comparable to +the pleasures afforded by strawberries and cream. We have never done +justice to the intellectual prowess of the men who first tried some of +the mixtures that are to us a matter of course. Salt and potatoes, for +example. I heard the other day of a little girl who defined salt as +'that which makes potatoes very nasty if you have none of it with them.' +It is not a bad definition. But, surely, something is due to the memory +of the man who discovered that the insipidity might be removed, and the +potato be made a staple article of diet, by the simple addition of a +pinch of salt! Then, too, there are the men who found out that +horseradish is the thing to eat with roast beef; that apple sauce lends +an added charm to a joint of pork; that red currant jelly enhances the +flavour of jugged hare; that mint sauce blends beautifully with lamb; +that boiled mutton is all the better for caper sauce; and that butter is +the natural corollary of bread. 'The man of superior intellect,' says +Tennyson, in vindication of his weakness for boiled beef and new +potatoes, 'knows what is good to eat.' And George Gissing in a +reference to these selfsame new potatoes, adds a corroborative word. +'Our cook,' he says, 'when dressing these new potatoes, puts into the +saucepan a sprig of mint. This is genius. Not otherwise could the +flavour of the vegetable be so perfectly, yet so delicately, emphasized. +The mint is there, and we know it; yet our palate knows only the young +potato.' There have been thousands of statues erected to the memory of +men who have done far less to promote the happiness of mankind than did +any of these. Every great invention is preceded by thousands and +thousands of fruitless attempts. Think of the nauseous conglomerations +that must have been tried and tasted, not without a shudder, before +these happy combinations were at length launched upon the world. Think +of the jeers of derision that greeted the first announcement of these +preposterous concoctions! Imagine the guffaws when a man told his +companions that he had been eating red currant jelly with jugged hare! +Imagine the nameless dietetic atrocities that that ingenious epicure +must have perpetrated before he hit upon his ultimate triumph! I have +not the initiative to attempt it. I lack the splendid daring of the +pioneer. In a thousand years' time men will smack their lips over all +kinds of mixtures of which I should shudder to hear. I am content to go +on eating this by itself and that by itself, just as for ages men were +content to eat strawberries by themselves and cream by itself, never +dreaming that this thing and that thing as much belong to each other as +do strawberries and cream. + +Now this genius for mixing things is one of the hall-marks of our +humanity. Strawberry leaves are part of the crest of a duchess; but +strawberries and cream might be regarded as a suitable crest for the +race. Man is an animal, but he is more than an animal; and he proves his +superiority by mixing things. His poorer relatives of the brute creation +never do it. They eat strawberries, and they are fond of cream; but it +would never have occurred to any one of them to mix the strawberries +with the cream. An animal, even the most intelligent and domesticated +animal, will eat one thing and then he will eat another thing; but the +idea of mixing the first thing with the second thing before eating +either never enters into his comprehension. + +The strawberries and cream represent, therefore, in a pleasant and +attractive way, our human genius for mixing things. There is nothing +surprising about it. Indeed, it is eminently fitting and characteristic. +For we are ourselves such extraordinary medlies. Let any man think his +way back across the ages, and mark the ingredients that have woven +themselves into his make-up, and he will not be surprised at the +extraordinary miscellany of passions that he sometimes discovers within +the recesses of his own soul. 'I remember,' Rudyard Kipling makes the +Thames to say: + + ... I remember, like yesterday, + The earliest Cockney who came my way, + When he pushed through the forest that lined the Strand, + With paint on his face and a club in his hand. + He was death to feather and fin and fur, + He trapped my beavers at Westminster, + He netted my salmon, he hunted my deer, + He killed my herons off Lambeth Pier; + He fought his neighbour with axes and swords, + Flint or bronze, at my upper fords, + While down at Greenwich for slaves and tin + The tall Phoenician ships stole in. + +Men of the island caves mixed their blood with men of the great +continental forests. It was an extraordinary agglomeration. + + Norseman and Negro and Gaul and Greek + Drank with the Britons in Barking Creek, + And the Romans came with a heavy hand, + And bridged and roaded and ruled the land, + And the Roman left and the Danes blew in-- + And that's where your history books begin! + +Is it any wonder that sometimes I feel, mingling with the emotions +inspired by a recent communion service, the savagery of some +long-forgotten caveman ancestor? Civilization is so very young, and +barbarism was so very old, that it is not surprising that I occasionally +hark back involuntarily to the days to which my blood was most +accustomed. I am an odd mixture considered from any point of view. +'There are very few human actions,' says Mark Rutherford, 'of which it +can be said that this or that, taken by itself, produced them. With our +inborn tendency to abstract, to separate mentally the concrete into +factors which do not exist separately, we are always disposed to assign +causes which are too simple. Nothing in nature is propelled or impeded +by one force acting alone. There is no such thing, save in the brain of +the mathematician. I see no reason why even motives diametrically +opposite should not unite in one resulting deed.' Of course not! It is +my duty, that is to say, to take myself to pieces as little as possible. +It does not really matter how much of my present temperament I got from +the communion service, and how much I got from the caveman with the club +in his hand. Here I am, a present entity, with the caveman, the +tribesman, the Roman, and the Dane all mixed up together in me; and it +is my business, instead of taking the complex mechanism to pieces, to +make it, as a united and harmonious whole, do the work for which I have +been sent into the world. I am not to talk one moment of the +strawberries on my plate, and then, in the next breath, to speak of the +cream. It is not so much a matter of strawberries _and_ cream as of +_strawberriesandcream_. + +There is, I fancy, a good deal in that. We are too fond of taking the +cream from the strawberries, and the strawberries from the cream. I have +on my plate here, not two things, but one thing; and that one thing is +_strawberriesandcream_. One of the oldest and one of the silliest +mistakes that men have made is their everlasting inclination to divide +_strawberries-and-cream_ into strawberries _and_ cream. Think of the +toothless chatter concerning the sexes. Have men or women done most for +the world? Is the husband or is the wife most essential to the home? It +will be quite time enough to attempt to answer such ridiculous questions +when the waitresses at the restaurants begin to ask us whether we will +have strawberries _or_ cream! In the beginning, we are told, God created +man in His own image, male and female created He them. It is not so much +a matter of male _and_ female: it is _maleandfemale_, just as it is +_strawberriesandcream_. The thing takes other forms. Which do you +prefer--summer or winter? As though we should appreciate summer if we +never had a winter, or winter if we never had a summer! Is song or +speech the most effective evangelistic agency? As though there would be +anything to sing about if the gospel had never been preached! Or +anything worth preaching if the gospel had never set anybody singing! It +is so very ridiculous to try to separate the strawberries from the +cream. Miss Rosaline Masson, in commenting upon Wordsworth's beautiful +sonnet on Westminster Bridge, says that it is the outcome of Dorothy +Wordsworth's divine power of perception and her brother's divine power +of expression. But who would dare to take the sonnet to pieces and say +how much is Dorothy's, and how much is William's? It is Dorothy's and +William's. It is strawberries and cream. + +I always feel extremely sorry for the man who tries to move a vote of +thanks at the close of a pleasant and successful function. Not for +worlds could I be persuaded to attempt it. It is a most difficult and +complicated business, and I should collapse utterly. It consists in +taking the whole performance to pieces and allocating the praise. So +much for the decorators; so much for the singers; so much for the +elocutionists; so much for the speakers; so much for the chairman; so +much for the pianist; so much for the secretary; and so on. To me it +would be like furnishing a statistical table on leaving the restaurant +showing how much of my enjoyment I owed to the strawberries and how much +to the cream. Dissection is not in my line. I only know that I +thoroughly enjoyed the _strawberriesandcream_. + +In selecting strawberries and cream as emblems of the mixed things of +life, I fancy that my choice is a particularly happy one. That cream +must be mixed with other foods goes without saying; and in Shakespeare's +most notable reference to strawberries it is the same peculiarity that +seems to have impressed him. He has a very pleasing allusion to the +facility with which the strawberry mixes with other things. The passage +occurs at the beginning of _King Henry the Fifth_. The Archbishop of +Canterbury and the Bishop of Ely are discussing the new king. They are +astonished at the change which has overtaken him since his accession. As +a prince he was wild and dissolute, and broke his father's heart. But, +as soon as he became king, he instantly sent for his boon-companions, +told them that he intended by God's good grace to live an entirely new +life, and begged them to follow his example. As the Archbishop of +Canterbury puts it: + + The breath no sooner left his father's body + But that his wildness, mortified in him, + Seemed to die, too. Yea, at that very moment. + Consideration like an angel came, + And whipped the offending Adam out of him. + Leaving his body as a paradise, + To envelop and contain celestial spirits. + +To which the Bishop of Ely replies: + + The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, + And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, + Neighboured by fruit of baser quality. + +It is a suggestive passage, considered from any point of view We live +mixed lives in a mixed world, and we do not come upon the strawberries +by themselves or all at once. We may find strawberries to-morrow where +we can discover nothing but stinging-nettles to-day 'Madcap Harry' was +not the only son whose life at first yielded nothing but nettles that +stung and lacerated his father's soul, and yet afterwards produced +strawberries that were the delight, not only of the Church, but of the +world at large. + + + + +III + +THE CONQUEST OF THE CRAGS + + +I was strolling one still evening along a lonely New Zealand shore, when +I made a grim discovery that has often set me thinking. I had been +walking along the wet and crinkled sands, the tide being out, and had +amused myself with the shells and the seaweed that had been left lying +about by the receding waters. There is always a peculiar charm about +such a stroll. It holds such infinite possibilities. One seems to be +exploiting the surprise-packet of the universe. Jane Barlow, in her +_Bogland Studies_, makes one of her characters say: + + What use is one's life widout chances? Ye've always a chance + wid the tide; + For ye never can tell what 'twill take in its head to strew + round on the shore; + Maybe driftwood, or grand bits of boards that come handy for + splicing an oar, + Or a crab skytin' back o'er the shine o' the wet; sure, + whatever ye've found, + It's a sort of diversion them whiles when ye've starvin' and + strelin' around. + +Absorbed in so delightful an occupation the passage of time escaped my +attention, until suddenly I noticed that twilight was rapidly falling, +and I thought of my return. Before retracing my steps, however, I sat +down for a moment's rest among the sand-dunes. The possibility of making +a discovery among those arid mounds did not occur to me. But, as I sat +absent-mindedly poking the soft sand with my stick, I suddenly struck +something hard. I proceeded to dig it out, and found a couple of human +skulls. They adorn the top shelf of my book-case before me at this +moment. They always look down upon me as I write. I often catch myself +leaning back in my chair, staring up at them, and trying to read their +secret. Who were they, I wonder, these two bony companions of mine? Two +Maoris finishing, among the lonely dunes, their last fierce fatal feud? +Two travellers, hopelessly lost, who threw themselves down here to die? +A couple of sailors, whose ship had struck the cruel reefs out yonder, +and whose bodies were tossed up here by the pitiless waves? A pair of +lovers trapped by the treacherous tide? I cannot tell. What a +tantalizing mystery they seem to hold, as they grin down at me from this +high shelf of mine! It is part of the ghostly sense of mystery that +always haunts the sea and its tragedies. On the land, when disaster +occurs, all the wreckage is left to tell its own tale; but on the ocean +Fate instantly obliterates all her tracks. The magnificent vessel +lurches over, plunges with a roar into the deep, and the waves close +over the frightful ruin. Compared with the silence of the sea, the +Sphinx is voluble. The deep, dark, icy ocean-bed guards its secrets, and +guards them well. + +Sometimes, however, it is more easy to read the riddle. Here in +Tasmania, within easy reach of this quiet study of mine, there is a +battle-field that I love to visit. It extends for miles and miles, and +the whole place is strewn with the wreckage that tells of the titanic +conflict. I do not mean that the place is littered with dead men's +bones. It was a far finer and a far fiercer fight than men could have +waged, and it lasted longer than any war recorded in the annals of +history. It is the battle-field on which the land fought the sea. It is +a rocky and precipitous coast. Sometimes I like to walk along the top of +the cliff, and look down upon the pile of massive boulders that lie +tumbled in picturesque and bewildering confusion about the beach below. +Or, at low tide, I like to make my way among those monstrous piles of +broken rock that lie, higgledy-piggledy, all along the shore. What a +fight it was, day and night, summer and winter, year in and year out, +age after age! Occasionally the attack slackened down, and the rippling +waters merely lapped softly against the rocks. But there was no real +truce. The sea was only gathering up its forces in secret for the +majestic assault that was to come. Then the great breakers came rushing +in, like regiments of cavalry in full career, and each huge wave hurled +itself upon the crags with such fury that the spray dashed up sky high. + +It was a titanic struggle, and the waters won. That is the extraordinary +thing--the waters won. The water seems so soft, so yielding, so fluid, +and the rocks seem so impregnable, so adamantine, so immutable. Yet the +waters always win. The land makes no impression on the sea; but the sea +grinds the land to powder. I know that the sea is often spoken of as the +natural emblem of all that is fickle and changeful; but it is a pure +illusion. There are, of course superficial variations of tone and tint +and temper; but, as compared with the kaleidoscopic changes that +overtake the land, the ocean is eternally and everywhere the same. It, +and not the rocks, is the symbol of immutability. 'Look at the sea!' +exclaims Max Pemberton, in _Red Morn_. 'How I love it! I like to think +that those great rolling waves will go leaping by a thousand years from +now. There is never any change about the sea. You never come back to it +and say, "How it's changed!" or "Who's been building here?" or "Where's +the old place I loved?" No; it is always the same. I suppose if one +stood here for a million years the sea would not be different. You're +quite sure of it, and it never disappoints you.' The land, on the +contrary, is for ever changing. Man is always working his +transformations, and Nature is toiling to the same end. + +'When the Romans came to England,' says Frank Buckland, the naturalist, +'Julius Caesar probably looked upon an outline of cliff very different +from that which holds our gaze to-day. First there comes a sun-crack +along the edge of the cliff; the rain-water gets into the crack; then +comes the frost. The rain-water in freezing expands, and by degrees +wedges off a great slice of chalk cliff; down this tumbles into the +water; and Neptune sets his great waves to work to tidy up the mess.' No +man can know the veriest rudiments of geology without recognizing that +it is the land, and not the sea, that is constantly changing. We may +visit some historic battle-field to-day, and, finding it a network of +bustling streets and crowded alleys, may hopelessly fail to repeople the +scene with the battalions that wheeled and charged, wavered and rallied, +there in the brave days of old. But when, from the deck of a steamer, I +surveyed the blue and tossing waters off Cape Trafalgar, I knew that I +was gazing upon the scene just as it presented itself to the eye of +Nelson on the day of his immortal victory and glorious death more than a +century ago. + +Now, beneath this triumph of the ocean--the triumph that leaves the land +in fragments whilst the sea itself sustains no injury--there lies a +deeper significance than at first appears. Job saw it. No elusive +secret, lurking in the universe around him, escaped his restless eye. +'The waters wear the stones!' he cried, and it was a shout of victory +that rose from his heart when he said it. 'The waters wear the stones,' +he exclaimed, 'and Thou washest away the things which grow out of the +dust of the earth.' It is the death-knell of the material. It is the +triumph of the eternal. A little child looks upon the great granite +cliffs, and it seems impossible that the lapping waves can ever pound +them to pieces. But they do. And in the same way, Job says, man seems so +impregnable, and the world so mighty, that it appears a thing incredible +that God can finally prevail. But He shall. The quiet waters conquer the +frowning cliffs at length. The walls of Jericho fall down. This is the +victory that overcometh the world. + +And so here on this battle-field where the land and the sea fought for +mastery, I find Job sitting, and he interprets for me the paean that the +waves are singing. It is the laughter of their triumph. 'The waters wear +away the stones.' That was the heartening message that gave to Spain one +of her very greatest teachers. St. Isidore of Seville was only a boy at +the time. He found his lessons hard to learn. Study was a drudgery, and +he was tempted to give up. The huge obstacles against which he, like the +waves at the base of the cliff, was beating out his life seemed +adamantine. So he ran away from school. But in the heat of the day he +sat down to rest beside a little spring that trickled over a rock. He +noticed that the water fell in drops, and only one drop at a time; yet +those drops had worn away a large stone. It reminded him of the tasks he +had forsaken, and he returned to his desk. Diligent application overcame +his dullness, and made him one of the first scholars of his time. He +never forgot the drops of water, dripping, dripping, dripping on the +rock that they were conquering. 'Those drops of water,' says his +biographer, 'gave to Spain a brilliant historian, and to the Church a +famous doctor.' + +It is always the gentle things of life that conquer us. 'The moving +waters'--to quote Keats' beautiful phrase-- + + The moving waters at their priest-like task + Of pure ablution round earth's human shores' + +wear down the towering cliffs along the coast. It is Aesop's fable of +the North Wind and the sun over again. The North Wind, with its violence +and bluster, only makes the traveller button his coat the tighter. It +is the genial warmth of the sun that makes him take it off. It is always +by gentleness that the adamantine world is mastered. That is one of +life's most lovely secrets. We are not ruled as much as we think by +parliaments and commandments and enactments. The proportion of our lives +that is governed by such things is very small. But the proportion that +is dominated by gentler and more winsome forces is very great. The +voices that sway us with a regal authority are soft and tender voices, +the voices of those whose genial goodness compels us to love them. The +imperial tones to which we capitulate unconditionally are very rarely +stern official tones. Who does not remember how, in _The Rosary_, the +Hon. Jane Champion asks Garth Dalmain why he does not marry? And Garth +tells her of old Margery, his childhood's friend and nurse, now his +housekeeper and general mender and tender--old Margery, with her black +satin apron, lawn kerchief, and lavender ribbons. 'No doubt, Miss +Champion, it will seem absurd to you that I should sit here on the +duchess's lawn and confess that I have been held back from proposing +marriage to the women I most admired because of what would have been my +old nurse's opinion of them.' Yet so it invariably is. Our servants are +often our masters. Life's loftiest authorities never derive their +sanctions from rank, office, or station. The soul has enthronements and +coronations of its own. A little child often leads it. A Carpenter +becomes its king. Out of Nazareth comes the Conqueror of the World. The +pure and cleansing waters wear down the giant crags at the last. + +But with purity and gentleness must go patience. The lapping waters do +not reduce the rocky strata at a blow. It is always by means of patience +that the finest conquests are won. Who that has read Jack London's _Call +of the Wild_ will ever forget the great fight at the end of the book +between Buck, the dog hero, and the huge bull-moose? 'Three +hundredweight more than half a ton he weighed, the old bull; he had +lived a long, strong life, full of fight and struggle, and at the end he +faced death at the teeth of a creature whose head did not reach beyond +his great knuckled knees!' How was it done? 'There is a patience in the +wild,' Jack London says, 'a patience dogged, tireless, persistent as +life itself'; and it was by means of this patience that Buck brought +down his stately antlered prey. 'Night and day, Buck never left him, +never gave him a moment's rest, never permitted him to browse on the +leaves of the trees or the shoots of the young birch or willow. Nor did +he give the old bull one single opportunity to slake his burning thirst +in the slender, trickling streams they crossed.' For four days Buck +hung pitilessly at the huge beast's heels, and at the end of the fourth +day he pulled the bull-moose down. Buck looked so little, but he wore +the monarch out. The waters seem so feeble, but they beat the rocks to +powder. It is thus that the foolish things of this world always confound +the wise; the weak things conquer the mighty; and the things that are +not bring to naught the things that are. + + + + +IV + +LINOLEUM + + +True love is never utilitarian. I am well aware that, in novels and in +plays, the fair heroine considerately falls in love with the brave man +who, at a critical moment, saves her from a watery grave or from the +lurid horrors of a burning building. It is very good of the lady in the +novel. I admire the gratitude which prompts her romantic affection, and, +nine times out of ten, my judgement cordially approves her taste. I +know, too, that, in fiction, the sick or wounded hero invariably falls +desperately in love with the devoted nurse whose patient and untiring +attention ensures his recovery. It is very good of the hero. Again I +say, I admire his gratitude and almost invariably endorse his choice. +But it must be distinctly understood that this sort of thing is strictly +confined to novels and theatricals. In real life, men and women do not +fall in love out of gratitude. As a matter of fact, I am much more +likely to fall in love with somebody for whom I have done something than +with somebody who has done something for me. + +I was talking the other day with a nurse in a children's hospital. It is +a heartbreaking business, she told me. 'You get into the way of nursing +them, and comforting them, and playing with them, and mothering them, +until you feel that they belong to you. And then, just as you have come +to love the little thing as though he were your own, out he goes. And he +always goes out with his father or his mother, clapping his hands for +very joy at the excitement of going home, and you are left with a big +lump in your throat, and perhaps a tear in your eye, at the thought that +you will never see him again!' Clearly, therefore, we do not fall in +love as a matter of gratitude. The people who cling to us and depend +upon us are much more likely to win our hearts than the people who have +placed us under an obligation to them. If, instead of telling us that +the heroine fell in love with the man who had saved her from drowning, +the novelist had told us that the man who risked his life by plunging +into the river fell in love with the white and upturned face as he laid +it gently on the bank; or if, instead of telling us that the patient +fell in love with the nurse, he had told us that the nurse fell in love +with the patient upon whom she had lavished such beautiful devotion, he +would have been much more true to nature and to real life. It is +indisputable, of course, that, the rescuer having fallen in love with +the rescued, she may soon discover his secret, and, since love begets +love, reciprocate his affection. It is equally true that, the nurse +having conceived so tender a passion for her patient, he may soon read +the meaning of the light in her eye and of the tone in her voice, and +feel towards her as she first felt towards him. But that is quite +another matter, and is beside our point at present. Just now, I am only +concerned with challenging the novelist's unwarrantable assumption that +we fall in love out of gratitude. We do nothing of the kind. Love, I +repeat, is never utilitarian. We may fall hopelessly in love with a +thing that is of very little use to us; and we may feel no sentimental +attractions at all towards a thing that is almost indispensable. If any +man dares to dispute these conclusions, I shall simply produce a roll of +linoleum in support of my arguments, and he will be promptly crushed +beneath the weight of argument that the linoleum will furnish. + +The linoleum is the most conspicuous feature of the domestic +establishment. It is impertinent, self-assertive, and loud. If you visit +a house in which there is a linoleum, the thing rushes at you, and you +see it even before the front door has been opened. Every minister who +spends his afternoons in knocking at people's doors knows exactly what I +mean. The very sound of the knock tells you a good deal. Such sounds +are of three kinds. There is the echoing and reverberating knock that +tells you of bare boards; there is the dead and sombre thud that tells +of linoleum on the floor; and there is the softened and muffled tap that +tells of a hall well carpeted. And so I say that the linoleum--if there +be one--rushes at you, and you seem to see it even before the door has +been opened. Perhaps it is this immodesty on its part that prevents your +liking it. It is always with the coy, shy, modest things that we fall in +love most readily. + +But however that may be, the fact remains. Since this queer old world of +ours began, men and women have fallen in love with all sorts of strange +things; but there is no record of any man or woman yet having really +fallen in love with a roll of linoleum. Of everything else about the +house you get very fond. I can understand a man shedding tears when his +arm-chair has to go to the sale-room or the scrap-heap. Robert Louis +Stevenson once told the story of his favourite chair until he moved his +schoolboy audience to tears! And everybody knows how Dickens makes you +laugh and cry at the drollery and pathos with which, in all his books, +he invests chairs, tables, clocks, pictures, and every other article of +furniture. I fancy I should feel life to be less worth living if I were +deprived of some of the household odds and ends with which all my +felicity seems to be mysteriously associated. But I cannot conceive of +myself as yielding to even a momentary sensation of tenderness over the +sale, destruction, or exchange of any of the linoleums. I feel perfectly +certain that neither Stevenson nor Dickens would ever have felt an atom +of sentiment concerning linoleum. Yet why? Few things about the house +are more serviceable. I could point offhand to a hundred things no one +of which has earned its right to a place in the home one-hundredth part +as nobly as has the linoleum. Yet I am very fond of each of those +hundred things, whilst I am not at all fond of the linoleum. I +appreciate it, but I do not love it. So there it is! Said I not truly +that love is never utilitarian? We grow fond of things because we grow +fond of things; we never grow fond of things simply because they are of +use to us. + +But we cannot in decency let the matter rest at that. There must be some +reason for the failure of the linoleum to stir my affections. Why does +it alone, among my household goods and chattels, kindle no warmth within +my soul? The linoleum is both pretty and useful; what more can I want? +Many things pretty, but not useful, have swept me off my feet. Many +things useful, but not pretty, have captivated my heart. And more than +once things neither pretty nor useful have completely enslaved me. Yet +here is the linoleum, both pretty and useful, and I feel for it no +fondness whatsoever; I remain as cold as ice, and as hard as adamant. +Why is it? To begin with, I fancy the pattern has something to do with +it. I do not now refer to any particular pattern; but to all the +linoleum patterns that were ever designed. Those endless squares and +circles and diamonds and stars! Could anything be more repelling? Here, +for instance, on the linoleum, I find a star. I know at once that if I +look I shall see hundreds of similar stars. They will all be in +perfectly straight lines, not one a quarter of an inch out of its place. +They will all be mathematically equidistant; they will be of exactly the +same size, of identically the same colour, and their angles will all +point in precisely the same direction. If the stars in the firmament +above us were arranged on the same principle, they would drive us mad. +The beauty of it is that, _there_, one star differeth from another star +in glory. But on the linoleum they do nothing of the sort. + +Or perhaps the pattern is a floral one. It thinks to coax me into a +feeling that I am in the garden among the roses, the rhododendrons, or +the chrysanthemums. But it is a hopeless failure. Whoever saw roses, +rhododendrons, or chrysanthemums, all of exactly the same size, of +precisely the same colour, and hanging in rows at mathematically +identical levels? The beauty of the garden is that having looked at +_this_ rose, I am the more eager to see _that_ one; having admired +_this_ chrysanthemum, I am the more curious to mark the variety +presented by _the next_. No two are precisely the same. And because this +infinite diversity is the essential charm both of the heavens above and +of the earth beneath, I am shocked and repelled by the monotony of the +pattern on the linoleum. In the old days it was customary to plaster the +walls, even of sick-rooms, with papers of patterns equally pronounced, +and many a poor patient was tortured almost to death by the glaring +geometrical abominations. The doctor said that the sufferer was to be +kept perfectly quiet; yet the pattern on the wall is allowed to scream +at him and shout at him from night until morning, and from morning until +night. He has counted those awful stars or roses, perpendicularly, +horizontally, diagonally, from right to left, from left to right, from +top to bottom, and from bottom to top, until the hideous monstrosities +are reproduced in frightful duplicate upon the fevered tissues of his +throbbing brain. He may close his eyes, but he sees them still. It was a +form of torture worthy of an inquisitor-general. The pattern on the +linoleum is happily not quite so bad. When we are ill we do not see it; +and when we are well we may to some extent avoid it. Not altogether; for +even if we do not look at it, we have an uncanny feeling that it is +there. Between the hearthrug and the table I catch sight of the bright +flaunting head of a scarlet poppy, or of the tossing petals of a huge +chrysanthemum, and my imagination instantly flashes to my mind the +horrible impression of tantalizing rows of exactly similar blossoms +running off with mathematical precision in every conceivable direction. + +For some reason or other we instinctively recoil from these monotonous +regularities. I once heard a friend observe that the average woman would +rather marry a man whose life was painfully irregular than a man whose +life was painfully regular. It may have been an over-statement of the +case; but there is something in it. We fall in love with good people, +and we fall in love with bad people; but with the man who is 'too +proper,' and the woman who is 'too straight-laced,' we very, very rarely +fall in love. It is the problem of Tennyson's 'Maud.' As a girl Maud was +irregular--and lovable. + + Maud, with her venturous climbings and tumbles and childish escapes, + Maud, the delight of the village, the ringing joy of the Hall, + Maud, with her sweet purse-mouth when my father dangled the grapes, + Maud, the beloved of my mother, the moon-faced darling of all. + +But later on Maud was regular--and as unattractive as linoleum. + + ... Maud, she has neither savour nor salt, + But a cold and clear-cut face, as I found when her carriage passed, + Perfectly beautiful: let it be granted her: where is the fault? + All that I saw (for her eyes were downcast, not to be seen) + Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null, + Dead perfection, no more. + +Shall I be told that this is high doctrine, and hard to bear, this +doctrine of the lovableness of irregularity? I think not. Towering above +all our biographies, as snowclad heights tower above dusty little +molehills, there stands the life-story of One who, alone among the sons +of men, was altogether good. It is the most charming and the most varied +life-story that has ever been written since this little world began. Its +lovely deeds and graceful speech, its tender pathos and its awful +tragedy, have won the hearts of men all over the world, and all down the +ages. But find monotony there if you can! It is like a sky full of stars +or a field of fairest flowers. The life that repels, as the linoleum +repels, by the very severity of its regularity, has something wrong with +it somewhere. + +If I have outraged the sensibilities of any well-meaning champion of a +geometrical and mathematical and linoleum-like regularity, let me hasten +to conciliate him! I know that even regularity--the regularity of the +linoleum pattern--may have its advantages. Dr. George MacDonald, in +_Robert Falconer_, says that 'there is a well-authenticated story of a +notorious convict who was reformed by entering, in one of the colonies, +a church where the matting along the aisle was of the same pattern as +that in the church to which he had gone with his mother as a boy.' +Bravo! It is pleasant, extremely pleasant, to find that even monotony +has its compensations. Let me but get to know my 'too proper' and +'straight-laced' friends a little better, and I shall doubtless discover +even there a few redeeming features. + +But, for all that, the linoleum is cold; and we do not fall in love with +cold things. A volcano is a much more dangerous affair than an iceberg; +but it is much more easy to fall in love with the things that make you +shudder than with the things that make you shiver. That was the trouble +with Maud, she was so chilly and chilling; her 'cold and clear-cut face, +faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null!' And that is +precisely the trouble with every system of religion, morality, or +philosophy--save one--that has ever been presented to the minds of men. +Plato and Aristotle and Marcus Aurelius were splendid, simply splendid; +but they were frigid, frigid as Maud, and their counsels of perfection +could never have enchained my heart. Buddha, Confucius, Mohammed--the +stars of the East--were wonderful, but oh, so cold! I turn from these +icy regularities to the lovely life I have already mentioned. And, to +use Whittier's expressive word, it is 'warm.' + + Yes, warm, sweet, tender, even yet + A present help is He; + And faith has yet its Olivet, + And love its Galilee. + +_'Warm'_ ... _'love'_ ... here are words that touch my soul to tears. +'We love Him because _He first loved us_.' The monotony and frigidity of +the linoleum have given way to the beauty and the brightness of flowery +fields all bathed in summer sunshine. + + + + +V + +THE EDITOR + + +I approach my present theme with considerable diffidence, for reasons +obvious and for reasons obscure. For one thing, I was for some years an +editor myself, and I cannot satisfy myself that the experiment was even +a moderate success. Everything went splendidly, so far as I was +concerned, as long as I wrote everything myself; but I was terribly +pestered by other people. They worried me year in and year out, morning, +noon, and night. They would insist on sending me manuscripts that I had +neither the grace to accept nor the courage to decline. They wrote the +most learned treatises, the most pathetic stories, and the most +affecting little sonnets. The latter, they explained, were for Poet's +Corner. They actually deluged me with letters, intended for publication, +dealing with all sorts of subjects in which I took not the slightest +glimmer of interest. They sometimes even presumed, in some carping or +captious way, to criticize or review things that I had myself +written--as though such things were open to question! At other times +they wrote to applaud the sentiments I had expressed--as though I +needed their corroboration! They were an awful nuisance. The stupid +thing was only a monthly, and how they imagined that there would be any +room for _their_ contributions, by the time I had been a whole month +writing, passes my comprehension. Then came the awakening, and it was a +rude one. I suddenly realized that I was a fraud, a delusion, and a +snare. I was not an editor at all. I was simply masquerading, playing a +great game of bluff and make-believe. As a matter of fact, I was nothing +more than an objectionably garrulous contributor who had gained +possession of the editor's sanctum, usurped the editor's authority, and +commandeered the editor's chair. I felt so ashamed of myself that I +precipitately fled, and, although I have several times since been +invited to assume editorial responsibilities, I have shown my profound +respect for journalism by politely but firmly declining. It does not at +all follow that, because a man can make a few bricks, he can therefore +build a mansion. A chemist may be very clever at making up +prescriptions, but that does not prove his ability to prescribe. + +During the years to which I have referred, that paper really had no +editor. An editor would have done three things. He would have written a +few wise words himself. He would have pitilessly repressed my +unconscionable volubility. And he would have given the public the +benefit of some of those carefully prepared contributions which I, with +savage satisfaction, hurled into the waste-paper basket. It would have +been a good thing for the paper if the editorials had been so few and so +brief that people could have been reasonably expected to read them. They +would then have attached to them the gravity and authority that such +contributions should normally carry. And it would have been good for the +world in general, and for me in particular, if liberal quantities of my +manuscript had been substitutionally sacrificed in redemption of some of +those rolls of paper, whose destruction I now deplore, which I consigned +to limbo with so light a heart. Since then I have had a fairly wide +experience of editors, and the years have increased my respect. 'O +Lord,' an up-country suppliant once exclaimed at the week-night +prayer-meeting, 'O Lord, the more I sees of other people the more I +likes myself!' I do not quite share the good man's feeling, at any rate +so far as editors are concerned. The more I have seen of the ways of +other editors the less am I pleased with the memory of my own attempt. +The way in which these other editors have treated my own manuscript +makes me blush for very shame as I remember my editorial intolerance of +such packages. Very occasionally an editor has found it necessary to +delete some portion of my contribution, and, nine times out of ten, I +have admired the perspicacity which detected the excrescence and +strengthened the whole by removing the part. I say nine times out of +ten; but I hint at the tenth case in no spirit of resentment or +bitterness. I am young yet, and the years may easily teach me that, even +in the instances that still seem doubtful to me, I am under a deep and +lasting obligation to the editorial surgery. + +The editor is the emblem of all those potent, elusive, invisible forces +that control our human destinies. We are clearly living in an edited +world. We may not always agree with the editor; it would be passing +strange if we did. We may see lots of things admitted that we, had we +been editor, would have vigorously excluded. The venom of the cobra, the +cruelty of the wolf, the anguish of a sickly babe, and the flaunting +shame of the street corner; had I been editor I should have ruthlessly +suppressed all these contributions. But my earlier experience of +editorship haunts my memory to warn me. I was too fond of rejecting +things in those days. I was too much attached to the waste-paper basket. +And I have been sorry for it ever since. And perhaps when I have lived a +few aeons longer, and have had experience of more worlds than one, I +shall feel ashamed of my present inclination to doubt the editor's +wisdom. Knowing as little as I know, I should certainly have rejected +these contributions with scorn and impatience. The fangs of the viper, +the teeth of the crocodile, and all things hideous and hateful, I should +have intolerantly excluded. And, some ages later, with the experience of +a few millenniums and the knowledge of many worlds to guide me, I should +have lamented my folly, even as I now deplore my old editorial +exclusiveness. + +And, on the other hand, we sometimes catch a glimpse of the editor's +waste-paper basket, and the revelation is an astounding one. The waste +of the world is terrific. And among these rejected manuscripts I see +some most exquisitely beautiful things. The other day, not far from +here, a snake bit a little girl and killed her. Now here was a curious +freak of editorship! On the editor's table there lay two manuscripts. +There was the snake--a loathsome, scaly brute, with wicked little eyes +and venomous fangs, a thing that made your flesh creep to look at it. +And there was the little girl, a sweet little thing with curly hair and +soft blue eyes, a thing that you could not see without loving. Had I +been there, I should have tried to kill the snake and save the child. +That is to say, I should have accepted the child-manuscript, and +rejected the snake-manuscript. But the editor does exactly the opposite. +The snake-manuscript is accepted; the horrid thing glides through the +bush at this moment as a recognized part of the scheme of the universe. +The child-manuscript is rejected; it is thrown away; have we not seen +it, like a crumpled poem, in the editor's waste-paper basket? How +differently I should have acted had I been editor! And then, when I +afterwards reviewed my editorship, as I to-day review that other +editorship of mine, I should have seen that I was wrong. And that +reflection makes me very thankful that I am not the editor. We shall yet +come to see, in spite of all present appearances to the contrary, that +the editor adopted the kindest, wisest, best course with each of the +manuscripts presented. We shall see + + That nothing walks with aimless feet; + That not one life shall be destroyed, + Or cast as rubbish to the void, + When God hath made the pile complete; + + That not a worm is cloven in vain; + That not a moth with vain desire + Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire, + Or but subserves another's gain. + +Everybody feels at liberty to criticize the Editor; but, depend upon it, +when all the information is before us that is before Him, we shall see +that our paltry judgement was very blind. And we shall recognize with +profound admiration that we have been living in a most skilfully edited +world. + +For, after all, that is the point. The Editor knows so much more than I +do. He has eyes and ears in the ends of the earth. His sanctum seems so +remote from everything, and yet it is an observatory from which He +beholds all the drama of the world's great throbbing life. When I was a +boy I was very fond of a contrivance that was called a camera-obscura. I +usually found it among the attractions of a seaside town. You paid a +penny, entered a room, and sat down beside a round white table. The +operator followed, and closed the door. The place was then in total +darkness; you could not see your hand before you. It seemed incredible +that in this black hole one could get a clearer view of all that was +happening in the neighbourhood than was possible out in the sunlight. +Yet, as soon as the lens above you was opened, the whole scene appeared +like a moving coloured photograph on the white table. The waves breaking +on the beach; the people strolling on the promenade; everything was +faithfully depicted there. Not a dog could wag his tail but there, in +the darkness, you saw him do it. An observer who watched you enter, and +saw the door close after you, could be certain that now, for awhile, you +were cut off from everything. And yet, as a fact, you only went into the +darkness that you might see the whole scene in the more perfect +perspective. What is this but the editor's sanctum? He enters it and, +to all appearances, he leaves the world behind him as he does so. But it +is a mere illusion. He enters it that he may see the whole world more +clearly from its quiet seclusion. + +In the same way, when I look round upon the world, and see the things +that are allowed to happen, the Editor seems fearfully aloof. He seems +to have gone into His heaven and closed the door behind Him. 'Clouds and +darkness are round about Him,' says the psalmist. And if clouds and +darkness are round about Him, is it any wonder that His vision is +obscure? If clouds and darkness are round about Him, is it any wonder +that He acts so strangely? If clouds and darkness are round about Him, +is it any wonder that He rejects the child-manuscript and accepts the +snake-manuscript? And yet, and yet; what if the darkness that envelops +Him be the darkness of the camera-obscura? The psalmist declares that it +is just because clouds and darkness are round about Him that +righteousness and judgement are the habitation of His throne. It is a +darkness that obscures Him from me without in the slightest degree +concealing me from Him. + +So there the editor sits in his seclusion. Nobody is so unobtrusive. You +may read your paper, day after day, year in and year out, without even +discovering the editor's name. You would not recognize him if you met +him on the street. He may be young or old, tall or short, stout or +slim, dark or fair, shabby or genteel--you have no idea. There is +something strangely mysterious about the elusive individuality of that +potent personage who every day draws so near to you, and yet of whom you +know so little. One of these days I shall be invited to preach a special +sermon to editors, and, in view of so dazzling an opportunity, I have +already selected my text. I shall speak of that Ideal Servant of +Humanity of whom the prophet tells. 'He shall not scream, nor be loud, +nor advertise Himself,' Isaiah says, 'but He shall never break a bruised +reed nor quench a smouldering wick.' That would make a great theme for a +sermon to editors. There He is, so mysterious and yet so mighty; so +remote and yet so omniscient; so invisible and yet so eloquent; so slow +to obtrude Himself and yet so swift to discern any flickering spark of +genius in others. He shall not advertise Himself nor quench a single +smouldering wick. + +There are two great moments in the history of a manuscript. The first is +the moment of its preparation; the second is the moment of its +appearance. And in between the two comes the editor's censorship and +revision. I said just now that I had noticed that editorial emendations +are almost invariably distinct improvements. The article as it appears +is better than the article as it left my hands. Now let me think. I +spoke a moment ago of the child-manuscript and the snake-manuscript; but +what about myself? Am not I too a manuscript, and shall I not also fall +into the Editor's hands? What about all the blots, and the smudges, and +the erasures, and the alterations? Will they all be seen when I appear, +_when I appear_? The Editor sees to that. The Editor will take care that +none of the smudges on this poor manuscript shall be seen when I appear. +'For we know,' says one of the Editor's most intimate friends, 'we know +that _when we appear_ we shall be like Him--without spot or wrinkle or +any such thing!' It is a great thing to know that, before I appear, I +shall undergo the Editor's revision. + +Charlie was very excited. His father was a sailor. The ship was homeward +bound, and dad would soon be home. Thinking so intently and exclusively +of his father's coming, Charlie determined to carve out a ship of his +own. He took a block of wood, and set to work. But the wood was hard, +and the knife was blunt, and Charlie's fingers were very small. + +'Dad may be here when you wake up in the morning, Charlie!' his mother +said to him one night. + +That night Charlie took his ship and his knife to bed with him. When his +father came at midnight Charlie was fast asleep, the blistered hand on +the counterpane not far from the knife and the ship. The father took +the ship, and, with his own strong hand, and his own sharp knife, it was +soon a trim and shapely vessel. Charlie awoke with the lark next +morning, and, proudly seizing his ship, he ran to greet his father; and +it is difficult to say which of the two was the more proud of it. It is +an infinite comfort to know that, however blotted and blurred this poor +manuscript may be when I lay down my pen at night, the Editor will see +to it that I have nothing to be ashamed of _when I appear_ in the +morning. + + + + +VI + +THE PEACEMAKER + + +Things had come to a pretty pass up at Corinth, when Paul felt it +incumbent upon him to write to the members of the Church, imploring them +to be reconciled to God. 'Now then,' Paul said to those recalcitrant +believers, 'now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did +beseech you by us, we pray you, in Christ's stead, _be ye reconciled to +God_.' I used to wonder what he can possibly have meant; but now I think +I understand. + + +I + +Claudius was wealthy. He dwelt in a beautiful house on the top of a +hill, on the eastern side of the city of Corinth. From his spacious +balconies he looked down upon the blue, blue waters of the Adriatic as +they lapped caressingly the sands of the bay on the one side, and on the +spreading sapphire of the island-studded Aegean gleaming most charmingly +upon the other. Away in the distance he commanded a magnificent +prospect, and could clearly make out the towers and domes of Athens as +they pierced the sky on the far horizon. The Acropolis could be seen +distinctly. It was a delightful home, delightfully situated. Claudius +was a member of the Church; but he was not very happy about it. Claudius +had prospered amazingly of late years, and his prosperity had involved +him in commercial and social entanglements from which it would be very +difficult now to escape. The life that Claudius had set before himself +in the early days of his spiritual experience seemed to him later on +like a beautiful dream. That is to say, it seemed to him like a dream +when he thought about it; but he did not think about it more often than +he could help. Claudius knew perfectly well that the life of which he +used to dream was worth some sacrifice; and he knew that he was really +the poorer, and not the richer, for having abandoned that radiant ideal. +He occasionally attended the assembly of worshippers, it is true; but he +derived small satisfaction from the exercise. It seemed like exposing +his poor withered, emaciated soul to the limelight; and he saw with a +start how starved and famished it had become. And so the inner +experience of poor Claudius became a perpetual battle-ground. At times +the old dream seemed within an ace of being victorious. He was more than +half inclined to break away from all his later entanglements, and to +renew the ardour of his youthful aspirations. But he had scarcely +reached this devout determination when the glamour of his later life +once more began to dazzle him. Alluring invitations, temptingly +phrased, poured in upon him. It is horrid to be discourteous! How could +he bring himself to offend people from whom he had received nothing but +kindness? Surely a man owes something to the proprieties of life! And so +the fight went on. But in the depths of his secret soul Claudius knew +that that fight was a fight between Claudius on the one hand and God on +the other. He knew, too, that in that stern conflict Claudius was +altogether wrong, and God was altogether right. And he knew that, if he +persisted in the unequal struggle, nothing but shame and humiliation +awaited him. Claudius knew it, and Paul knew it. Paul knew it, and +proffered his good offices as mediator. 'Now then,' he wrote, with +Claudius in his eye, 'now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though +God did beseech you by us, we pray you, in Christ's stead, _be ye +reconciled to God_.' And the words brought to the heart of poor Claudius +just such a surge of vehement emotion as a lover feels at the prospect +of once more embracing the beloved form with which he had so angrily and +hastily parted. + + +II + +Polonius and Phebe were in a very different case. Polonius dwelt close +to the city in order to be near his work, and his windows commanded no +view of any kind. He was not a slave, but sometimes he said bitterly +that the slaves were as happy as he. The world had gone hardly with +Polonius. The stars in their courses seemed to be fighting against him. +He had tried hard to be brave, but circumstances sometimes conspire +against courage. Polonius, in spite of the most commendable endeavours, +was poor; yet if poverty had been his only misfortune he could have +borne it with a smile. But, in addition to poverty, troubles came thick +and fast upon him. Like Claudius, he was a member of the church at +Corinth; and it was in connexion with his labours of love for the +sanctuary that he had first met Phebe. She was young and fair in those +days, and her loveliness was glorified by her devotion. But his love for +her had fallen upon her tender spirit like a malediction. It was as +though his fondness for his sweet young wife had woven a malignant spell +about her early womanhood. He would have died a thousand deaths to make +her happy; yet since first they linked their lives they had known +nothing but incessant struggle and ceaseless grief. Phebe herself had +been ill again and again. Four little children had stolen like sunbeams +into their home; only, like sunbeams, to vanish again, and give place to +tempests of tears. Then came a long blank; and they fancied they were +doomed to spend the rest of their sad lives childlessly. But, at length, +to their unspeakable delight, their little home once more resounded +with the shout of baby merriment and the patter of baby footsteps. It +was as if the four children who had perished had bequeathed to this new +treasure all the affection that they had excited in the breasts of their +poor parents. And then, after seven happy years, it too faded and died. +Polonius and Phebe were broken-hearted. Never again, they said, would +they go to the assembly at Corinth. How could they believe in the love +of God after this? And so their hearts grew hard, and their souls were +soured, and all sweetness departed from their spirits. + +There is a story very like this in our own literature. In the old house +at Kettering, Andrew Fuller was lying ill in one room, whilst his only +surviving daughter--a child of six--lay at the point of death in the +next. He tried hard to reconcile himself and his poor wife to the +impending calamity. But their spirits revolted. The thought that, after +having buried first one child and then another, this one too might be +snatched from them was more than they could bear. But, 'on Tuesday, May +30,' says Fuller in his diary, 'on Tuesday, May 30, as I lay ill in bed +in another room, I heard a whispering. I inquired, and all were silent! +All were silent!--but all is well. _I feel reconciled to God_.' That is +a fine saying. '_I feel reconciled to God_.' But poor Polonius and Phebe +could as yet enter no such brave words in their domestic record. +'Wherefore,' writes Paul, with a thought, perhaps, of Polonius and +Phebe, 'wherefore we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did +beseech you by us, we pray you, in Christ's stead, _be ye reconciled to +God_.' And when Polonius and Phebe heard that touching appeal they +resolved no longer to kick against the pricks. 'Renew my will,' they +prayed, anticipating the language of a later hymn: + + Renew my will from day to day; + Blend it with Thine; and take away + All that now makes it hard to say, + 'Thy will be done!' + +And, like Andrew Fuller and his wife at Kettering, Polonius and his wife +at Corinth were able to say, '_I feel reconciled to God_.' + + +III + +To the south of Corinth, just where the great main road begins to ascend +the ridge of the mountains, lived Julia. Julia was a widow, comfortably +circumstanced. Her husband had died years before, leaving her with the +charge of their one young son. And as the days had gone by, and time had +sprinkled strands of silver into Julia's hair, she had built her hopes +more and more upon the future of her boy. Julia's husband had died +before either he or she had so much as heard the name of Jesus. But +after his death Paul came over from Athens to Corinth in the course of +that first memorable visit to Europe, and Julia had been among his +earliest converts. After her conversion Julia often thought of her +husband, and was ill at ease. But, like a wise woman, she determined to +work for the things that remained rather than to weep over those that +were lost to her. And so she devoted all her love, and all her thought, +and all her energy, and all her time to her little son. When Paul's +first letter to the Christians at Corinth was read to the church, she +caught a phrase about being 'baptized for the dead.' She did not quite +know what Paul meant by the words; but at any rate she would try to +instil into the heart of her boy the lovely faith that she felt certain +her husband would cheerfully have embraced. And wonderfully she +succeeded. The boy listened with eyes wide open to the tender stories +that Julia told him, and his heart acknowledged their profound +significance. At the same age at which Jesus went with Mary to the +Temple, and was found in the midst of the doctors, young Amplius went +with Julia up to the church at Corinth, and was found in the midst of +the deacons. + +From the very first the soul of Amplius prospered. He was like those +trees of which the psalmist sings which, 'planted in the courts of the +Lord, flourish in the house of our God.' From the time of his baptism +and reception into the sacred fellowship, the child Amplius grew, like +the child Jesus, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom, and the +grace of God was upon him. Then, after about six years of happy +Christian experience, Amplius confided a wonderful secret to Julia. He +told her that he had resolved, with her consent, to devote himself to +the sacred office of the ministry. And at that word the soul of Julia +died within her. She knew what those early preachers and teachers had +suffered. She knew of the martyrdom of all those first apostles. She had +heard that even Paul himself had been 'in journeyings often, in perils +of rivers and in perils of robbers, in perils by his own countrymen and +in perils of the heathen, in perils of the city and in perils of the +desert, in perils of the sea and in perils among false brethren.' And +Julia's heart failed her as she thought of Amplius faced by such +dangers. Moreover, Julia had other plans for Amplius. She had fondly +dreamed of him as holding a great place in the city of Corinth. When she +had seen rulers and governors performing exalted functions on State +occasions, she had said within herself, 'Some day, perhaps, Amplius will +wear those robes,' or 'Some day, perhaps, Amplius will make that +speech.' And now all such dreams were rudely shattered. Her son would +fain be a minister, an outcast, perhaps even a martyr. And at that +thought the soul of Julia rebelled, and she began to fight against God. + +There is a case like this, also, in our own literature. Grey Hazelrigg +was the only child of Lady Hazelrigg, of Carlton Hall. Her ladyship +intended her son for the army, but he failed to pass the tests. She then +sent him to Cambridge University. There he came under deep religious +influences. He began, as opportunities presented themselves, to preach +the gospel. His efforts met with immediate acceptance, and he wrote to +his astonished mother to say that he desired to become a minister of the +old Strict Baptist Communion! The request struck Carlton Hall like a +thunderbolt, and the spirit of Lady Hazelrigg rose in instant revolt. +But Grey prayed in secret, and preached in public, and pleaded with his +mother whenever a suitable opportunity occurred. Then came an experience +of which, the Rev. W. Y. Fullerton says, he spoke with sparkling eyes +seventy years afterwards. He was on a journey when his mind was suddenly +and strangely arrested by the words of Jeremiah, 'Verily, it shall be +well with Thy remnant.' He took it to refer to Lady Hazelrigg's +opposition to his call; and, surely enough, 'the very next letter that +he received from his mother bore the joyful tidings that she was, as she +herself phrased it, _reconciled to God_.' Mr. Grey Hazelrigg lived to +be nearly a hundred, and his work, both as a writer and a preacher, will +be remembered in England with thankfulness for many a day to come. There +can be no doubt, therefore, that, in those earlier days, Lady Hazelrigg +was fighting against God. And there can be no doubt, either, that, in +those early days, Julia was fighting against God. And therefore Paul +wrote as he did, perhaps with Julia specially in mind. 'Now then,' he +said, 'we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by +us, we pray you, in Christ's stead, _be ye reconciled to God_.' And, +like Lady Hazelrigg, Julia made her peace with God, and her son adorned +the Christian ministry for many a long day. + + +IV + +'_Be ye reconciled to God_'--Paul the Peacemaker wrote to the Christians +at Corinth. It is vastly important. We so easily drift away from early +attachments and early friendships; and even the divine friendship is not +immune from this cruel and heartless treatment. We drift away from it, +and must needs be reconciled. '_Be ye reconciled to God_,' says Paul the +Peacemaker 'for unless you yourselves are reconciled to God, how can you +reconcile to God those who are without?' How can I reconcile hearts that +are alienated if, between either of those hearts and mine, there exists +some embarrassing estrangement? '_Be ye reconciled to God_,' said Paul +the Peacemaker to the church at Corinth, for he knew that the Church's +ministry of reconciliation would stand stultified and useless so long as +the Church herself was out of touch with her Lord. + + + + +VII + +NOTHING + + +Nature, they say, abhors a vacuum. For the life of me, I do not know +why. But then, for the matter of that, I do not know why I myself love +many of the things that I love, and loathe many of the things that I +abhor. Nature, however, is not usually capricious. Some deep policy +generally prompts her strange behaviour. I must go into this matter a +little more carefully. First of all, what is a vacuum? What is Nothing? + +I was at a prize distribution not long ago, and as I came out into the +street I came upon a little chap crying as though his heart would break. +He was quite alone. His parents had not thought it worth their while to +accompany him to the function, and thus show their interest in his +school life. Perhaps it was owing to the same lack of sympathy on their +part that he was among the few boys who were bearing home no prize. + +'Hullo, sonny,' I exclaimed,'what's the matter?' + +'_Oh, nothing_!' he replied, between his sobs. + +'Then what on earth are you crying for?' + +'_Oh, nothing_!' he repeated. + +I respected his delicacy, and probed no farther into the cause of his +discomfiture, but I had collected further evidence of my contention that +there is more in Nothing than you would suppose. Nor had I gone far +before still further corroboration greeted me. For, at the top of the +street, I came upon a group of lads in the centre of which was a boy +with a very handsome prize. I paused and admired it. + +'And what was this for?' I asked. + +'_Oh, nothing_!' he answered, with a blush. + +'But, my dear fellow, you must have done something to deserve it!' + +'_Oh, it was nothing_!' he reiterated, and it was from his companions +that I obtained the information that I sought. But here again it was +made clear to me that there is a good deal in Nothing. Nothing is worth +thinking about. It is a huge mistake to take things at their face value. +Nothing may sometimes represent a modest contrivance for hiding +everything; and we must not allow ourselves to be deceived. + +An old tradition assures us that, on the sudden death of one of +Frederick the Great's chaplains, a certain candidate showed himself most +eager for the vacant post. The king told him to proceed to the royal +chapel and to preach an impromptu sermon on a text that he would find in +the pulpit on arrival. When the critical moment arrived, the preacher +opened the sealed packet, and found it--_blank_! Not a word or pen-mark +appeared! With a calm smile the clergyman cast his eyes over the +congregation, and then said, 'Brethren, here is Nothing. Blessed is he +whom Nothing can annoy, whom Nothing can make afraid or swerve from his +duty. We read that God from Nothing made all things. And yet look at the +stupendous majesty of His infinite creation! And does not Job tell us +that Nothing is the foundation of everything? "He hangeth the world upon +Nothing," the patriarch declares.' The candidate then proceeded to +elaborate the wonder and majesty of that creation that emanated from +Nothing, and depended on Nothing. I need scarcely add that Frederick +bestowed upon so ingenious a preacher the vacant chaplaincy. And in the +years that followed he became one of the monarch's most intimate friends +and most trusted advisers. + +We must not, however, fly to the opposite extreme, and make too much of +Nothing. For the odd thing is that, twice at least in her strange and +chequered history, the Church has fallen in love with members of the +Nothing family, and, after the fashion of lovers, has completely lost +her head over them. On the first occasion she became deeply enamoured of +Doing Nothing, and on the second occasion she went crazy over +Having-Nothing. I must tell of these amorous exploits one at a time. The +adoration of Doing-Nothing had a great vogue at one stage of the +Church's history. Who that has once read the thirty-seventh chapter of +Gibbon's _Decline and Fall_--the chapter on 'The Origin, Progress, and +Effects of the Monastic Life'--will ever cease to be haunted by the +weird, fantastic spectacle therein presented? Men suddenly took it into +their heads that the only way of serving God was by doing nothing. They +swarmed out into the deserts, and lived solitary lives. They took vows +of perpetual silence, and ceased to speak; they ate only the most +disgusting food; they lived the lives of wild beasts. 'Even sleep, the +last refuge of the unhappy, was rigorously measured; the vacant hours +rolled heavily on, without business and without pleasure; and, before +the close of each day, the tedious progress of the sun was repeatedly +accursed.' Here was an amazing phenomenon. It was, of course, only a +passing fancy, the merest piece of coquetry on the Church's part. It is +unthinkable that she thought seriously of Doing-Nothing, and of settling +down with him for the rest of her natural life. The glamour of this +casual flirtation soon wore off. The Church discovered to her +mortification that there was nothing in Nothing. Saint Anthony, of +Alexandria, who felt that the life of the city was too full of +incitement to frivolity and pleasure, fled to the desert, to escape +from these temptations. He became a hermit. But he gave it up, and +returned to Alexandria. The abominable imaginations that haunted his +mind in the solitude were far more loathsome and degrading than anything +he had experienced in the busy city. Fra Angelico, who also fell in love +with Doing-Nothing, says that he heard the flapping of the wings of +unclean things about his lonely cell. And Francis Xavier has told us of +the seven terrible days that he spent in the tomb of Thomas at Malabar. +'All around me,' he says, 'malignant devils prowled incessantly, and +wrestled with me with invisible but obscene hands.' It is the old story, +there is nothing in Nothing; and he who falls in love with any member of +that family will live to regret the adventure. I remember being greatly +impressed by a sentence or two in Nansen's _Farthest North_. He is +describing the maddening monotony of the interminable Arctic night. +'Ah!' he exclaims suddenly, 'life's peace is said to be found by holy +men in the desert. Here indeed is desert enough; _but peace_!--of that I +know nothing. I suppose it is the holiness that is lacking.' The +explorer was simply discovering that there is nothing in Nothing but +what you yourself take into it. + +One would have supposed that, after this heart-breaking affair with +Doing-Nothing, the Church would have been on her guard against all +members of the Nothing family. But no! she was deceived a second +time--in this instance by the wiles of Having-Nothing. I allude, of +course, to the story of the Mendicant Orders. We all know how Francis +d'Assisi fell in love with Poverty. One day, to the consternation of his +friends, they received a letter from the gay young soldier, telling them +of his intention to lead an entirely new life. 'I am thinking of taking +a wife more beautiful, more rich, more pure than you could ever +imagine.' The wife was the Lady Poverty; and Giotto, in a fresco at +Assisi, has represented Francis placing the ring on the finger of his +bride. The feminine figure is crowned with roses, but she is arrayed in +rags, and her feet are bruised with stones and torn with briars. Francis +borrowed the tattered and filthy garments of a beggar, and sought alms +at the street corners that he might enter into the secret of poverty; +and then he and Dominic founded those orders of mendicant monks which +became one of the most potent missionary forces of the Middle Ages. + +But once again the Church found out that her affections were being +played with. There is no more virtue in Having-Nothing than in +Doing-Nothing. They are both good-for-nothing. It may be that some of us +would be better men if we had less money; but then, others of us would +be better men if we had more. It may be that, here and there, you may +find a Silas Marner who has been saved by sudden poverty from miserly +greed and hardening self-absorption. But, for one such case, it would be +easy to point to hundreds of men who have been driven by poverty from +the ways of honour, and to hundreds of women who have been forced by +poverty from the paths of virtue. It all comes back to this: there is +nothing in Nothing. Doing-Nothing and Having-Nothing are deceivers--the +pair of them; and the Church must not be beguiled by their +blandishments. Work and money are both good things. Even William Law saw +that. His _Serious Call_ has often almost made a monk of me, but a +sudden flash of common sense always breaks from the page just in time. +'There are two things,' he says in his fine chapter on 'The Wise and +Pious Use of an Estate,' 'there are two things which, of all others, +most want to be under a strict rule, and which are the greatest +blessings both to ourselves and others, when they are rightly used. +These two things are our time and our money. These talents are the +continual means and opportunities of doing good.' Beware, that is to +say, of Doing-Nothing, of Having-Nothing, and of the whole family of +Nothings. It is not for nothing that Nature abhors them. + +And now it suddenly comes home to me that I am playing on the very verge +of a tremendous truth. There is nothing in Nothing. Let me remember +that when next I am at death-grips with temptation! Cupid is said to +have complained to Jupiter that he could never seize the Muses because +he could never find them idle. And I suppose that our everyday remark +that 'Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do' has its +origin in the same idea. John Locke, the great philosopher, used to say +that, in the hour of temptation, he preferred any company rather than +his own. If possible, he sought the companionship of children. Anything +rather than Nothing. It reminds us of Hannibal. The great Carthaginian +led his troops up the Alpine passes, but he found that the heights were +strongly held by the Romans. Attack was out of the question. Hannibal +watched closely one night, however, and discovered that, under cover of +darkness, the enemy withdrew for the night to the warmer valley on the +opposite slope. Next night, therefore, Hannibal led his troops to the +heights, and, when the Roman general approached in the morning, he found +that the tables had been turned upon him. There is always peril in +vacancy. The uncultivated garden brings forth weeds. The unoccupied mind +becomes the devil's playground. The vacant soul is a lost soul. There is +nothing in Nothing. + +But for the greatest illustration of my present theme I must betake me +to Mark Rutherford. The incident occurred at the most sunless and +joyless stage of Mark's career. From all his wretchedness he sought +relief in Nothing. He kept his own company, wandered about the fields, +abandoned himself to moods, and lost himself in vague and insoluble +problems. But one day a strange thing happened. 'I was walking along +under the south side of a hill, which was a great place for butterflies, +when I saw a man, apparently about fifty years old, coming along with a +butterfly net.' They soon chummed up. 'He told me that he had come seven +miles that morning to that spot, because he knew that it was haunted by +one particular species of butterfly; and, as it was a still, bright day, +he hoped to find a specimen.' At first Mark Rutherford felt a kind of +contempt for a man who could give himself up to so childish a pastime. +But, later on, he heard his story. Years before he had married a +delicate girl, of whom he was devotedly fond. She died in childbirth, +leaving him completely broken. And, by some inscrutable mystery of fate, +the child grew up to be a cripple, horribly deformed, inexpressibly +hideous, as ugly as an ape, as lustful as a satyr, and as ferocious as a +tiger! The son, after many years, died in a mad-house; and the horror of +it all nearly consigned his poor father to a similar asylum. 'During +those dark days,' he told Mark Rutherford, 'I went on _gazing gloomily +into dark emptiness_, till all life became nothing for me.' _Gazing into +emptiness_, mark you! Then there swept across this aching void of +nothingness a beautiful butterfly! It caught his fancy, interested him, +filled the gap, and saved his reason from uttermost collapse. He began +collecting butterflies. He was no longer _gazing into emptiness_. And +the moral of the incident is stated in a single sentence. 'Men should +not be too curious in analysing and condemning any means which Nature +devises to save them from themselves, whether it be coins, old books, +curiosities, fossils, or butterflies.' + +'Any means which Nature devises.' We are back to Nature again. + +'Nature abhors a vacuum'; it was at that point that we set out. + +I see now that Nature is right, after all. I can never be saved by +Nothing. The abstract will never satisfy me. I want something; aye, +more, I want _Some One_; and until I find _Him_ my restless soul calls +down all the echoing corridors of Nothingness, 'Oh that I knew _where I +might find Him_!' + + + + +VIII + +THE ANGEL AND THE IRON GATE + + +It is of no use arguing against an iron gate. There it stands--chained +and padlocked, barred and bolted--right across your path, and you can +neither coax nor cow it into yielding. So was it with Peter on the night +of his miraculous escape from prison. 'Herod,' we are told, 'killed +James with the sword, and, because he saw that it pleased the Jews, he +proceeded to take Peter also.' There he lay, 'sleeping between two +soldiers, bound with chains, whilst the keepers before the door kept the +prison.' He expected that his next visitor would be the headsman; and +whilst he waited for the _executioner_, there came an _angel_! This sort +of thing happens fairly often. They are sitting round the fire, and the +lady in the arm-chair is talking of her sailor-son. + +'Ah!' she says, 'I haven't heard of him for over a year now, and I begin +to think that I shall never hear again.' + +There is a sharp ring at the bell. She starts. + +'Something tells me,' she continues, 'that this is a message to say +that the ship is lost, and that I shall never see my boy again.' + +Even whilst she speaks the door is opened, and her last syllable is +scarcely uttered before she is folded in the sailor's arms. + +The principle holds true to the very end. It is a sick-room, and the +pale wan face of the patient looks very weary. + +'Oh, how I dread death!' she says; 'I cannot bear to think that I must +die.' + +An hour later the door of the unseen opens to her, and there stands on +the threshold, not Death, but _Life Everlasting_! + +Peter very, very often waits for the executioner, and welcomes an angel. + + +I + +During the next few moments Peter scarcely knew whether he was in the +body or out of the body. Was he alive or was he dead? Was he waking or +was he dreaming? 'He wist not that it was true which was done by the +angel, but thought he saw a vision.' He walked like a man with his head +in the clouds. Doors were opening; chains were falling; he seemed to be +living in a land of enchantment, a world of magic. But the iron gate put +an end to all illusion. 'They came to the iron gate,' and, as I said a +moment ago, an iron gate is a very difficult thing to argue with. The +iron gate represents the return to reality. After our most radiant +spiritual experiences we come abruptly to the humdrum and the +commonplace. It was Mary's Sunday evening out. Mary, you must know, is a +housemaid in a big boarding establishment, and her life is by no means +an easy one. But Mary is also a member of the Church. On Sunday she was +in her favourite seat. Perhaps it was that she was specially hungry for +some uplifting word, or perhaps it was that the message was peculiarly +suitable to her condition; but, be that as it may, the service that +night seemed to carry poor Mary to the very gate of heaven. The +Communion Service that followed completed her ecstasy, and Mary seemed +scarcely to touch the pavement with her feet as she hurried home. She +fell asleep crooning to herself the hymn with which the service closed: + + O Love, that will not let me go, + I rest my weary soul in Thee; + I give Thee back the life I owe, + That in Thine ocean depths its flow + May richer, fuller be. + +She knew nothing more until, in the chilly dark of the morning, the +alarum clock screamed at her to jump up, clean the cold front steps, +dust the great silent rooms, and light the copper-fire. 'And she came +to the iron gate.' There come points in life at which poetry merges into +the severest prose; romance yields to reality; the miracle of the open +prison is succeeded by the menace of the iron gate. + + +II + +As long as Peter had an iron gate before him, he had an angel beside +him. It was not until the iron gate had been safely negotiated that +'forthwith the angel departed from him.' Mary made a mistake when she +fancied that she had left all the glory behind her. The angel is with us +more often than we think. A devout Jew, in bidding you farewell, will +always use a plural pronoun. And if you ask for whom, besides yourself, +his blessing is intended, he will reply that it is for you and for _the +angel over your shoulder_. We are too fond of fancying that the angel is +only with us when the chains are miraculously falling from off our feet, +and when the doors are miraculously opening before our faces. We are too +slow to believe that the angel is still by our side when we emerge into +the night and come to the iron gate. It is a very ancient heathen +superstition. 'There came a man of God, and spake unto the king of +Israel, and said, Thus saith the Lord, because the Syrians have said, +"The Lord is God of the _hills_, but He is not God of the _valleys_," +therefore will I deliver all this great multitude into thine hand, and +ye shall know that I am the Lord.' We are always assuming that He is the +God of the mountaintops, and that He leaves us to thread the darksome +valleys alone; and our assumption is a cruel and unjust one. As long as +Peter had an iron gate before him, he had an angel beside him. + + +III + +The converse, however, is equally true. As long as Peter had an angel +beside him, he had an iron gate ahead of him. Angels do not walk by our +sides for fun. 'Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to +minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?' If there is an angel +by my side, depend upon it, there is work that only an angel can do in +front of me. Mary's radiant experience that Sunday evening was directly +and intimately related with the brazen yell of the alarum clock on +Monday morning. It was not intended as a mere temporary elevation of the +spirit, but as an assurance of a gracious presence--a presence that +should never be withdrawn as long as a need existed. It is part of the +infinite pathos of life that we misinterpret our visions. Jacob beheld +his staircase leading from earth to heaven, with angels ascending and +descending upon it. And straightway, as he prepared to leave, he began +to say good-bye to the angels! 'Surely,' he exclaimed, 'the Lord is in +_this place_! How dreadful is _this place_! _This_ is none other but the +house of God, and _this_ is the gate of heaven! And he called the name +of _that place_ Bethel!' And thus he missed the whole meaning of the +beatific vision. The vision was to warn him of the perils that awaited +him, and to assure him that 'behold, I am with thee in _all places_ +whither thou goest.' + +'_All places_!' said the Vision. + +'This place! _this place_! THIS PLACE!' said Jacob. + +And so he journeyed on towards his iron gate, pitifully ignorant of the +meaning of the golden dream. Life's ecstasies are warnings, +premonitions, danger-signals. Even in the experience of the Holiest, the +open heavens and the voice from the excellent glory immediately preceded +the grim struggle with the tempter in the wilderness. Paul had his +vision; he saw the Man of Macedonia; and he followed the gleam--to +bonds, stripes, and imprisonment. Bunyan knew what he was doing when he +placed the Palace Beautiful, with all its sweet hospitalities and +delightful ministries, immediately before that dark Valley of +Humiliation in which Christian struggled with Apollyon. When we hear +angels' voices speaking, when we find our fetters falling, when we see +our jail doors opening, be very sure that outside, outside, there is a +dark night and an iron gate! + + +IV + +But there is always this about it. Although the radiant vision is a +premonition of the coming struggle, it is also an augury concerning that +struggle. Opening doors are an earnest of opening gates. It is +inconceivable that I shall be miraculously delivered from my dungeon, +with its guards and its chains, and then be baulked by an iron gate out +there in the blackness of the night. It is inconceivable that here, at +the Communion Service, God should draw so near to the spirit of this +young housemaid, and then leave her to face alone the drudgery of Monday +morning. If Mary is half as wise as I take her to be, she will answer +the scream of the clock with a song. She went to bed singing; why not +get up singing? She crooned to herself on retiring the hymn that had +followed her from the Communion Table. Let her sing in the morning quite +another tune: + + His love, in time past, forbids me to think + He'll leave me at last in trouble to sink, + Each sweet Ebenezer I have in review + Confirms His good pleasure to help me quite through. + +The voice of the angel, the falling of fetters, and the opening of doors +are all designed to brace us for the dark night and the iron gate. + + +V + +'The iron gate opened to them.' Of course it did. Who could suppose that +the prison doors had been opened by angel's hands, only that the +prisoner might be caught like a rat in a trap outside? 'The iron gate +opened to them _of its own accord_.' It did look like it. During my +twelve years at Mosgiel, I often went through the great woollen factory. +The machines were marvellous--simply marvellous. As you watched the +needles slip in and out, or stood beside the loom and saw the pattern +grow, it really looked as though the things were bewitched. They seemed +to be doing it all 'of their own accord.' But one day the manager said, +'Would you care to see the power-house?' And he took me away from the +busy looms to another building altogether, and there I saw the huge +engines that drove everything. Neither looms nor needles really work 'of +their own accord.' Nor do iron gates. A few minutes after the gates had +opened, and the angel had vanished, Peter 'came to the house of Mary, +the mother of Mark, where many were gathered together praying.' And then +Peter understood by what power the iron gates had opened, just as I +understood, when I saw the engine-room, how the great looms worked. + +The prayer-meeting may not be artistic. For the matter of that I saw +very little in the power-room of the factory that appealed to the sense +of the aesthetic within me; but when angels visit prisons, and iron +gates swing open of their own accord, there must be a driving-force at +work somewhere. And Peter only discovered it when he suddenly broke in +upon a midnight prayer-meeting. + + + + +IX + +SHORT CUTS + + +We dearly love a short cut. Even in childhood we resolved the discovery +of short cuts into a kind of juvenile science. There was the gap in the +hedge, or the low part of the wall, by which we could pass, by means of +a squeeze or a clamber, into the romantic territory of our next-door +neighbour. With what fine scorn we inwardly derided the ridiculous +behaviour of our parents when, in visiting that selfsame neighbour, they +marched with solemn mien out through the front gate, along the public +highway and in through the front gate of the house next door! It took +_them_ five mortal minutes to reach a spot that, by a stoop or a bound, +_we_ could have reached in as many seconds! Then there was the dusty +track through the bush to the jetty; and the footpath across the fields +to the church. And with what wild excitement we hailed a short cut to +school! When some adventurous spirit discovered that, by going up a +certain right-of-way, and climbing a certain fence, we could approach +the school playground from a new and undreamed-of direction, our +transports knew no bounds. It was not the lazy gratification of having +invented a labour-saving device; it was the stately joy of the explorer. +Half the romance of life was bound up with those short cuts. The trysts +of courtship were kept at the stiles by which those surreptitious +footways were intersected. The most delightful walks we ever enjoyed +were the strolls along those uncharted by-paths. It may have been for +the sake of brevity and a smart passage that they were first brought +into existence; yet it was not to their brevity, in the last resort, +that they owed their peculiar charm. The gap through the hedge; the +clamber over the wall; the track through the bush to the jetty; the +footpath across the fields to the church; and the right-of-way by which +we took the school in the rear--these appealed to a certain deep human +instinct that asserted itself within us; and, dissemblers as we were, we +just made-believe that we pursued these courses in order to conserve our +energies and to save our time. + +And thus we got into the habit. Whether it was a good habit or a bad +habit depends largely upon the realm to which we applied it. In my own +case, it worked disastrously--at least at times. Since I left school, +for instance, I have always been considered good at figures. Generally +speaking, you have but to state your problem, and I can furnish you with +the solution. In business--commercial and ecclesiastical--this faculty +has served me in excellent stead. But at school it was of very little +use to me. And I find it of very little use when I undertake to coach my +children in anticipation of approaching examinations. For at school the +teacher not only propounded the problem, and received my answer; he went +another step. He asked me how I had arrived at that conclusion; and at +that stage of the ordeal I invariably collapsed. He was there to teach +me the rules; and I had as much contempt for the rules as I had for the +route by which my grave and reverend parents made their way to our +neighbour's door. I was content to squeeze through the gap or to jump +over the wall. The teacher was there to show me the road to the jetty; I +scorned the road, and approached the jetty by the track through the +bush. I could see no sense in either roads or rules if you could reach +your destination more expeditiously without them. But, to pass abruptly +from the microscopic to the magnificent, history furnishes me with a +quite dramatic and most convincing demonstration of my point. In his _Up +From Slavery_, Mr. Booker Washington illustrates this tendency again and +again. The slaves were freed. But it is one thing to be free, and quite +another thing to be worthy of the rights of freemen. With one voice the +black people cried out for education. 'This experience of a whole race +going to school for the first time presents,' says Mr. Washington, 'one +of the most interesting studies that has ever occurred in connexion with +the development of any race.' But many of the people were advanced in +years. To begin at the beginning and attain to knowledge gradually +seemed a tedious process. It was like the round-about path from our +front door to that of our next-door neighbour. The black people woke up +late to the consciousness of their racial possibilities; and, like most +people who wake up late, they spent the morning of their freedom in a +desperate hurry. Here is a young coloured man, 'sitting down in a +one-room cabin, with grease on his clothing, filth all around him, and +weeds in the yard and garden, engaged in studying a French grammar!' On +another occasion, Mr. Washington 'had to take a student who had been +studying cube-root and banking and discount and explain to him that the +wisest thing for him to do first was thoroughly to master the +multiplication-table!' There is much more to the same effect. The black +race made a frantic effort to run before it had learned to walk. 'I +felt,' says Mr. Booker Washington, 'that the conditions were a good deal +like those of an old coloured man, during the days of slavery, who +wanted to learn how to play on the guitar. In his desire to take guitar +lessons he applied to one of his young masters to teach him; but the +young man, not having much faith in the ability of the slave to master +the guitar, sought to discourage him by saying, "Uncle Jake, I will give +you guitar lessons; but, Jake, I will have to charge you three dollars +for the first lesson, two dollars for the second lesson, and one dollar +for the third lesson. But I will charge you only twenty-five cents for +the last lesson." To which Uncle Jake answered, "All right, boss, I +hires you on dem terms. But, boss, I wants yer to be sure an' give me +dat las' lesson first!"' Here we have the imposing spectacle, not by any +means destitute of pathos, of an entire race seeking to reach its +destiny by a short cut. + +But it is a mistake. For that ebullition of juvenile depravity which +disfigured my school-days I do now repent in dust and ashes. I was +wrong; there can be no doubt about that. There is a place in this world +for rules and roads as well as for gaps and tracks. I know now that my +parents were right in approaching our neighbour's door by way of the +public thoroughfare. Life has taught me, among other things, that short +cuts have their perils. It is the old story of the Gordian knot over +again. The Phrygians, as everybody knows, were in grave perplexity, and +consulted the oracle. The oracle assured them that all their troubles +would cease as soon as they chose for their king the first man they met +driving in his chariot to the temple of Jupiter. Leaving the sacred +building, they set out along the road and soon met Gordius, whom they +accordingly elected king. Gordius drove on to the temple, to return +thanks for his elevation, and to consecrate his chariot to the service +of the gods. When the chariot stood in the temple courts it was observed +that the pole was fastened to the yoke by a knot of bark so artfully +contrived that the ends could not be seen. The oracle then declared that +whosoever should untie this Gordian knot should be ruler over Asia. +Alexander the Great approached, but, finding himself unable to untie the +knot, he drew his sword and cut it. And the ancients said that it was +because he had cut the knot instead of untying it that his dominion was +so transitory and so brief. I fancy that, if we look into it a little, +we shall find that half our troubles arise from our bad habit of cutting +the knots that we ought to patiently untie. + +Take our politics, by way of example. It is much more easy to sit back +in our chairs and pour the vials of our criticism on the powers-that-be +than to make any sensible contribution to the well-being of the State. A +case in point occurs in Mark Rutherford's _Clara Hopgood_. Baruch and +Dennis are discussing those old social problems that men have discussed +since first this world began. Dennis was enlarging upon the +inequalities and iniquities of social and industrial life, when Baruch +broke in with the pertinent and practical question: 'But what would you +do for them?' + +'Ah, that beats me!' replied Dennis. 'I would hang somebody, but I don't +know who it ought to be!' + +Precisely! To _cut_ the knot with a sword is so easy--and so +ineffective; to _untie_ it is so difficult--and so rich in consequence. +The politics that consist of sentencing to summary execution statesmen +from whom we differ are within the intellectual reach of most of us; and +in that particular brand of politics, therefore, most of us occasionally +indulge. But the politics that consist in really grappling with the +knotty problems, with a view to discovering some means of ameliorating +human misery, provide us with a much more formidable task. Who has +intellect sufficiently clear, and fingers sufficiently deft, to essay +the untying of the Gordian knot? The empire of the world awaits the +coming of that patient and persistent man. + +Or look at another example. I often feel that very little of the oratory +expended on Protestant platforms really touches the mark. It gets +nowhere. The real question at issue is most pitifully begged. It may, of +course, be diplomatic to keep people well informed concerning the social +evils that thrive in Roman Catholic countries. It may, perhaps, be +permissible to emphasize the abuses that exist within the pale of the +Roman Catholic Church. But a devout and intelligent Roman Catholic, +listening to such an utterance, would, after making a reasonable +allowance for rhetorical exaggeration admit the truth of all that had +been said, and go home to weep, and, perhaps, to pray over it. Many of +those who have passed over from Protestant communions to the Roman +Catholic Church have travelled very widely and observed very closely. +They are not ignorant. Newman sobbed over the seamy side of Romanism +before he made the plunge. 'I have never disguised,' he wrote, 'that +there are actual circumstances in the Church of Rome which pain me much; +we do not look toward Rome as believing that its communion is +infallible.' Then, with his eyes wide open to all the facts on which our +orators dilate so luridly, he took the fatal step. And again he wrote, +'There is a divine life among us, clearly manifested, in spite of all +our disorders, which is as great a note of the Church as any can be.' + +Now what was that divine note? Everything hinges upon that. And unless +our Protestant speakers are prepared to face _that_ issue they may as +well remain by their own firesides, lounge in their cosiest chairs, wear +their warmest slippers, and enjoy the latest novels. It is only at this +point that sincere and groping minds can be helpfully influenced. The +whole question is one of Authority. We dearly love a lord. There is no +escaping that fundamental fact. Every day Protestant sheep stray into +Roman Catholic pastures because there they can actually see the shepherd +and actually feel his crook. The Roman Church, with its hoary +traditions, its encrusted ritual, and its antique associations, +crystallizes itself into a single voice. It possesses an enthroned +incarnation. It has a Pope. Romanism is like a pine-tree. It towers to a +pinnacle. All its branches converge upon the topmost bough. +Protestantism is like a palm. Its summit consists of a great cluster of +graceful fronds, but no one is uppermost. Romanism is the adoration of +the topmost twig. In the person of the highest official, confused ears +catch the accent of authority for which they hunger. Here they find the +music of majesty. And they nestle their aching heads in the lap of a +Church that will sternly command their trustfulness and firmly insist +upon implicit obedience. Thereafter they need think no more. 'In the +midst of our difficulties,' wrote Newman, 'I have one ground of hope, +just one stay, but, as I think, a sufficient one. It serves me in the +stead of all arguments whatever; it hardens me against criticism; it +supports me if I begin to despond; and to it I ever come round. It is +the decision of the Holy See; Saint Peter has spoken.' Here the weary +brain finds rest. Here is the Gordian knot, so trying to the fingers, +cut swiftly with a sword. Here is the discovery of a short cut that may +save the tired feet many a long and dreary trudge. + +The temptation meets us at every turn. And it is because that temptation +is so general that it figures so prominently in the Temptation in the +wilderness. He was tempted in all points like as we are; and therefore +He was tempted to take short cuts. This is the essence of that weird and +terrible story. It is notable that all the three things that Jesus was +tempted to acquire were good things, things to be desired, things that +He was destined to possess. But the whole point of the record is that He +was tempted to make His way to the bread and the angels and the kingdoms +by means of short cuts. Now this is vastly significant. It is +significant because, when you come to think of it, nearly all the things +that _we_ are tempted to acquire are good things. The temptation +consists in the suggestion that we should possess ourselves of those +good things prematurely or illicitly. We are urged to make short cuts to +our legitimate goal. Jesus was tempted to cut the Gordian knot, and to +thus obtain an immediate but fleeting hold on the objects of His just +desire. He rejected the proposal. He preferred patiently to untie the +knot, and thus to make Himself king of all kingdoms for ever and for +ever. + +Of the perils attending short cuts John Bunyan is our chief expositor. +Wherever a dangerous but alluring footpath breaks off from the +high-road, a statue of Mr. Worldly Wiseman ought to be erected. For it +was Mr. Worldly Wiseman that first got the poor pilgrim into such sore +trouble. Mr. Worldly Wiseman knew a short cut to the Celestial City. +Christian took that short cut--the footpath over the hills and through +the village of Morality--and dearly did he pay for his folly. And yet it +is difficult to blame him. Poor Christian was heavily burdened, and +every inch that could be saved was a consideration. Evangelist had +clearly directed him, it is true; but then, if Mr. Worldly Wiseman knew +a short cut, why not take it? 'Let him who has no such burden as this +poor pilgrim had cast the first stone at Christian; I cannot,' says Dr. +Alexander Whyte. 'If one who looked like a gentleman came to me to-night +and told me how I could on the spot get to a peace of conscience never +to be lost again, and how I could get a heart to-night that would never +any more plague and pollute me, I should be mightily tempted to forget +what all my former teachers had told me, and try this new gospel.' +Exactly! The temptation to cut the Gordian knot is very alluring. The +advice to get-rich-quick, or to get-good-quick, or to get-there-quick, +is very acceptable. But by his story of the short cut, and the anguish +that followed, Bunyan has taught us that the longest way round is often +the shortest way home. There is sound sense in the song that bids us +'take time to be holy.' The short cut that avoids the wicket-gate and +the Cross is merely a blind lane from which we shall return sooner or +later with blistered feet and broken hearts. + + + + +PART II + + + + +I + +THE POSTMAN + + +I must say a good word for the postman. He occupies so large a place in +most of our lives that, as a matter of common courtesy, the least we can +do is to recognize his value and importance. Others may not feel as I +do, but I confess that I bless the postman every day of my life. Not +that I am so fond of receiving letters, for I bless him with equal +fervency whether he calls or whether he passes. I know that in this +respect I am hopelessly illogical. If I am pleased to see the postmen +pass the gate, I ought, if strictly logical, to be sorry to see him +enter it. And, contrariwise, if the sight of the postman coming up the +path affords me gratification, the spectacle of his passing my gate +ought to fill me with disappointment. But I am _not_ logical, never was, +and never shall be. The best things in the world are hopelessly +illogical--motherhood for example. A mother sits in the arm-chair by the +fire, even as I write. She is chattering away to her baby. She knows +perfectly well that the baby doesn't understand a word she says. Knowing +that she would, if she were logical, give up talking to the child. But, +just because she is so hopelessly illogical, she prattles away as though +the baby could understand every word. It is a way mothers have, and we +love them all the better for it. An illogical lady is a very lovable +affair; but who ever fell in love with a syllogism? Robert Louis +Stevenson is the most lovable of all our English writers, and the most +illogical. Here is an entry from his diary, by way of illustration. 'A +little Irish girl,' he writes, 'is now reading my book aloud to her +sister at my elbow. They chuckle, and I feel flattered; anon they yawn, +and I am indifferent; such a wisely conceived thing is vanity.' Just so. +And why not? There is a higher wisdom than the wisdom of logic. If +Stevenson had been logical, he would have felt elated by the chuckles +and crushed by the yawns. But he knew better, and so do I. If the +postman passes my door, I heave a sigh of relief that I have no letters +to answer; it is almost as good as being granted a half-holiday. Am I +therefore to be angry when the postman enters the gate, and accept his +letters with a grunt? Not at all. In that case I throw my logic over the +hedge for the edification of my next-door neighbour, and feel pleased +that some of my friends are thinking of me. I greet the postman with a +smile, and try to make him feel that he has rendered me an appreciable +service, as indeed he has. + +I am writing on the hundredth anniversary of the birth of Anthony +Trollope, and I fancy that it is the thought of Trollope and his +extraordinary work that has set me scribbling about the postman. For +Trollope was much more than a novelist. He was, in a sense, the prince +of British postmen, and the forerunner of Rowland Hill and Henniker +Heaton. To a far greater extent than we sometimes dream, we owe the +efficiency of our modern postal service to Anthony Trollope. But before +he died he became the victim of serious misgivings. He feared that we +were losing the art of letter-writing. He produced a bundle of his +mother's love-letters. 'In no novel of Richardson's or Miss Burney's,' +he declared, 'is there a correspondence so sweet, so graceful, and so +well expressed. What girl now studies the words with which she shall +address her lover, or seeks to charm him with grace of diction?' And +this lamentation was penned, mark you, years and years ago, before cheap +telegrams and picture post cards had become the normal means of +communication! + +I suppose the real trouble is that we have allowed the amazing +development of our commercial correspondence to corrupt the character of +our private letter-writing. We indite all our letters in the phraseology +of the business college. We write briefly, tersely, pointedly, and, most +abominable of all, by return of post. I should like to write a separate +chapter in vigorous denunciation of the prompt reply. Private letters +should never be hastily answered. If my friend replies instantly to my +long, familiar letter, he gives me the painful impression that he wants +to be rid of me, and is unwilling to have on his mind the thought of the +letter he owes me. One of these days I shall start a new society to be +called the 'Wait a Week Society.' Its members will be solemnly pledged +to wait at least a week before replying to their private letters. There +are strong and subtle reasons for taking such a vow. First of all, +private letters should be easy, leisurely, chatty, and should only be +written when one is in the mood, or when, for some reason, the person to +whom it is addressed is specially in one's thoughts. To this, it may be +replied that one is never so much in the mood to write to a friend as +when he has just received a letter from that friend. But the argument is +fallacious. He is a very happy letter-writer indeed who can write me a +long, free, chatty letter without saying anything that will rub me the +wrong way or with which I shall disagree. During the first twenty-four +hours after receiving his letter, _those_ are the things that are most +emphatically impressed upon my mind. If I reply within twenty-four +hours, my letter to my friend will deal largely with those disputatious +and controversial points, and the inevitable result will be that _the +whole_ of my letter will grate upon him just as _part_ of his letter has +grated upon me. But if, as president of my own society, I wait a week +before replying to his letter, I shall see things in their true +perspective, and write him a long and breezy letter in which the things +that vexed me find no place at all. I am often asked, What is the +unpardonable sin? The only sin that I can never pardon is the sin of +writing angry letters. I can forgive a man for _speaking_ hastily; I +have a temper myself. But to deliberately commit one's spite to paper is +to become guilty of an amazing atrocity and to degrade at the same time +the postman's high and solemn office. + +I bless the postman because he can do for me, and do better than I could +do, so many delicate things. I regard the postman as a faithful and +indispensable assistant. It often falls to a minister's lot to approach +people, and especially young people, on the most delicate and important +subjects. Upon their decisions much of their future happiness and +usefulness will depend. I must therefore go about the business with the +utmost care. But if I go to that young man and abruptly introduce the +matter to him, I at once put him in a false position, and greatly +imperil my chance of success. We are face to face; I have spoken to him, +and he, in common decency, must speak to me. It would be a thousand +times better if, having opened my heart to him, I could withdraw before +he uttered a single word. But as it is, I have forced him into a +position in which he must say something. His judgement is not ripe, his +mind is not made up, the whole subject is new to him, and yet my +indiscretion has placed him in such a position that he is compelled to +commit himself. He must say something without due consideration; I stand +there, like a highway-robber, with my pistol pointed at his brow, and he +must give me _words_. I may not want his words immediately; and he may +wish he need not give his words immediately; but we are both the victims +of a situation which I have foolishly precipitated. He speaks; and +however he may guard his utterance, his final decision will inevitably +be compromised by those hasty and immature sentences. + +The evidence must be perfectly overwhelming that will lead a man to +reverse a decision once made. And here am I, his would-be friend and +helper, forcing him into a position from which he will find it very +difficult to extricate himself. I meant to do him good, and I have done +him incalculable harm. I meant to be his friend, and I have become his +enemy. So true is it that evil is wrought from want of thought as well +as want of heart. + +Now see how much better the postman manages the matter. I sit down at +my desk and write exactly what I want to say. I am not under any +necessity to complete a sentence until I can do so to my own perfect +satisfaction. I can pause to consider the exact word that I wish to +employ. And if, when it is written, my letter does not please me, I can +tear it up without his being any the wiser, and write it all over again. +I am not driven to impromptu utterance or careless phraseology. I am +free of the inevitable effect upon my expression produced by the +presence of another person. I am not embarrassed by the embarrassment +that he feels on being approached on so vital a theme. I am cool, +collected, leisurely, and free. And the advantages that come to me in +inditing the letter are shared by him in receiving it. He is alone, and +therefore entirely himself. He is not disconcerted by the presence of an +interviewer. He owes nothing to etiquette or ceremony. He has the +advantage of having the case stated to him as forcefully and as well as +I am able to state it. He can read at ease and in silence without the +awkward feeling that, in one moment, he must make some sort of reply. If +he is vexed at my intrusion into his private affairs, he has time to +recover from his displeasure and to reflect that I am moved entirely by +a desire for his welfare. If he is flattered at my attention, he has +time to fling aside such superficial considerations and to face the +issue on its merits. The matter sinks into his soul; becomes part of his +normal life and thought; and, by the time we meet, he is prepared to +talk it over without embarrassment, without personal feeling, and +without undue reserve. In such matters--and they are among the most +important matters with which a minister is called to deal--the postman +is able to render me invaluable assistance. + +There is something positively sacramental about the postman. For the +letters that he carries have no value in themselves; they are simply +paper and ink. They are precious only so far as they reveal the heart of +the sender to the heart of the receiver. Here, for instance, is a letter +for a young lady. She is at the door before the bell has ceased its +ringing. She greets the postman with a smile, and blushes as she glances +at the familiar handwriting. As soon as the postman has closed the gate +after him, she hurries down to the summer-house, her favourite retreat, +to read her letter. But she is not alone. Bruno, her big collie, goes +bounding after his mistress. She reads the first pages of the letter, +and allows the sheet to slip from her lap to the ground, whilst she +proceeds to devour the following pages. And as the fluttering missive +lies upon the floor of the summer-house, Bruno examines it. A dog's eyes +are sharper than a girl's eyes; yet how little the dog sees! He sees a +piece of white paper covered with black marks--sees perhaps more in that +respect than she does--yet he sees nothing, and less than nothing, for +all that. For she sees, not the black marks on the white paper, but the +very heart of one who worships her. She is gazing so intently into the +soul of her lover that she does not notice whether the 't's' are +crossed, or the 'i's' dotted. To her the letter is a sacramental thing; +its value lies not in itself, but in the revelation that it makes to +her. + +And it is because the postman spends his whole life among just such +sacramental things that we welcome and honour him. We have an amiable +way of transferring to the messenger the welcome that we accord to the +message. Jessie Pope describes the joy of a mother on receiving a wire +from her soldier-boy that he will soon be back again from the front. + + '_Home at six-thirty to-day._' + Oh, what a tumult of joy! + Growing suspense flies away, + God bless that telegraph-boy! + +_God bless that telegraph-boy!_ Exactly. And that is why we honour the +postman. The messenger always shares in the welcome given to the message +How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good +tidings, that publisheth peace! We ministers often share in the +postman's benediction. We are welcomed and honoured and loved, not so +much for our own sake as for the sake of the great, glad message that we +bear. The heart leaps up to the message and blesses the messenger. God +bless the telegraph-boy! God bless the postman! + + + + +II + +CRYING FOR THE MOON + + +Let it be distinctly understood that nothing that I shall now say is +addressed to the crowd. To the crowd it would probably do more harm than +good. It is intended only for a single individual; and he, I think, will +understand. I am told that there is a unique secret by means of which a +wireless message from the British Navy can be transmitted to the +Admiralty Office without risk of interception. At the Admiralty a +superlatively sensitive and superlatively secret instrument is most +carefully attuned to the instrument of the battleship from which the +message is expected. Then, when all is ready, every wireless operator in +the Grand Fleet pulls out all the stops and bangs on all the keys of his +instrument, and the inevitable result is the creation of a din that is +almost deafening to all listeners at ordinary receivers. But through the +crash and the tumult the specially delicate instrument at the Admiralty +Office can distinctly hear its mate, and the priceless syllables +penetrate the thunder of senseless sound without the slightest loss or +leakage. I am about to attempt a similar experiment. I have a message +for a certain man. It is important that he, and he alone, should get it. +It would do untold damage if it were heard at other receivers. Let him +therefore take some pains to attune his instrument to mine. + +Now it is usual, and it is altogether good, to encourage people to +entertain lofty ambitions, high ideals, and great expectations. It is a +most necessary injunction, and I have not a word to say against it. It +stirs the blood like a trumpet-blast. It rouses us like a challenge. +But, however excellent the medicine may be, it cannot be expected to +suit every ailment. No one drug is a panacea for all our human ills. And +even the stimulating tonic to which I have referred does not at all meet +the need of the man for whom I am now prescribing. John Sheergood is a +friend of mine, and a really capital fellow. But I should not call him a +happy man. His trouble is that his ambitions are too lofty, his +expectations too great, and his ideals, in a sense, too high. He is +crying for the moon, and breaking his heart because he can't get it. I +am profoundly sorry for this morbid friend of mine, and should dearly +like to comfort him. His ideal is perfection, nothing less; and whenever +he falls short of it he is in the depths of despair. If, as a student, +he entered for a competition, he felt that he was in disgrace unless he +secured the very first place. If he sat for an examination, he counted +every mark short of the coveted hundred per cent. as an indelible stain +upon his character. He is in abject misery unless he can strike twelve +at every hour of the day. I both admire him and pity him at the same +time. His parents once told me that when he was a very small boy he +contracted measles. The illness went hardly with him, and left him frail +and debilitated. The doctor ordered a prolonged holiday by the seaside, +with plenty of good food, plenty of fresh air, and, above all, plenty of +bathing. He was only a little fellow, and when he approached the +bathing-sheds for the first time his father accompanied him. + +'I don't want to go in, dad,' he cried appealingly; 'it's cold, and I'm +cold, and I don't like it!' + +'It will make you grow up into a big man, sonny!' his father replied +persuasively. + +Now this touched Jack on a very tender spot, for, although his father +was tall, and he himself cherished an inordinate admiration for tall +men, he was himself almost ridiculously small. He had several times +contrasted himself with other small boys of the same age, and had felt +shockingly humiliated. + +'Will it really, dad; honour bright?' he asked anxiously, carefully +scrutinizing his father's face. + +'It will indeed, sonny; that is why the doctor ordered it.' + +Poor little Jack submitted with a wry face to the process of disrobing, +and, with a shiver, bravely approached the water. Summoning all his +reserves of courage, he waded in until the water was up to his knees, to +his waist, and at last to his neck. The excruciating part of the ordeal +was by this time over; and, for the sake of the benefit so confidently +promised him, he tolerated the caress of the waves for the next five +minutes. Then he rushed out of the water. As soon as he was beyond the +reach of the foam he stopped abruptly, surveyed himself carefully from +top to toe, and straightway burst into tears. His mother, who was +sitting knitting on the beach, at once ran to his assistance. + +'Why, whatever's the matter, Jack? What are you crying for?' + +'Oh, mum, just look how wee I am! And dad said that if I went into the +water it would make a big man of me!' + +He has often since joined in the laugh, whenever the story of his +childish adventure has been related in his hearing. But it is worth +recording as being so eminently characteristic of him. He has never +outgrown that boyish peculiarity. He is always setting his heart on +instantaneous maturity. He seems to think that the world should have +been built on a sort of Jack-and-the-beanstalk principle. He is +continually sowing seeds overnight, and feeling depressed if he cannot +gather the fruit as soon as he wakes in the morning. Many of us have +watched the Indian conjurer sow the seed of a mango-tree; throw a cloth +over the pot; mutter mysterious charms and incantations; and then hit +the cloth. And, behold, a full-grown mango-tree! He replaces the cloth, +mutters further incantations, again removes the covering, and, lo, the +mango-tree is in full flower! And when a third time he uncovers the +plant, the mango-tree stands forth, every bough freighted with a heavy +load of fruit! I have no idea as to how the trick is done. I only know +that poor John Sheergood seems to be everlastingly lamenting the +misfortune that ordained him to any existence other than that of an +Indian conjurer. He is grievously disappointed, not because he was born +with no silver spoon in his mouth, but because he was born with no magic +wand in his hand. His mango-trees come to fruition very, very slowly. +John believes in quick returns and lightning changes; and he is +irritated and annoyed by the tardiness of that old-fashioned process +called growth. It is good for a man to have lofty ideals; but I am sure +that John Sheergood would be a happier man, and make us all more happy, +if he would only break himself of his inveterate habit of crying for the +moon. + +In justice to John I am bound to say that, as on the sands years ago, +his principal disappointment is with himself. I have done my best to +persuade him that a man should be infinitely patient with himself. +Nothing is to be gained by getting out of temper with yourself. You may +scold yourself and scourge yourself unmercifully; but I doubt if it does +much good. A man must win his self-respect; and you can only learn to +respect yourself by being very gentle and very considerate and very +patient with yourself. A man's self-culture is his first and principal +charge; and he will never succeed unless he both loves himself and +treats himself lovingly. A man should be as gentle with himself as a +gardener is with his orchids; as a nurse is with her patient; as a +mother is with her troublesome child. A gardener who lost all patience +with his delicate plants; a nurse who treated her poor patient +peevishly; or a mother who met ill-temper with ill-temper could only +expect to fail. I have urged John Sheergood to treat himself with a +softer hand, and to greet himself with a smile. I lent him Henry +Drummond's lovely essay on _The Lilies_, taking the precaution, before +doing so, to underline the following sentences: 'Growth must be +spontaneous. A boy not only grows without trying, but he cannot grow if +he tries. The man who struggles in agony to grow makes the church into a +workshop when God meant it to be a beautiful garden.' There is a good +deal in the chapter that will have a special interest for my poor +self-castigated friend. + +But, although his lash falls principally upon his own back, he is not +the only sufferer. I shall never forget when, as a young fellow, he +joined the church. His conversion was a very radiant experience, and, in +the ecstasy of it all, he formed a brightly rose-tinted conception of +what the fellowship of the church must be. The idea of being admitted to +the society of numbers of people as happy as himself! They would be able +to tell of experiences as glorious as his own; they would be sure to +congratulate him on his inexpressible joy, and to help him in relation +to the difficulties that beset his daily path. They would encourage him +by their sympathy and stimulate him by their example. Their conversation +would illumine for him the sacred page; their vivid testimonies to +answered prayer would give him greater confidence in approaching the +Throne of Grace; the very atmosphere that he expected to breathe would, +he felt sure, inflame his own devotion to the highest and holiest +things. + +He has often since told me of his disillusionment. It happened to be a +wet night when he was received into membership, and there were fewer +members present than were usually there. As soon as the service was over +they broke up into knots. He overheard one group discussing a wedding; +and heard a man with a strident voice say that it was a beastly night to +be out without an umbrella. But nobody took any notice of John, and he +left the building. To complete his discomfiture he mistook the step as +he passed out of the church and stumbled awkwardly into the street. 'The +whole thing was an awful come-down,' he told me afterwards, 'the +greatest surprise I had ever known. I felt as if the bottom had dropped +out of everything.' He got over it, of course; and learned by happy +experience that the people who treated him so coyly on that memorable +night are not half as bad as they seemed. Many of them are now among his +dearest and most intimate friends; whilst even with the man who growled +at the weather he has since spent some really delightful times. One of +the oddest things in life is the dread that some people feel of +appearing as good as they really are. And John has found out now that, +in spite of the cold douche administered to him that night, there is in +the church a glow of genuine enthusiasm and a wealth of spirituality +that in those days he never suspected. But it did not reveal itself all +at once. The best things never do. And because the church did not put on +her beautiful garments as soon as he entered, John was mortified and +confounded. He felt just as he felt that day on the sands when he +discovered with disgust that, under the spell of the sea, he had not +immediately assumed gigantic proportions. As I say, he has got over it +now, and smiles at it, just as he smiles when his adventure by the +seaside is recounted. + +He was a great favourite in the church, but his ingrained peculiarity +betrayed itself with unfailing regularity in one particular direction. +Oddly enough, in view of his own experience, he was a little severe with +new members. I do not mean that he treated them coldly or distantly; +nobody was more genial. But he expected too much of them. He was +disappointed unless the convert of yesterday proved himself the +full-blown saint of to-day. To satisfy him, they had to be raw recruits +one day and hardened veterans the next. It was merely another phase of +his Jack-and-the-beanstalk philosophy. It was the magician and the +mango-tree over again. In a way it was very fine to see how he grieved +over the slightest lapse on the part of these new members. The smallest +inconsistency in their behaviour filled him with remorse, and he was +afflicted with the gravest suspicions as to our wisdom in welcoming such +people into fellowship. He failed, it seemed to me, to distinguish +between the raw material and the finished article. The Church evidently +had some very raw material in her membership when the Pauline Epistles +were written; and it is a mercy for John that he was not born some +centuries earlier. + +John afterwards left us and entered the ministry. We were exceedingly +sorry to lose him. A man more generally honoured, respected, and beloved +I have seldom seen. The church was distinctly poorer after he left, +although we were all glad that he had given himself to so great a work. +But he carried his old characteristic up the pulpit steps with him. He +has often told me the story of that first sermon and the way it was +received. Such confidences between one minister and another are sacred, +and I shall not betray this one. But I never hear John refer to that +experience without thinking of Mark Rutherford. In his Autobiography, +Mark Rutherford tells how, on settling at his first pastorate, he put +all his soul into his first sermon. He was elated by the solemnity and +grandeur of his calling, and spoke out of the very depths of his heart. +'After the service was over,' he says, 'I went down into the vestry. +Nobody came near me but the chapel-keeper, who _said that it was +raining_, and immediately went away to put out the lights and shut up +the building. I had no umbrella, and there was nothing for it but to +walk home in the wet. When I got to my lodgings I found that my supper, +consisting of bread and cheese, was on the table, but there was no fire. +I was overwrought, and paced about for hours in hysterics. All that I +had been preaching seemed the merest vanity.' And so on. John +Sheergood's experience was not unlike it. It was the sudden descent from +the glowingly romantic ideal to the brutally prosaic reality. It nearly +killed John just as it nearly killed Mark Rutherford. But he is getting +over it. He is learning gradually, I think, that a minister can only get +the best out of his people by being very patient with them, just as the +people can only get the best out of their minister by being very patient +with him. The world has evidently been built that way. Jack and the +beanstalk is only a fairy-story and the mango-tree is a piece of +Oriental trickery; there is no room for such prodigies in a world like +this. Like the lilies, we begin in a very modest way, and grow very +slowly; we must therefore exercise infinite patience with each other. I +have fancied lately that some inkling of this has at length entered into +the mind even of John Sheergood, and he has seemed a very much happier +man in consequence. + + + + +III + +OUR LOST ROMANCES + + +There are few days in a girl's life more critical than the day on which +the sawdust streams from the mangled carcase of her dearest doll. It is +a day of bitter disillusionment, a day in which a philosophy of some +kind is painfully born. The doll came into the home amidst all the +excitements of a birthday. It was instantly invested with every +attribute of personality. The task of naming it was as solemn a function +as the business of naming a baby. And when the choice had been made, and +the name selected, that name was as unalterable as though it had been +officially recorded at Somerset House. By that name it was greeted with +delight every morning; by that name it was hushed to sleep every night; +by that name it was introduced to other dolls, as well as to less +important people; and by that name it was addressed a hundred times a +day. The doll has suffered accidents and illnesses after the fashion of +fleshier folk; but such misadventures, as is the way with humans, has +only rendered her more dear. But now an accident has happened, +surpassing in seriousness all previous misfortunes. The thing has come +to pieces! The girl has a shapeless rag in her hand; the floor is all +powdered with sawdust; and her face is a spectacle for men and angels. I +say again that this is an extremely critical day in a girl's life, and +upon the way in which she negotiates this passage in her history a good +deal will eventually depend. + +I do not quite know why I have made the feminine element so prominent in +my introduction. Boys are just the same. They affect to deride a girl's +ridiculous weakness in cherishing so great a tenderness for a doll; but, +for all their supercilious airs, they have illusions of their own. Dr. +Samuel Johnson has told us how, as a boy, he consulted the oracle as to +his future fortunes. If some issue were hanging in the balance--a game +to be played, or an examination to be taken--he would endeavour to wrest +from the unseen the secret that it held. He would note a particular +stick or stone on the path before him; and then, with face turned +skywards, he would walk towards it. If he trod on the object which he +had chosen, he took it as a sign that he would win the game or pass the +examination that was causing him such uneasiness. If, on the other hand, +he stepped clean over it, he interpreted it as a sinister prediction of +disaster. Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes confesses to a similar weakness. 'As +for all manner of superstitious observances,' says the autocrat of the +Breakfast Table, 'I used to think I must have been peculiar in having +such a list of them; but I now believe that half the children of the +same age go through the same experience. No Roman soothsayer ever had +such a catalogue of omens as I found in the Sibylline leaves of my +childhood. That trick of throwing a stone at a tree and attaching some +mighty issues to hitting or missing, which you will find mentioned in +one or more biographies, I well remember.' And Dr. Holmes goes on to +give us a good deal more in the same strain. + +But, although they do not record it, there must have come to both Dr. +Johnson and Dr. Holmes a day very similar to that on which the sawdust +streamed from the mutilated doll. What about the day on which young +Samuel Johnson, his scrofulous face and screwed-up eyes turned skywards, +strode along the path towards the selected talisman, stepped plump upon +it, and then lost the game that followed after all? And what about the +day on which young Oliver Wendell Holmes, impatiently awaiting his +father's return from Boston, wondered if his parent would bring him the +pocket-knife for which he had so long and loudly clamoured? But there, +not fifty yards away, was a tree; and here, at his feet, was a stone. +'If I hit it, he'll bring it; if I miss it, he won't!' he cried; and, +taking more than usually careful aim, he threw the stone, and missed! +But the pocket-knife was in his father's handbag all the same! Boys or +girls, men or women, it matters not; there come into our lives great and +memorable days when we have to take farewell of our illusions. Our +romances leave us. There comes a Christmas Day on which, to our +uttermost bewilderment, we discover the secret history of Santa Claus. +And very much will depend upon the way in which we face such sensational +and eye-opening experiences. + +We go through life leaving these shattered romances behind us. Our track +is marked by the spatter of burst bubbles. What then? And in answer to +that 'What then?' the obvious temptation is the temptation to cynicism. +Since the doll has turned out to be a mere matter of sawdust and rags, +since the talisman on the footpath told a lie, since the oracle of tree +and stone deceived us, we make up our minds to fling to the scrap-heap +such cherished beliefs as we still retain. We go in for a severe weeding +out of everything that is imaginative, everything that is mystical, +everything that is romantic. Life resolves itself into a dreary +wilderness of matter-of-fact, an arid desert of common sense. Dr. Oliver +Wendell Holmes was wiser. Referring to his oracular stone-throwing and +the rest of it, he says, 'I won't swear that I have not some tendency to +these unwise practices even at this present date. With these follies +mingled sweet delusions, which I loved so well that I would not outgrow +them, even when it required a voluntary effort to put a momentary trust +in them.' It is a pity to sweep all our rainbow-tinted romances out of +life simply because one of them has been reduced to the terms of rag and +sawdust. + +There stands before me as I write Sir John Millais' great picture of +'Bubbles.' Both the picture and the experience that it portrays are +wonderfully familiar. The curly head; the upturned face; the entire +absorption of the little bubble-blower in the shining balls that he is +hurling into space; the half-formed hope that this one, at least, may +not sputter out and become an unbeautiful splash of soapsuds on the +floor; the wistful half-expectancy that now, at last, he has created a +lovely globe that shall float on and on, like a little fairy-world, for +ever and for evermore. It is all in the picture, as every beholder has +observed; and it is all in life. It is the first tragedy of infancy; it +is the last tragedy of age. Bubbles; bubbles; bubbles; and yet what +would the world be without bubbles? They burst, of course; but we are +the happier for having blown them! Our dreams may never come true; but +it's lovely to dream! Illusions are part of life's treasure-trove. When +they go, they leave nothing behind them. When we lose them, we lose +everything. It is almost better to become criminal than to become +cynical. To be criminal implies an evil hand; but to be cynical reveals +a very evil heart. It is a thousand times better to be blowing bubbles +that, though fragile, are very fair than to move sulkily about the world +telling all the blowers of bubbles that their beautiful bubbles must +burst. 'I want to forget!' cried the poor little 'Lady of the +Decoration.' 'I want to begin life again as a girl with a few +illusions!' Every fool knows that bubbles must burst. The man who feels +it necessary to tell this to everybody proves, not that he possesses the +gift of prophecy, but that he lacks the saving grace of common sense. +The world would clearly be very much the poorer, and not one scrap the +richer, if no bubbles were left in it. It is altogether wholesome to +have a fair stock of illusions. + +But at this point two serious questions press for answer. If illusions +are so good, why do they fail us? Why are our bubbles permitted to +burst? The question answers itself. If all the bubbles that had ever +been blown were still floating about the world, there would be nothing +so commonplace as bubbles. That is why the era of miracles ceased. It +was a very romantic phase in the Church's childhood, and it answers to +the superstitious element in our own. But we may easily exaggerate its +value. If the age of miracles had been indefinitely lengthened, the +effect would have been the same as if all the bubbles became +everlasting. If all the bubbles that had ever been blown were with us +still, who to-day would want to blow bubbles? And if miracles had once +become commonplace, their charm and significance would have instantly +vanished. 'I am persuaded,' Martin Luther sagely declares, 'that if +Moses had continued his working of miracles in Egypt for two or three +years, the people would have been so accustomed thereunto, and would +have so lightly esteemed them, that they would have thought no more of +the miracles of Moses than we think of the sun or the moon.' It would +not be hard to prove that even the miracles of the New Testament tended +to lose their effect. The amazement of the disciples at beholding what +they took to be a ghost on the water is attributed to the fact that +'they considered not the miracle of the loaves' which had taken place a +few hours earlier. A miracle was already so much a matter of course that +the memory no longer treasured it as something phenomenal. No pains were +taken to investigate its significance. It would have been a tragedy +unspeakable if the miraculous element in the faith had become +universally contemptible. As the eagle carefully builds the nest in +which her eaglets are to see the light, and afterwards as carefully +destroys it so that they may be forced to fly, so our illusions are +made for our enjoyment, and then dashed to pieces under our very eyes. +Our childhood was enriched beyond calculation by the fine romances that +gave it such bright colours; and, in exactly the same way, the childhood +of the Church was glorified by the wonder-workings of a Hand Invisible. + +And the other question is this: What shall we do when our illusions +leave us? When the doll turns out to be sawdust and rag, when the +youthful oracle speaks falsely, when the bubble bursts, what then? And +again the answer is obvious. Why, to be sure, if one romance fails us, +we must get a better, that is all! Any man who has not been soured by +cynicism will confess that the romantic tints in the skein of life have +deepened, rather than faded, as the years passed on. Surely, surely, the +romance of youth was a lovelier thing than the romance of childhood! +When a girl feels how silly it is to play with dolls, she begins to +think of other things that will more appreciate her fondling. When a boy +sees that it is senseless to throw stones at trees as a means of +deciding his destiny, he takes to tossing precious stones and pretty +trinkets in quite other directions, but with pretty much the same end in +view. And so the romance of life--if life be well managed--increases +with the years, until, by the time we become grandfathers and +grandmothers, the world seems too wonderful for us, and we stand and +gaze bewildered at all its abounding surprises. Everything depends on +filling up the gaps. As soon as the sawdust streams out of the doll, as +soon as the futility of the oracle stands exposed, we must make haste to +fill the vacant place with something better. + +Long, long ago there were a few Jewish Christians who felt just as a +girl feels when the component parts of her dearest doll suddenly fall +asunder, just as Samuel Johnson felt when the talisman prophesied +falsely, just as Oliver Wendell Holmes felt when he saw that he could +trust his oracle no more. They felt--those Hebrew believers--that +everything had gone from them. 'To how great splendour,' says Dr. Meyer, +'had they been accustomed--marble courts, throngs of white-robed +Levites, splendid vestments, the state and pomp of symbol, ceremonial +and choral psalm! And to what a contrast were they reduced--a meeting in +some hall, or school, with the poor, afflicted, and persecuted members +of a despised and hated sect!' But the writer of the epistle addressed +to them makes it his--or her--principal aim to point out that it is all +a mistake. Just as a girl's richest romance follows upon the +disillusionment of the terrible sawdust, so the wealthiest spiritual +heritage of these Jewish Christians comes to them in place of the things +that they were inclined to lament. 'For,' says the writer, 'ye have +come unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly +Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, to the general +assembly and church of the firstborn, which are written in heaven, and +to God the Judge of all and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and +to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of +sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel.' And whoever +finds himself the heir of so fabulous a wealth can well afford to smile +at all his earlier disappointments. + + + + +IV + +A FORBIDDEN DISH + + +I + +I was at Wedge Bay. It was raining. Wondering what I should do, I +remembered the great caves along the shore. For ages the waves had been +at work scooping out for me a place of refuge for such a day as this. I +put on my coat, slipped a novel in the pocket, and set off along the +sands. I soon found a sheltered spot in which I was able to defy the +weather, and to watch the waves or read my book just as the fancy took +me. As a matter of fact, I had not much to read. The book was Sir Walter +Scott's _Kenilworth_, and the bookmark was already near the end. I read +therefore until, in the very climax of the tragic close, I suddenly came +upon a text. Or perhaps it was less a text than a reference to a text, +casually uttered in a moment of great excitement by one of the principal +characters in the story. But it acted on my mind as the lever at the +switch acts upon the oncoming railway train. In a flash, the novel and +all its thrilling interest were left far behind, and I was flying along +an entirely new track. And here are the words that so adroitly changed +the current of my thought: + +'"Oh, if there be judgement in heaven, thou hast well deserved it," said +Foster, "and wilt meet it! Thou hast destroyed her by means of her best +affections--_it is a seething of the kid in the mother's milk_."' + +Almost involuntarily I closed the book, slipped it back into my pocket, +and sat looking out to sea lost in a brown but interesting study. + + +II + +_'Thou shalt not seethe a kid in his mother's milk!'_ The striking +prohibition occurs three times--twice in the Book of Exodus, and once in +the Book of Deuteronomy. I do not know on what principle we assess the +relative value and importance of texts; but, surely, a great +commandment, thrice emphatically reiterated, ought not to be treated as +beneath our notice. I find that the interdict applies primarily to an +ancient Eastern custom. All nations have their own idea as to the +special delicacy of certain viands. We British people fancy lamb and +sucking-pig, and feel no shame in destroying the tiny creatures as soon +as they are born. The predilection of the Arab was for a new-born kid; +and when he wished to adorn his table with a particularly toothsome +morsel, it was his habit to serve up the kid boiled in milk taken from +the mother. It was against this favourite and familiar dish that the +stern and repeated prohibition was launched. I do not know if there was +any practical or utilitarian reason, based on hygienic or medical +grounds, for the emphatic decree. Perhaps, or perhaps not. Some of the +old commandments relating to animals seem to have been framed for no +other purpose than to inculcate a certain gentleness and courtesy in our +attitude towards these poorer relatives of ours. 'Thou shalt not kill a +cow and her calf on the same day'; 'Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that +treadeth out the corn'; and so on. It is difficult to see any real +reason why the ewe and her lamb, or the cow and her calf, should not go +to the shambles together. But it was strictly forbidden. And similarly, +'_Thou shalt not seethe a kid in his mother's milk_.' The finer feelings +are certainly shocked at the thought of the cow and the calf going +together to the slaughter, and at the idea of boiling the newly born and +newly slain kid in the milk of its mother; and the most obvious moral +seems to be that we are not to treat the creatures of the field and the +forest in any way that grates and jars upon those finer instincts. As I +sat watching the foam playing with the strands of seaweed, it seemed to +me that, if ever I am asked to preach in support of the Society for the +Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, I should have here a theme all ready +to my hand. And I felt glad that I had read _Kenilworth_. + + +III + +But the prohibition goes much farther than that. It enshrines a +tremendous principle, a principle that is nowhere else so clearly +stated. Sir Walter Scott evidently saw that; and no exposition could be +clearer than his. The circumstances were, briefly, these. The Countess +of Leicester was a prisoner. Just outside her room at the castle was a +trapdoor. It was supported by iron bolts; but it was so arranged that +even if the bolts were drawn, the trapdoor would still be held in its +place by springs. Yet the weight of a mouse would cause it to yield and +to precipitate its burden into the vault below. Varney and Foster +decided to draw these bolts so that, if the Countess attempted to +escape, the trap would destroy her. Later on, Foster heard the tread of +a horse in the court-yard, and then a whistle similar to that which was +the Earl's usual signal. The next moment the Countess's chamber opened, +and instantly the trapdoor gave way. There was a rushing sound, a heavy +fall, a faint groan, and all was over! At the same instant Varney called +in at the window, 'Is the bird caught? Is the deed done?' Deep down in +the vault Foster could see a heap of white clothes, like a snowdrift. It +flashed upon him that the noise that he had heard was not the Earl's +signal at all, but merely Varney's imitation, designed to deceive the +Countess and lure her to her doom. She had rushed out to welcome her +husband, and had miserably perished. In his indignation, Foster turned +upon Varney. 'Oh, if there be judgement in heaven, thou hast deserved +it,' he said, 'and wilt meet it! Thou hast destroyed her by means of her +best affections. _It is a seething of the kid in the mother's milk!_' + +At that touchstone the inner meaning of the interdict stands revealed. +The mother's milk is Nature's beautiful provision for the life and +sustenance of the kid. Thou shalt not pervert that which was intended to +be a ministry of life into an instrument of destruction. The wifely +instinct that led the Countess to rush forth to welcome her lord was one +of the loveliest things in her womanhood, and Varney used it as the +agency by which he destroyed her. She was lured to her doom by means of +her best affections. Charles Lamb points out, in his _Tales from +Shakespeare_, that Iago compassed the death of the fair Desdemona in +precisely the same way. 'So mischievously did this artful villain lay +his plots to turn the gentle qualities of this innocent lady into her +destruction and make a net for her out of her own goodness to entrap +her!' It is this that the prohibition forbids. Thou shalt not take the +most sacred things in life and apply them to base and ignoble ends. +_Thou shalt not seethe a kid in his mother's milk._ + + +IV + +The possibilities of application are simply infinite. There is nothing +high and holy that cannot be converted into an engine of destruction. A +girl is fond of music. The impulse is a lofty and admirable one. But it +may easily be used to lure her away from the best things into a life of +frivolity, voluptuousness, and sensation. A boy is fond of Nature. He +loves to climb the mountain, row on the river, or scour the bush. +Nothing could be better. But if it leads him to forsake the place of +worship, to forget God, to fling to the winds the faith of his boyhood, +and to settle down to a life of animalism and materialism, he has been +destroyed by means of his best affections. Or take our love of society +and of revelry. There are few things more enjoyable than to sit by the +fireside, or on the beach, with a few really congenial companions, to +talk, and tell stories, and recall old times; to laugh, to eat, and to +drink together. Talking and laughing and eating and drinking seem +inseparable at such times. And yet out of that human, and therefore +divine, impulse see the evils that arise! Look at our great national +drink curse, with its tale of squalor and misery and shame! Did these +men mean to be drunkards when first they entered the gaily lit bar-room? +Nothing was farther from their minds. They were following a true +instinct--the desire for companionship and congenial society. They have +been lured to their doom, like Sir Walter Scott's heroine, by means of +their best affections. + + +V + +And what about Love? Love is a lovely thing, or why should we be so fond +of love-stories? The love of a man for a maid, and the love of a maid +for a man, are surely among the very sweetest and most sacred things in +life. No story is so fascinating as the story of a courtship. And that +is good, altogether good. Every man who has won the affection of a true, +sweet, beautiful girl feels that a new sanction has entered into life. +He is conscious of a new stimulus towards purity and goodness. And every +girl who has won the heart of a good, brave, great-hearted man feels +that life has become a grander and a holier thing for her. As +Shakespeare says: + + Indeed I know + Of no more subtle master under heaven + Than is the maiden passion for a maid, + Not only to keep down the base in man, + But to teach high thoughts and amiable words, + And courtliness, and the desire for fame, + And love of truth, and all that makes a man. + +Lord Lytton illustrates this magic force in his _Last Days of Pompeii_. +He tells us that Glaucus, the Athenian, 'had seen Ione, bright, pure, +unsullied, in the midst of the gayest and most profligate gallants of +Pompeii, charming rather than awing the boldest into respect, and +changing the very nature of the most sensual and the least ideal as, by +her intellectual and refining spells, she reversed the fable of Circe, +and converted the animals into men.' Here, then, is something altogether +good. It is clearly designed to minister new life to all who come +beneath its spell. And yet the sordid fact remains that, through the +degradation of this same high and holy impulse, thousands of young +people make sad shipwreck. + + +VI + +But of all things designed to minister life to the world, the Cross is +the greatest and most awful. Its possibilities of regeneration are +simply infinite; and in its case the danger is therefore all the +greater. 'We preach Christ crucified,' wrote Paul, 'unto the Jews a +stumbling-block, and unto the Greeks foolishness, but unto them which +are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom +of God.' It is the most urgent and insistent note of the New Testament +that a man may convert into the instrument of his condemnation and +destruction that awful sacrifice which was designed for his redemption. +It is the sin of sins; the sin unpardonable; the sin so impressively +forbidden by that ancient and thrice reiterated commandment whose +significance Sir Walter Scott pointed out to me in the cave by the side +of the sea. + + + + +V + +AN OLD MAID'S DIARY + + +_Christmas Eve, 1973._ Christmas-time once more! The season strangely +stirs the memory, and the ghosts of Christmases long gone by haunt my +solitary soul to-night. Somehow, a feeling creeps over me that this +Christmas will be my last. Am I sorry? Yes, one cannot help feeling +sorry, for life is very sweet. On the whole, I have been happy, and +have, I think, done good. But oh, the loneliness! And every year has +made it more unbearable. The friends of my girlhood have married, or +gone away, or died, and each Christmas has made this desperate +loneliness more hard to endure. Did God mean women to come into the +world, to feel as I have felt, to long as I have longed, and then, after +all, to die as I must die? None of the things for which women seem to be +made have come to me. And now I have no husband to shelter me; no +daughters to close my eyes; no tall sons to bear this poor body to its +burial. I have pretended to satisfy myself by mothering other people's +children; but it was cruel comfort, and often only made my heart to ache +the more. And now it is nearly over; I have come to my very last +Christmas. I have always loved to sit by the fire for a few minutes +before lighting the lamp; and to-night as I do so something reminds me +of the old days long gone by. + +This little room, neat and cosy, but so quiet and so lonely, somehow +brings back to my mind a dream that I had as a girl. Was it one dream, +or was it several? Dear me, how the memory begins to piece it all +together when once it gets a start! I wonder if I can trace it in my +journal? I have always kept a journal--just for company. It runs into +several big volumes now, and the handwriting has strangely altered with +the years. I shall tear them all up and burn them to-morrow; it will be +one way of spending my last Christmas! I have said things to this old +journal of mine that a woman could not say to any soul alive. It has +done me good just to tell these old books all about it. But my dream or +dreams; when did they come? It must be sixty years ago, although, +despite my loneliness, it really does not seem so long. But it can be no +less, for it was in the days of the Great War. The war broke out in +1914--I was eighteen then!--but my dream came months afterwards when +things were at their worst. It must have been in 1915. I remember that I +had been watching the men in khaki. Everybody seemed to be going to the +front. My brothers went; the tradesmen who called for orders; the men +who served us in the shops; everybody was enlisting. All our menfolk had +become soldiers. And, thinking about all this, I dreamed. I wonder if I +entered it in my journal? And, if so, I wonder if I can find it? Yes; +here it is. Ah, I thought so. It was a series of dreams; night after +night for a week, Sunday alone excepted. I don't know why no dream came +on Sunday. I will copy these six entries here, so that I can destroy the +old volumes with their secrets without making an end of this. The dreams +began on Monday. + + * * * * * + +_Tuesday, October 5, 1915._ I had such a strange dream last night. I +thought I was at the front. Whether I was a nurse or not I have no idea; +but you never know such things in dreams. Anyhow, I was there. I saw +Fred and Charlie in the trenches as plainly as I have ever seen +anything, and Tom the butcher-boy, and the young fellow who used to +bring the groceries. And with them, and evidently on the best of terms +with them, I saw a tall fellow with fair hair--such a gentlemanly +fellow!--and after I had seen him I seemed to have no eyes for the +others. If I looked to Fred, he only pointed to the boy with the fair +hair. If I turned to Charlie, he nodded to the lad with the fair hair. +Tom and the grocer's assistant did the same. And then the fellow with +the fair hair looked up, and I saw his face--such a handsome face! He +smiled--such a lovely smile!--and I felt myself blush. My confusion +awoke me; and I knew it was a dream. + + +_Wednesday, October 6, 1915._ Would you believe it, you credulous old +journal, I dreamed of my white-haired boy again last night! Isn't it +silly? He was home from the war, wounded, but well again. And we were +being married; only think of it! I can see it all now as plainly as I +can see the white page before me as I write. The commotion at home; the +drive to the church; the church itself; the ceremony; how plain it all +was! Fred was best man; my white-haired boy evidently had no brothers. +Jessie, my own sweet little sister, was my bridesmaid, although she +looked a good deal older. It seemed funny to see her with her hair up, +and with long skirts. The church seemed full of soldiers. Everybody who +had known him, served with him, camped with him, or fought with him, +simply worshipped him. At weddings I have always looked at the bride, +and taken very little notice of the bridegroom. But at our wedding +everybody was looking at my white-haired boy--so tall, so handsome, so +fine--like a knight out of one of the tales of chivalry. And I was glad +that they were all looking at him. And I was so happy, oh, so very, +very happy! I was happy to think that everybody was so proud of my +white-haired boy. And I was still more happy to think that my +white-haired boy was mine, my very, very own. I was so happy that I +cried, cried as though my heart would break for joy and pride and +thankfulness. And my crying must have awakened me, for when I sat up and +stared round my old bedroom in surprise there were tears in my eyes +still. I wonder if I shall ever dream of my bridegroom again? + + +_Thursday, October 7, 1915._ I did; I really did! I dreamed of him +again! I saw the home in which we lived, a beautiful, beautiful home. I +do not mean that it was big, but that it was sweet and comfortable, and +everything so nice! I thought that he was walking with me on the lawn. +He was older, a good bit older; I should think twice as old as when I +first saw him in the trenches. But he was still the same, still tall, +still fair, and oh, such a perfect gentleman! What care he took of me! +How proud and devoted he seemed! And how he gloried in the children! For +I thought we had children, five of them! The eldest and the youngest +were boys, Arthur, so like his father as I saw him first, and the +youngest, Harry, such a romp! The three girls, too, were the light of +his eyes and the brightness of his life. What times we all had +together! I saw him once scampering across the fields with the children, +whilst I sat among the cowslips knitting and awaiting the return of my +merry madcaps. I saw him sitting with the rest of us around the fire in +winter, whilst he told tales of the things that he did at the war. How +the boys listened, almost worshipping! And again I saw him on the Sunday +at the church. He sat next the aisle. I was so happy in being beside +him, with the children on my right. What more, I wondered, could any +woman want to fill her cup up to the brim? And, wondering, I awoke. + + +_Friday, October 8, 1915._ My dreams are getting to be like parts of a +serial story. How real my white-haired boy seems to be! He has come into +my life, and I cannot believe that he is only a dream-thing. I went for +a walk yesterday with mother and Jessie, and they said I was silent and +absent-minded. The truth was that I was thinking about him, yet how +could I tell them? Nobody knows but my journal and myself. And last +night--it seems scarcely possible--I saw him again! It was not quite so +nice, for I thought we were very old. He was no longer tall and erect, +but slightly bent, though stately still. And I leaned heavily upon his +arm. And the children came, and brought their children--such a lot of +them there seemed to be. He grew as young as ever in playing with these +troops of happy little people. And for them there was no fun like a game +with grandpapa. And as I sat and watched them, I liked to think that all +these boys and girls would have something of him about them, and would +grow up to cherish his dear memory as their ideal of all that a +Christian gentleman should be. And sometimes I thought of their +children, and their children's children, till I saw, floating before my +fancy, hundreds and thousands of children yet to be; and I speculated +idly as to how far his fine influence would carry down these coming +generations. And once more I awoke. + + +_Saturday, October 9, 1915._ Oh, my journal, my journal! I dreamed of my +white-haired boy again! How I wish I never had! If only I had always +been able to think of him as I saw him on Wednesday night and Thursday! +I was once more at the war. You know what funny things dreams are. In +the trenches I again saw Fred and Charlie and Tom the butcher-boy, and +the young fellow who used to bring the groceries. But this time they +were all in action; when I saw them before they were resting. The air +was heavy with battle-smoke; the great guns roared and reverberated; +shells screamed and burst about me. It was like night, although I knew +that it was daytime. As I stood and watched--looking for somebody--four +Red Cross men passed me. They were bearing a stretcher, and on the +stretcher was a mangled form. His face was hidden by his arm, half lying +across his eyes. A strange impulse seized me. I sprang forward, raised +his arm in the semi-darkness; there was a sudden flash caused by I know +not what, and in the light of that fearful and revealing flash I +recognized my white-haired boy! I trudged beside the stretcher to the +hospital, knowing neither what I did nor what I said. And when we +reached the hospital, my white-haired boy was dead! My white-haired boy, +my white-haired boy, my white-haired boy was dead! Oh that I had never +dreamed again! + + +_Sunday, October 10, 1915._ I dreamed once more, but not of my +white-haired boy. I dreamed of myself; pity me that I had nothing better +to dream of! I am only a girl; but in my dream I saw myself an old +woman, old and lonely! Oh, so very, very lonely! I was sitting, I +thought, in the dusk beside a bright and cheery fire in a neat and cosy +little room. Neat and cosy, but oh, so lonely; and I felt sorry for +myself, very sorry. For the self that I saw in my dream was a sad old +self, a disappointed old self, a self that had fought bravely against +being soured, but a self that had, after all, only partly succeeded. It +was not a nice dream; the nice dreams that I had earlier in the week +will never come again. No, it was not a nice dream, and I awoke feeling +uneasy and unhappy; and my head was aching. + + * * * * * + +_Christmas Eve, 1973._ And so, with a shaky, withered hand, I have +copied into the last pages of my journal the entries that I made in the +first of these old volumes. What did they mean, those dreams that came +to me so long ago? Was there a white-haired boy at the war, a +white-haired boy who, if there had been no war, or if just one cruel +shell had failed to explode, would have been the glory of my life and +the father of my children? But there _was_ a war, and the fatal shell +_did_ burst, and my white-haired boy and I never met, _never met_. The +five happy children--those two fine boys and the three lovely +girls--will never now gladden these dim old eyes of mine. Those troops +of grandchildren, and those hosts of unborn generations that I saw in my +happy fancy, will never leave the land of dreams and alight on this old +world. In the days of the war, I remember how people wept with the +widows, and sorrowed with the mothers whose brave sons were stricken +down. And, God knows, none of that sympathy was wasted. Oh, it was +heart-breaking to see the lusty women who would never see their husbands +again; and the broken mothers who would never even have the poor +consolation of visiting the graves of their fallen sons. And I was only +a girl, a girl of nineteen. And nobody wept with me. I did not even weep +for myself. Nobody knew about my white-haired boy. I did not know. But I +know now. Yes, _I know now_. And God knows; I pillow my poor tired old +head on that, God knows, _God knows_! And so this, then, is to be my +last Christmas! Ah, well, so be it! And perhaps--who can tell?--perhaps, +in a world where we women shall know neither wars, nor weddings, nor +widowhood, I shall before next Christmas have found the face of my +girlish dreams! + + + + +VI + +THE RIVER + + +It is my great good fortune to dwell on the green and picturesque banks +of a broad and noble river. 'Rivers,' says an old Spanish proverb which +Izaak Walton quotes with a fine smack of approval, 'rivers were made for +wise men to contemplate and for fools to pass by without consideration.' +Let us beware lest we fall beneath the Spaniard's lash. For myself, I +can at least affirm that I never saunter beside these blue, fast-flowing +waters without feeling that the lines have fallen unto me in pleasant +places. It is wonderful how, after awhile, the winding river seems to +weave itself into the very texture and fabric of one's life. You stroll +by it, bathe in it, row on it, fish in it, until every rock and every +bank, every crag and every cliff, every twist and every bay, every deep +and every shallow, takes its place among the intimacies and fond +familiarities of life. It is one of the wonders of the world that this +little island in the southern seas should pour into the Pacific so many +fine majestic streams. And here, beside the lordliest of them all, I +have made my home. It is good to stand on these green banks, to survey +the great expanse of gleaming waters, and to see the stately ships glide +in and out. I often think of that early morning when John Forster found +Carlyle standing beside the Thames at Chelsea, lost in an evident +reverie of admiration. 'I should as soon have thought of assaulting him +as of addressing him,' says Forster. To be sure! We do lots of things in +this life of which we have no reason to be ashamed, things that are +indeed altogether to our credit, yet in the performance of which we do +not care to be discovered. It would be a sad old world, for example, if +love-making went out of fashion; but no man cares to be caught in the +act, for all that. Carlyle was caught making love to the Thames, as I +have often made love to the Derwent, and he keenly resented the +intrusion. 'He abruptly turned away,' adds the offender, 'and moved +across the roadway toward Cheyne Row, with that curious slow shuffle +habitual with him, and I saw him no more.' + +Why, my very Bible seems a new book as I ponder its pages by the banks +of the Derwent. What a different story the Old Testament would have had +to tell if Jerusalem had stood by the side of a river like this! The +Jews never forgave the frowning Providence that denied to their fair +city a river. They heard how Babylon stood proudly surveying the +shining waters of the Euphrates, how Nineveh was beautified by the +lordly Tigris, how Thebes glittered in stately grandeur on the Nile, and +how Rome sat in state beside the Tiber; and they were consumed with envy +because no broad river protected them from their foes, and bore to their +gates the wealthy merchandise of many lands. I never noticed until I +dwelt by these blue waters how all the Psalms and prophecies are +coloured by this phase of Judean life. The prophets were for ever +dreaming of the river; the psalmists were for ever singing of the river. +Nothing delighted the people like a vision, such as visited Ezekiel, of +a broad river rushing out from Jerusalem. No greater or more glowing +message ever reached the disconsolate and riverless people than when +Isaiah proclaimed, 'The glorious Lord will be unto us a place of broad +rivers and streams, wherein shall go no galley with oars, neither shall +gallant ship pass thereby!' Jehovah, that is to say, shall impart to +Jerusalem all the advantages of a river without any of its attendant +dangers. Many a faithless river, by bearing the destroyer on its bosom +to the city gates, had proved the undoing of the people after all. But +no such fate shall overwhelm Jerusalem. And, hearing this, the riverless +city was comforted. + +It is recorded of the Right. Hon. John Burns that, in the days when he +was President of the Local Government Board, he found himself strolling +on the Terrace of the House of Commons, surveying, with all the +transports of a born Londoner, the shining waters of the Thames. His +reverie was, however, rudely interrupted by a supercilious American who +was inclined to regard with scornful contempt the object of Mr. Burns' +ecstatic admiration. 'After all,' the American demanded, 'what is it but +a ditch compared with the Missouri or the Mississippi?' This was more +than even a Cabinet Minister could be expected to stand. 'The Missouri +and the Mississippi!' Mr. Burns exclaimed in a fine burst of patriotic +indignation. 'The Missouri and the Mississippi are water, sir, and +nothing but water; but that,' pointing to the Thames, '_that_, sir, is +liquid history, _liquid history_!' Yes, Mr. Burns is quite right. The +Thames has a glory of its own among the world's historic streams, +although it is only a matter of degree. All rivers are liquid history. +The records of the world's great rivers constitute themselves, to all +intents and purposes, the history of the race. To take a single +illustration, it is obvious that the student who has mastered the +history and hydrography of the Niger, the Congo, the Zambesi, the +Orange, and the Nile has little more to learn about Africa. From the +times of which Herodotus writes, when Cyrus lost his temper with the +Tigris, and turned it out of its channel for drowning one of his sacred +white horses, rivers have loomed very largely in the annals of human +history. Indeed, Professor Shailer Mathews, in _The Making of +To-morrow_, says that there never was, until recent times, a nation that +did not paddle or sail its way into history. Civilization, he says, got +its first start on water. 'In the early days rivers were thoroughfares, +and they continued to be thoroughfares until the middle of last century. +Even the United States was born on water. It was easier to get to New +Orleans from Montreal by way of the Mississippi than overland.' One has +only to conjure up the wealthy historical traditions that cluster about +the names of the Euphrates and the Nile, the Indus and the Volga, the +Rhine and the Danube, the Tiber and the Thames, in order to convince +himself that the records of the world's great waterways are inextricably +interwoven with the annals of the human race. + +We cannot, however, disguise from ourselves the fact that the affection +that we feel for our rivers is not based solely, or even primarily, on +utilitarian considerations. Nobody supposes that it is the navigable +qualities of the Ganges that have led the Hindus to believe that to die +on its banks, or to drink before death of its waters, is to secure to +themselves everlasting felicity. Yet, when we attempt to account in so +many words for the fascination of the river, the task becomes intricate +and difficult. Macaulay spent his thirty-eighth birthday on the banks of +the Rhone, and transferred his impressions to his journal. 'I was +delighted,' he says, 'by my first sight of the blue, rushing, +healthful-looking river. I thought, as I wandered along the quay, of the +singular love and veneration which rivers excite in those who live on +their banks; of the feeling of the Hindus about the Ganges, of the +Hebrews about the Jordan, of the Egyptians about the Nile, of the Romans +about the Tiber, and of the Germans about the Rhine. Is it that rivers +have, in a greater degree than almost any other inanimate object, the +appearance of animation, and something resembling character? They are +sometimes slow and dark-looking; sometimes fierce and impetuous; +sometimes bright, dancing, and almost flippant.' However that may be, +the fact itself remains; and it is surprising that our literature does +not more adequately reflect this marked peculiarity. Macaulay himself +felt the lack, and dreamed of writing a great epic poem on the Thames. +'I wonder,' he said, 'that no poet has thought of writing such a poem. +Surely there is no finer subject of the sort than the whole course of +the river from Oxford downwards.' But a century has gone by and the poem +has not been penned. Shakespeare dwelt beside the Avon; Goethe loved to +stroll among the willows on the banks of the Lahn; Coleridge was born, +and spent the most impressionable years of his life in the beautiful +valley of the Otter. And one of the tenderest idylls of our literary +history is the picture of Wordsworth wandering hand in hand with Dorothy +among the most delightful river scenery of which even England can boast. +Yet, beyond a few sonnets and snippets, nothing came of it all. Neither +the laughing little streams nor the more majestic and historic waterways +have ever yet found their laureates. + +But there are compensations. If the bards have been strangely and +unaccountably irresponsive to the music of the waters, our great prose +writers have caught its murmur and its meaning. Two particularly, John +Bunyan and Rudyard Kipling, have given us the classics of the river. +Bunyan's river--the river that all the pilgrims had to cross--is too +familiar to need more than the merest mention. And as for Mr. Kipling, +he, like Bunyan, is a writer of both poetry and prose. As a poet he has +failed to do justice to the river, as all the poets have failed. He has +given us a snippet, as all the poets have done. He makes the Thames +tells its own tale, and a wonderful tale it is. + + I remember the bat-winged lizard birds, + The Age of Ice and the mammoth herds; + And the giant tigers that stalked them down + Through Regent's Park into Camden Town; + And I remember like yesterday + The earliest Cockney who came my way, + When he pushed through the forest that lined the Strand, + With paint on his face and a club in his hand. + +But I forgave Kipling for not having repaired the omission of the older +poets when I read _Kim_. _Kim_ is the greatest story of a river that has +ever been written. Who can forget the old lama and his long, long search +for the River? Buddha, he thought, once took a bow and fired an arrow +from its string, and, where that arrow fell, there sprang up a river +'whose nature, by our Lord's beneficence, is that whoso bathes in it +washes away all taint and speckle of sin.' And so, through Mr. Kipling's +four hundred vivid pages, there wanders the old lama, through city and +rice-fields, over hills and across plains, asking, always asking, one +everlasting question: 'The River; the River of the Arrow; the River that +can cleanse from Sin; where is the River? Where, oh, where is the +River?' All India, all the world seems to enter into that ceaseless cry. +It is the deepest, oldest, latest cry of the universal heart: 'The +River; the River of the Arrow; the River that can cleanse from Sin; +where is the River? Where, oh, where is the River?' And it is the +Church's unspeakable privilege to take the old lama's hand and to point +his sparkling eyes to the cleansing fountains. + + + + +VII + +FACES IN THE FIRE + + +It was half-past ten! I had no idea it was so late! Our little camp was +pitched about four miles up Captain's Gully, under the massive shelter +of Bulman's Ridge. It had been a perfect, cloudless day; all our +excursions--fishing, shooting, botanizing, and the rest--had been +crowned with delightful success; and after supper we sat round the great +camp fire, talking. We talked, of course, of the only things ever +discussed around camp fires--old times and old faces. I was struck with +the number of sentences that began '_I remember once----_.' Then, one by +one, the others stole away to their tents--those little white tents that +had looked like stray snowflakes in a wilderness of bush whenever we +caught sight of them from the hills in the daytime, yet which seemed all +the world to us at night. One by one, with a 'Here's off!' or a 'So +long!' the others had slipped quietly away, and the fire and I were at +last left to ourselves. How still it all was! Now and then I heard the +queer cry of a mopoke up the gully; and once there was the swish of a +bough beneath the leap of a 'possum. But, save for these, I could hear +no sound but the subdued hissing and rumbling of the logs as they +crumpled up in the fire before me. I remained for awhile, looking into +the glowing embers; and there, in the dying fire, the faces of my +companions all came back to me. And not theirs alone; for I saw, too, +the old familiar faces of which we had been chatting, and a hundred +others as well. It was then that I was startled by the 'possum in the +branches overhead. I looked at my watch; it was half-past ten; and I too +turned my back on the fire that had revealed so much. And I wondered, as +I moved away to my tent, why, by the side of the fire, we always think +of the Past, dream of the Past, talk of the Past. Why do our yesterdays +all spring to new and glorious life when the flickering flames are +lighting up our faces? + +Our camp broke up a day or two later; and all such thoughts seemed to +have died with the fire that gave them birth. But, oddly enough, they +returned to me this morning. For, when I arose, I was conscious of a +distinct snap of winter in the atmosphere; and when I entered the study +I discovered that the divinity who presides over such matters had lit +the first fire of another year. I saluted it with pleasure, not merely +for the sake of the comfort it promised me, but for its own sake. I +greeted it as one greets an old and trusted friend. On this side of the +world we scarcely know what winter means, and we are therefore in danger +of underestimating the historic value of the fire. We can produce +nothing in Australia worthy of comparison with those stern winters with +which Northern and Western writers have made us so familiar. We are +accustomed to a literature which pours in upon us from high Northern +latitudes, and which describes, with a picturesque realism that evokes a +sympathetic shiver, the glacial snowdrifts that, for weeks on end, lie +deep along the hedgerows; the hapless bird that falls, frozen to death, +from the leafless bough; the rabbit that perishes of slow starvation in +its wretched burrow; and the fish that floats in stupor beneath the very +ice that furnishes the skater's paradise. But whilst, to us, snow and +ice are things of imagination or of memory, I felt thankful this +morning, as I knelt down like some old fire-worshipper and warmed my +numb hands at the cheerful blaze, that this Tasmanian winter of ours has +just enough sting in it to preserve in me a lively appreciation of this +ancient and honourable institution. + +For the fireside is sanctified by a great and glorious tradition. It +enshrines all that is most mystical and most wonderful in our +civilization. In his pictures of the forest, Jack London again and again +emphasizes the magic effect of the fireside even on the creatures of the +wild. When White Fang, the wolf, saw the tongues of flame and clouds of +smoke that arose from beneath the Indian's hands, he was mystified. It +seemed to him a sign of some divinity in man of which he knew nothing. +It drew him as by some mesmeric influence. 'He crawled several steps +towards the flame. His nose touched it.' And when he felt the pain it +seemed as if an angry deity had smitten him. + +In _The Call of the Wild_, Jack London returns to the same idea. Buck, +the great dog, was a creature of the wild, and sometimes the yearning +for the wild swept over him with almost irresistible authority. What was +it that kept him from bounding off into the forest and shaking the dust +of civilization from his paws for ever? It was because 'faithfulness and +devotion, things born of fire and roof,' had been developed within him. +He had sprawled on the hearth before John Thornton's fire; had looked up +hungrily into John Thornton's face; had learned to love his master more +than life itself; and to the fireside of his master he was bound by +invisible chains that he could not snap. 'Deep in the forest,' says Jack +London, 'a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, +mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back +upon the fire and the beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the +forest, and on and on, he knew not where or why; nor did he wonder where +or why, the call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest. But as often +as he gained the soft unbroken earth and the green shade, the love for +John Thornton drew him back to the fire again.' The fire; it is always +the fire. The fire seems, even to the brutes, to be the emblem of the +genius of our humanity. + +For the triumph of humanity is the creation of home; and the soul of the +home is the fireside. The luxurious summer evenings, with their wide +range of out-of-door allurements, tend to discount the attractions of +the home, and to depreciate the value of domestic intercourse. We return +from business and rush out again for recreation. But winter furnishes a +salutary corrective. When the day's work is done, and the home is once +reached, everything conspires to enhance its seductive charms. Outside, +the dark and the cold, the bleak wind and the driving rain, threaten +multiple discomforts to the gadabout who dares to venture forth; whilst +within, the blazing fire, the cheerful hum of table talk, and the genial +hospitalities of home make their most resistless appeal amidst the +wintriest conditions. Was it not for this reason that the fire came to +be regarded for centuries as the natural emblem of domestic felicity? In +the days before matches were invented, when the lighting of a fire was a +much more laborious business than it is to-day, the first fire in the +home of a newly married pair was started by the bearing of a burning +brand from each of the homes from which bride and bridegroom came. It +was intended as a kind of ritual. The communication of the flame from +the old hearths which they had left to the new one which they had +established was designed to symbolize the perpetuation of all that was +worthiest and most sacred in the homes from which the young people had +come. It was the transfer of the Past--that radiant and tender Past that +saluted me from the glowing embers of my camp fire in the gully--to the +roseate and unborn future. + +But although it was in my solitude that the fire in Captain's Gully +spoke to me, the fire is no lover of loneliness. It is the very emblem +of hospitality, and there are few graces more attractive. We boast that +an Englishman's home is his castle, and we do all that legislation can +accomplish to make that castle impregnable and inviolate. We close the +door, and draw the blinds, and we feel that we have effectually shut the +whole world out. And yet when a friend looks in, we suddenly discover +that our happiness consists, not in barring and bolting the heavy front +door, but in flinging it wide open. We seat him in the best chair; we +bring out the best dainties from the cupboard, the best books from the +shelves, and the best stories from the treasure-house of memory. The +fire crackles, cheeks glow, and eyes sparkle as the genial conversation +grows in interest and surprise. Nor is the pleasure by any means the +monopoly of the host; the guest shares it to the full. What is more +exhilarating or satisfying than an evening spent round a good fire with +a few kindred spirits in whose company one is perfectly at home? You can +speak or be silent, just as the mood takes you. You have not to labour +to be entertaining if you feel that you have nothing to say; nor need +you struggle to restrain yourself if you feel in the humour to talk. You +have not to weigh every word as you instinctively do in the presence of +less familiar or less trusted companions. You eat the fruit that is +handed round, or decline it, just as the whim of the moment dictates, +feeling under no obligation either way. You are entirely at your ease. +Sometimes the one conversation holds the entire group, and the +semi-circle listens, interested or amused, to the tale that one member +of the cluster is telling. At other times the party automatically +divides itself into knots; the gentlemen, it may be, breaking into +politics or business, and the ladies comparing notes on more enticing +themes. The fire blazes; the buzz of conversation rises and falls, sinks +and swells. Occasionally the attention is so concentrated on the subdued +voice of one speaker that scarcely a sound is audible outside the door; +a moment later the argument is so exciting, or the laughing so +boisterous, that everybody seems to be shouting at the same time. The +gramophone, and all such adventitious aids to the tolerable passage of a +leaden evening, are never so much as thought of. Even the piano is left +out in the cold. Every moment is crowded with the flush of unalloyed +delight. And when the last guest has vanished, and the house seems +silent and empty, it suddenly occurs to you that the great chief guest +whom you have been entertaining, or who has been entertaining you, was +the Past, the radiant and glorified Past. The phrase that we heard so +often in Captain's Gully, the '_I remember once----_,' has been the +key-note of the evening's gossip. + +For the fact is that the fireside, whether in Captain's Gully in +summer-time or at home in dead of winter, is a sort of magic +observatory, a kind of camera-obscura. Outside, the world is wrapped in +impenetrable darkness. But the kindly glow of the fire stimulates the +memory, spurs the imagination, and brings back all our lost loves and +all our veiled landscapes in a beautified and idealized form. The lonely +man sees faces in the fire; but there are other things as well. The +springs and summers that haunt our fancy as we talk of them beside a +roaring fire are the blithest and gayest seasons that the world has ever +known. Never was sky so blue, or earth so fair, or sun so bright, or +air so sweet as the sky and the earth, the sun and the air, that we +contemplate from our coign of vantage by the side of the fire. The +fragrance of the hawthorn in the hedgerow; the humming of the bees along +the bank; the carolling of birds in the tree-tops; the bleating of the +lambs across the meadows,--these never appear so alluring as when we +view them from the wonderful observatory at the fireside. Dean Hole +tells with what sadness he used to pluck the last roses of summer. And +then, he says, 'the chill evenings come, curtains are drawn, and bright +fires glow. Then who is so happy as the rose-grower with the new +catalogues before him?' He sits by his fire and talks lovingly of the +roses that he grew in the summer that has vanished, and his eyes light +up with enthusiasm as he thinks of the still fairer blossoms of the +summer that will soon be here. And so two summer-times sit by his hearth +at mid-winter, and he revels in the company of each of them. + +It is ever so. The crackling of the logs wakes up the slumbering Past, +and it all comes back to us. As soon as a man gets his feet on the +fender he instinctively thinks of old times and old companions. The +flames have destroyed much; but they also revive much. They bring back +to us our yesterdays; they bring back, indeed, the lordly yesterdays of +the remotest, stateliest antiquity. Surely that was the idea in +Macaulay's mind when he wrote 'Horatius': + + And in the nights of winter, + When the cold north winds blow, + And the long howling of the wolves + Is heard amidst the snow; + When round the lonely cottage + Roars loud the tempest's din, + And the good logs of Algidus + Roar louder yet within; + + When the oldest cask is opened, + And the largest lamp is lit; + When the chestnuts glow in the embers, + And the kid turns on the spit; + When young and old in circle + Around the firebrands close; + When the girls are weaving baskets, + And the lads are shaping bows; + + When the goodman mends his armour, + And trims his helmet's plume; + When the goodwife's shuttle merrily + Goes flashing through the loom,-- + With weeping and with laughter + Still is the story told, + How well Horatius kept the bridge + In the brave days of old. + +Now, when I come to think of it, is it any wonder that the days of auld +lang syne, and the old familiar faces, should all come back in the +flames? For the scientists tell me that this study-fire of mine is +simply the radiance of far-back ages suddenly released for my present +comfort. Long before a single black-fellow prowled about these vast +Australian solitudes, the sun bathed this huge continent in apparently +superfluous brightness. But the sun knew what it was doing. The coalbeds +gathered up and stored that sunshine through centuries of centuries. The +black men came; and the white men came; and here at last am I! I need +that sunshine of ages long gone by. The miner digs for it; brings it to +the surface; sends it to my study; and, lo, I am this very morning +warming my numb fingers at its genial glow! + +And so the match with which I light a fire, either in the camp away up +in the bush, or in this quiet study at home, is nothing less than the +wand of a magician! At the barred and bolted doors of the irrecoverable +Past I tap with that small wand and cry, 'Open, Sesame!' And, lo, a +miracle is straightway wrought! The doors that have been closed for +years, perhaps for ages, swing suddenly open, and the sunshine comes +streaming out! That match liberates the imprisoned brightness. The +scientists say so, and I can easily believe it. For this is the +essential glory of the fireside. All the sunniest memories rush to mind +as we cluster round the hearth. All the sunniest experiences of the +dead and buried years spring to vigorous life once more. All the +sunniest faces--the dear, familiar faces of the long ago--smile at us +again from out the glowing embers. And perhaps--who shall say?--perhaps +some thought like this haunted the minds of a prophet of the Old +Testament and an apostle of the New when, greatly daring, they declared +that 'our God is a consuming fire!' Did they mean that, when we see Him +as He is, all the holiest and sweetest and most precious treasure of the +Past will be more our own? Did they mean that in Him the sunshine of all +the ages will again salute us? + + + + +VIII + +THE MENACE OF THE SUNLIT HILL + + +I am writing on the six hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the birth of +Dante. The poet was born in 1265; I am writing in 1915. Six hundred and +fifty years represent a tremendous slice of history; and these six +hundred and fifty years span a chasm between two specially notable +crises in the annals of this little world. Dante was born in a year of +battle and of tumult, of fierce dissension and of bitter strife. It was +a year that decided the destinies of empires and changed the face of +Europe. Such a year, too, is this in which I write, and, writing, look +down the long, long avenue of the centuries that intervene. This +morning, however, I am not concerned with the story of revolution and of +conflict, of political convulsions and of nations at war. Such a study +would have fascinations of its own; but I deliberately leave it that I +may contemplate the secret history of a great, a noble, and a tender +soul. Edward FitzGerald tells us that he and Tennyson were one day +looking in a shop window in Regent Street. They saw a long row of busts, +among which were those of Goethe and Dante. The poet and his friend +studied them closely and in silence. At last FitzGerald spoke. 'What is +it,' he asked, 'which is present in Dante's face and absent from +Goethe's?' The poet answered, '_The divine_!' Now how did that divine +element come into Dante's life? He has himself told us. Has the +spiritual autobiography of Dante, as revealed to us in the introductory +lines of his _Inferno_, ever taken that place among our devotional +classics to which it is justly entitled? Surely the pathos, the insight, +and the exquisite simplicity of that first page are worthy of comparison +with the choicest treasures of Bunyan or of Wesley, of Brainerd or of +Fox. Let us glance at it. + + +I + +I have heard many evangelists preach on such texts as: 'The Son of Man +is come to seek and to save that which is lost.' It was necessary, of +course, that they should explain to their audiences what they meant by +this lost condition. Wisely enough, they have usually had recourse to +illustration. The child lost in a London crowd; the ship lost on a +trackless sea; the sheep lost among the lonely hills; the traveller lost +in the endless bush,--all these have been exploited again and again. +From literature, one of the best illustrations is the moving story of +Enoch Arden. When poor Enoch returns from his long sojourn on the +desolate island, he finds that his wife, giving him up for dead, has +married Philip, and that his children worship their new father. It is +the garrulous old woman at the inn who tells him, never dreaming that +she is speaking to Enoch. Says she: + + 'Enoch, poor man, was cast away and lost!' + He, shaking his grey head pathetically, + Repeated, muttering, 'Cast away and lost!' + Again in deeper inward whispers, 'Lost!' + +But none of these illustrations are as good as Dante's. He opens by +describing the emotions with which, at the age of thirty-five, his soul +awoke. He was lost! + + In the midway of this our mortal life, + I found me in a gloomy wood, astray, + Gone from the path direct: and e'en to tell + It were no easy task, how savage wild + That forest, how robust and rough its growth, + Which to remember only, my dismay + Renews, in bitterness not far from death. + +Neither Bunyan's pilgrim in his City of Destruction, nor his City of +Mansoul beleaguered by fierce foes, is quite so human or quite so +convincing as this weird scene in the forest. The gloom, the loneliness, +the silence, and the absence of all hints as to a way out of his +misery; these make up a scene that combines all the elements of +adventure with all the elements of reality. Dante was lost, and knew it. + + +II + +The poet cannot tell us by what processes he became entangled in this +jungle. 'How first I entered it I scarce can say.' But it does not very +much matter. The way by which he escaped is the thing that concerns us; +and to this theme he bravely addresses himself. In his description of +his earliest sensations in the dark forest, several things are +significant. He clearly regarded it as a very great gain, for example, +to have discovered that he was lost. 'I found me,' he says, 'I found me +in a gloomy wood, astray.' Those three words, '_I found me_,' remind us +of nothing so much as the record of the prodigal, 'And he came to +himself.' I am pleased to notice that it is of the incomparable story of +the prodigal that Dante's opening confession reminds most of his +expositors. Thus, Mr. A. G. Ferress Howell, in his valuable little +monograph on Dante, observes that this finding of himself 'shows that he +has got to the point reached by the prodigal son when he said, "I will +arise and go to my father." He found, that is to say, that he had +altogether missed the true object of life. The wild and trackless +wood,' Mr. Howell goes on to observe, 'represents the world as it was in +1300. Why was it wild and trackless? Because the guides appointed to +lead men to _temporal felicity_ in accordance with the teachings of +Philosophy, and to eternal felicity in accordance with the teachings of +Revelation--the Emperor and the Pope--were both of them false to their +trust.' So here was poor Dante, only knowing that he was hopelessly +lost; and unable to discover among the undergrowth about him any +suggestion of a way to safety. + + +III + +Suddenly the Vision Beautiful breaks upon him. He stumbles blindly +through the forest until he arrives at the base of a sunlit mountain: + + ... a mountain's foot I reached, where closed + The valley that had pierced my heart with dread. + I looked aloft, and saw his shoulders broad + Already vested with that planet's beam + Who leads all wanderers safe through every way. + +The hill is, of course, the life he fain would live--steep and +difficult, but free from the mists of the valley and the entanglements +of the wood. And is it not illumined by the Sun of Righteousness--'Who +leads all wanderers safe through every way'? He stepped out from the +valley and cheerfully commenced the ascent. And then his troubles began. +One after the other, wild beasts barred his way and dared him to +persist. His path was beset with the most terrible difficulties. Now +here, if anywhere, the poet betrays that spiritual insight, that flash +of genuine mysticism, that entitles him to rank with the great masters. +For whilst he wandered in the murky wood no ravenous beasts assailed +him. There, life, however unsatisfying, was at least free from conflict. +But as soon as he essayed to climb the sunlit hill his way was +challenged. It is a very ancient problem. The psalmist marvelled that, +whilst the wicked around him enjoyed a most profound and unruffled +tranquillity, his life was so full of perplexity and trouble. John +Bunyan was arrested by the same inscrutable mystery. Why should he, in +his pilgrim progress, be so storm-beaten and persecuted, whilst the +people who abandoned themselves to folly enjoyed unbroken ease? I have +often thought of the problem when out shooting. The dog invariably +ignores the dead birds and devotes all his energy to the fluttering +things that are struggling to escape. In the stress of the experience +itself, however, such comfortable thoughts do not occur to us, and it +seems passing strange that, whilst our days in the wood were undisturbed +by hungry eyes or gleaming fangs, our attempt to climb the sunlit hill +should bring about us a host of unexpected enemies. Many a young and +eager convert, fancying that the Christian life meant nothing but +rapture, has been startled by the discovery of the beasts of prey +awaiting him. + + +IV + +And such beasts! Trouble seemed to succeed trouble; difficulty followed +on the heels of difficulty; peril came hard upon peril. + + Scarce the ascent + Began, when, lo! a panther, nimble, light, + And covered with a speckled skin, appeared, + Nor when it saw me, vanished, rather strove + To check my onward going; that ofttimes + With purpose to retrace my steps I turned. + +He had scarcely recovered from the shock, and driven this peril from his +path, when + + ... a new dread succeeded, for in view + A lion came, 'gainst me, as it appeared, + With his head held aloft and hunger-mad. + That e'en the air was fear-struck. A she-wolf + Was at his heels, who in her leanness seemed + Full of all wants, and many a land hath made + Disconsolate ere now. She with such fear + O'erwhelmed me, at the sight of her appalled, + That of the height all hope I lost. + +The panther, the lion, and the wolf; that is very suggestive, and we +must look into this striking symbolism a little more closely. + + +V + +The three fierce creatures that challenged Dante's ascent of the sunlit +hill represent evils of various kinds and characters. If a man cannot be +deterred by one form of temptation, another will speedily present +itself. It is, as the old prophet said, 'as if a man did flee from a +lion, and a bear met him; or went into the house, and leaned his hand on +the wall, and a serpent bit him.' If one form of evil is unsuccessful, +another instantly replaces it. If the panther is driven off, the lion +appears; and if the lion is vanquished, the lean wolf takes its place. +But there is more than this hidden in the poet's parable. Did Dante +intend to set forth no subtle secret by placing the three beasts in that +order? Most of his expositors agree that he meant the panther to +represent _Lust_, the lion to represent _Pride_, and the wolf to +represent _Avarice_. Lust is the besetting temptation of youth, and +therefore the panther comes first. Pride is the sin to which we succumb +most easily in the full vigour of life. We have won our spurs, made a +way for ourselves in the world, and the glamour of our triumph is too +much for us. And Avarice comes, not exactly in age, but just after the +zenith has been passed. The beasts were not equidistant. The lion came +some time after the panther had vanished; but the wolf crept at the +lion's heels. What a world of meaning is crowded into that masterly +piece of imagery! Assuming that this interpretation be sound, two other +suggestions immediately confront us; and we must lend an ear to each of +them in turn. + + +VI + +The three creatures differed in character. The panther was _beautiful_; +the lion was _terrible_; the wolf was _horrible_. Although the poet knew +full well the cruelty and deadliness of the crouching panther's spring, +he was compelled to admire the creature's exquisite beauty. 'The hour,' +he says, + + The hour was morning's prime, and on his way. + Aloft the sun ascended with those stars + That with him rose, when Love divine first moved + Those its fair works; so that with joyous hope + All things conspire to fill me, the gay skin + Of that swift animal, the matin dawn. + And the sweet season. + +The lion, on the other hand, is the symbol of majesty and terror. But +the lean she-wolf was positively horrible. Her hungry eyes, her +gleaming fangs, her panting sides, filled the beholder with loathing. +'Her leanness seemed full of all wants.' The poet says that the very +sight of her o'erwhelmed and appalled him. Dante himself confessed that, +of the three, he regarded the last as by far the worst of these three +brutal foes. Now I fancy that, in the temptations that respectively +assail youth, maturity, and decline, I have noticed these same +characteristics. As a rule, the sins of youth are beautiful sins. The +appeals to youthful vice are invariably defended on aesthetic grounds. +The boundary-line that divides high art from indecency is a very +difficult one to define. And it is so difficult to define because the +blandishments to which youth succumbs are for the most part the +blandishments of beauty. Like the panther, vice is cruel and pitiless; +yet the glamour of it is so fair that it 'blends with the matin dawn and +the sweet season.' The sins that bring down the strong man, on the other +hand, are not so much beautiful as terrible. The man in his prime goes +down before those terrific onslaughts that the forces of evil know so +well how to organize and muster. They are not lovely; they are leonine. +And is it not true that the temptations that work havoc in later life +are as a rule unalluring, hideous, and difficult to understand? The +world is thunderstruck. It seems so incomprehensible that, after having +survived his struggle with the beauteous panther and the terrible lion, +a man of such mettle should yield to a lean and ugly wolf! + + +VII + +The other thing is this: there is a distinction in method, a difference +in approach, distinguishing these three beasts. The panther crouches, +springs suddenly upon its unsuspecting prey, and relies on the advantage +of surprise. Such are the sins of youth. 'Alas,' as George Macdonald so +tersely says, + + Alas, how easily things go wrong! + A sigh too deep, or a kiss too long, + There follows a mist and a weeping rain. + And life is never the same again. + +The lion meets you in the open, and relies upon his strength. The wolf +simply persists. He follows your trail day after day. You see his wicked +eyes, like fireflies, stabbing the darkness of the night. He relies not +upon surprise or strength, but on wearing you down at the last. +Wherefore, let him that thinketh he standeth--having beaten off the +_panther_--beware of the _lion_ and the _wolf_. And, still more +imperatively, let him that thinketh he standeth--having vanquished both +the _panther_ and the lion--take heed lest he fall at last to the grim +and frightful persistence of the lean _she-wolf_. It is just six hundred +and fifty years to-day since Dante was born; but, as my pen has been +whispering these things to me, the centuries have fallen away like a +curtain that is drawn. I have saluted across the ages a man of like +passions with myself, and his brave spirit has called upon mine to climb +the sunlit hill in spite of everything. + + + + +IX + +AMONG THE ICEBERGS + + +Not so very long ago, and not so very far from this Tasmanian home of +mine, I beheld a spectacle that took me completely by surprise, and even +now baffles my best endeavours to describe it. I was on board a fine +steamship four days out from Hobart. In the early afternoon, as I was +rising from a brief siesta, I was startled by a voice exclaiming +excitedly, 'Oh, do come and see such a splendid iceberg!' I confess that +at first I entertained the notion with a liberal allowance of caution. I +was afflicted with very grave suspicions. At sea, folk are apt to forget +the calendar, and every day in the year has an awkward way of getting +itself mistaken for the first of April. But the manifest earnestness of +my informant bore down before it all base doubts, and I was sufficiently +convinced to hurry up to the promenade deck. I looked eagerly far out to +port, and then to starboard, but nothing was to be seen! It was the old +story of 'water, water everywhere!' My suspicions returned in an +aggravated form. Indignantly I sought out my informant, and peremptorily +demanded production of the promised iceberg. 'It's dead ahead,' he +replied calmly, 'and can therefore only be seen as yet from the bows.' +To the bows I accordingly hastened, and there I found a crowd, +comprising both passengers and crew, already congregated. + +And surely enough, I then and there beheld the most magnificent and +awe-inspiring natural phenomenon upon which these eyes ever rested. +Right ahead of the ship there loomed up on the far horizon what +appeared, under an overcast, leaden sky, to be a fair-sized island, with +a high and rocky coast. In the distance stood a tall, rugged peak, as of +a mountain towering up like a monarch coldly proud of his desolate +island realm. The whole stood out strikingly gloomy and forbidding +against the distant eastern skyline. But, hey, presto! even as we +watched it, in less time than it takes to tell, a wonderful +transformation scene was enacted before our eyes. Suddenly, from over +the stern, the sun shone out, flinging all its radiant splendours on the +colossal object of our undivided attention. + +In the twinkling of an eye, as if by magic, that which but a second ago +might have passed for a barren rocky island was transformed into a +brilliant mass of dazzling whiteness. Everything seemed to have been +transfigured. A fairyland of pearly palaces, flashing with diamonds and +emeralds, could not have eclipsed its glories now! There it still +stood, indescribably terrible and grand, right in our track, as though +daring us to approach any nearer to its gleaming purities. And as the +sunlight refracted about it, all the colours of the rainbow seemed to +play around its brow. Moreover, the genial warmth produced another +wonder. For, under its benign influence, the glittering peaks gave off +columns of vapour. They seemed to smoke like volcanoes. + + In the mellow summer sun, + The icebergs, one by one, + Caught a spark of quickening fire, + Every turret smoked a censer, + Every pinnacle a pyre. + +The wonder grew upon us as we watched. And yet, straight on, our good +ship held her way, her course unaltered and her speed unabated, as if, +fascinated by the majestic beauty before her, she were eager to dash +herself to pieces at the feet of such pure and awful loveliness. Ever +greater and ever more splendid it appeared as the distance lessened +between us and it, until we really seemed to be approaching an almost +perilous proximity. Then, of a sudden, the ship swerved to the +north-ward, and we ran by within a few hundred yards of the icy monster. +Who could help recalling the adventure of Coleridge's 'Ancient +Mariner'? + + And now there came both mist and snow, + And it grew wondrous cold, + And ice, mast high, came floating by + As green as emerald. + + And through the drifts, the snowy clifts + Did send a dismal sheen, + Nor shapes of men, nor beasts we ken. + The ice was all between. + + The ice was here, the ice was there, + The ice was all around, + It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, + Like noises in a swound. + +Or Tennyson's lovely simile, wherein he says that we ourselves are like + + Floating lonely icebergs, our crests above the ocean, + With deeply submerged portions united by the sea. + +Then once again the fickle sun veiled his face, and that which had +appeared at first as a rocky island in mid-ocean, and afterwards as a +flashing palace of crystals, now assumed a dulled whiteness as of one +huge mass of purest chalk. + +The heavy southern seas were dashing angrily against it, seeming +jealously to resent its escape from their own frozen dominions. And the +great clouds of spray which, as a consequence, were hurled into mid-air +gave an added grandeur to a spectacle that seemed to need no +supplementary charms. For miles around, the sea was strewn with +enormous masses of floating ice, some as large as an ordinary two-story +house, and all of the most fantastic shapes, which had apparently +swarmed off from the main berg. One long row of these, stretching out +from the monster right across the ship's course, looked for a moment not +unlike a great ice-reef connected with the berg, and caused no little +anxiety until the line of apparent peril had been safely negotiated. +When we were clean abreast, a gun was fired from the bridge of the +steamer, in order, I understand, to ascertain from the rapidity and +volume of the echo the approximate distance, and, by deduction, the size +of our polar acquaintance. Nor were there wanting those who were +sanguine enough to expect that the atmospheric vibration set in +operation by the explosion might finish the work of dislocation which +any cracks or fissures had already begun, and bring down at least some +tottering peaks or pinnacles. Sir John Franklin, in one of his northern +voyages, saw this feat accomplished. But, if any of my companions +expected to witness a similar phenomenon, they had reckoned without +their host. The unaffected dignity of the sullen monster mocked our puny +effort to bring about his downfall. Hercules scorned the ridiculous +weapons of the pigmies! The dull booming of the gun started a thousand +weird echoes on the desolate ice. They snarled out their remonstrance at +our intrusion upon their wonted solitude, and then again lapsed sulkily +into silence. The temperature dropped instantly, and I recalled a famous +saying of Dr. Thomas Guthrie's, whose life I had just been reading. In +one of his speeches, before the Synod of Angus and Mearns, he said, 'I +know of churches that would be all the better of some little heat. _An +iceberg of a minister_ has been floated in among them, and they have +cooled down to something below zero.' '_An iceberg of a minister!_' I +think of the nipping air on board when our ship was in the midst of the +ice; and the memory of it makes me shiver! '_An iceberg of a minister!_' +God, in His great mercy, save me from being such a minister as that! + +The long-sustained excitement to which these events had given rise had +scarcely begun to subside when the cry arose, 'An iceberg on the +starboard bow!' This, in its turn, was speedily succeeded by 'Another!' +Then, 'An iceberg on the port bow!' And yet once more 'Another!' till we +were literally surrounded by icebergs. At tea-time we could peep through +the saloon portholes at no fewer than five of these polar giants. +Although most of them were larger than our first acquaintance--at least +one of them being about three miles in length--none of these later +appearances succeeded in arousing the same degree of enthusiasm as that +with which we hailed the advent of the first. For one thing, the charm +of novelty had, of course, begun to wear off. And, for another, they +were of a less romantic shape, most of them being perfectly flat, as +though some great polar plain were being broken up and we were being +favoured with the superfluous territory in casual instalments. And, by +the way, speaking of the shape of icebergs, I am told that the icebergs +of the two hemispheres are quite different in shape, the Arctic bergs +being irregular in outline, with lofty pinnacles and glittering domes, +while the Antarctic bergs are, generally speaking, flat-topped, and of +less fantastic form. The delicate traceries of the far North do not +reflect themselves in the sturdier and more matter-of-fact monsters of +the South. The appearance of icebergs in such numbers, of such +dimensions, in these latitudes, and at this time of the year, +constitutes, I am credibly informed, a very unusual if not, indeed, a +quite unique experience. The theory was freely advanced that some +volcanic disturbance had visited the polar regions and had dislodged +these massive fragments. However that may be, we were not at all sorry +that it had fallen to our happy lot to behold a spectacle of such +sublimity. And when we reflected that less than one-tenth of each mass +was visible above the water-line, we were able to form a more adequate +appreciation of the stupendous proportions of our gigantic neighbours. +Reflecting upon this aspect of the matter, I remembered to have heard, +in my college days, a popular London preacher make excellent use of this +phenomenon. 'When,' he said impressively, 'when you are tempted to judge +sin from its superficial appearance, and to judge it leniently, remember +that sins are like icebergs--_the greater part of them is out of +sight_!' + +A certain amount of anxiety was felt, I confess, by most of us as night +cast her sable mantle over sea and ice. To admire an iceberg in broad +daylight is one thing; to be racing on amidst a crowd of them by night +is quite another. Ice, however, casts around it a weird, warning light +of its own, which makes its presence perceptible even in the darkest +night. So all night long the good ship sped bravely on her ocean track, +and all night long the captain himself kept cold and sleepless vigil on +the bridge. When morning broke, three fresh icebergs were to be seen +away over the stern. But we had now shaped a more northerly course; and +we therefore waved adieu to these magnificent monsters which we were so +delighted to have seen, and scarcely less pleased to have left. They +will doubtless have melted from existence long before they will have +melted from our memories. + +Yes, they will have melted! And that reminds me of another famous saying +of the great Dr Thomas Guthrie, a saying which is peculiarly to the +point just now. 'The existence,' he said, 'of the Mohammedan power in +Turkey is just a question of time. Its foundations are year by year +wearing away, like that of an iceberg which has floated into warm seas, +and, as happens with that creation of a cold climate, it will by-and-by +become top-heavy, the centre of gravity being changed, and it will +topple over! What a commotion then!' Ah! what a commotion, to be sure! + +They will have melted! Silly things! They grew weary of that realm of +white and stainless purity to which they once belonged; they broke away +from their old connexions and set out upon their long, long drift. They +drifted on and on towards the milder north; on and on towards warmer +seas; on and on towards the balmy breath and ceaseless sunshine of the +tropics. And, in return, the sunshine destroyed them. Yes, the sunshine +destroyed them. I have seen something very much like it in the Church +and in the world. 'Therefore,' says a great writer, who had himself felt +the fatal lure of too-much-sunshine, 'therefore let us take the more +steadfast hold of the things which we have heard, lest at any time we +drift away from them.' It is a tragedy of no small magnitude when, like +the iceberg, a man is lured by sparkling summer seas to his own +undoing. + + + + +PART III + + + + +I + +A BOX OF TIN SOLDIERS + + +No philosophy is worth its salt unless it can make a boy forget that he +has the toothache; and the philosophy which I am about to introduce has +triumphantly survived that exacting ordeal. That Jack had the toothache +everybody knew. The expression of his anguish resounded dismally through +the neighbourhood; the evidence of it was visible in his swollen and +distorted countenance. Poor Jack! All the standard cures--old-fashioned +and new-fangled--had been tried in vain; all but one. It was that one +that at last relieved the pain, and it is of that one that I now write. +It happened that Jack was within a week of his birthday. His parents, +who are busy people, might easily have overlooked that interesting +circumstance had not Jack chanced to allude to it at every opportune and +inopportune moment during the previous month or so. Indeed, to guard +against accidents, Jack had enlivened the conversation at the +breakfast-table morning by morning with really ingenious conjectures as +to the presents by which his personal friends might conceivably +accompany their congratulations. His expressions of disappointment in +certain supposititious cases, and of unbounded delight in others, was +quite affecting. + +Now Jack's father is afflicted by a wholesome dread of shopping. If a +purchase must needs be made, Jack's mother has to make it. But Jack's +mother labours under one severe disability. As Jack himself often tells +her--and certainly he ought to know--she doesn't understand boys. The +difficulty is therefore surmounted on this wise. Jack's mother visits +the emporium; carefully avoids all those goods and chattels of which she +has heard her son speak with such withering disdain; selects eight or +ten of the articles that he has chanced to mention in tones of +undisguised approval; orders these to be sent on approval at an hour at +which Jack will be sure to be at school; and leaves to her husband the +responsibility of making the final decision. Now this unwieldy parcel +was still lying under the bed in the spare room on that fateful morning +when Jack became smitten with toothache. Every other nostrum having +failed, the mind of Jack's mother strangely turned to the toys beneath +the bed. A woman's mind is an odd piece of mechanism, and works in +strange ways. No doctor under the sun would dream of prescribing a box +of tin soldiers as a remedy for toothache; yet the mind of Jack's mother +fastened upon that box of tin soldiers. It was just as cheap as some of +the other remedies to which they had so desperately resorted; and it +could not possibly be less efficacious. And there would still be plenty +of toys to choose from for the birthday present. Out came the box of +soldiers, and off went Jack in greatest glee. Half an hour later his +mother found him in the back garden. He had dug a trench two inches +deep, piling up the earth in protective heaps in front of it. All along +the trench stood the little tin soldiers heroically defying the armies +of the universe. And the toothache was ancient history! + +Jack managed to get his little tin soldiers into a tiny two-inch trench; +but, as a matter of serious fact, those diminutive warriors have +occupied a really great place in the story of this little world. Bagehot +somewhere draws a pathetic picture of crowds of potential authors who, +having the time, the desire, and the ability to write, are yet unable +for the life of them to think of anything to write about. Let one of +these unfortunates bend his unconsecrated energies to the writing of a +book on the influence of toys in the making of men. Only the other day +an antiquarian, digging away in the neighbourhood of the Pyramids, came +upon an old toy-chest. Here were dolls, and soldiers, and wooden +animals, and, indeed, all the playthings that make up the stock-in-trade +of a modern nursery. It is pleasant to think of those small Egyptians +in the days of the Pharaohs amusing themselves with the selfsame toys +that beguiled our own childhood. It is pleasant to think of the place of +the toy-chest in the history of the world from that remote time down to +our own. + +But I must not be deflected into a discussion of the whole tremendous +subject of toys. I must stick to these little tin soldiers. And these +small metallic warriors cut a really brave figure in our history. Some +of the happiest days in Robert Louis Stevenson's happy life were the +days that he spent as a boy in his grandfather's manse at Colinton. +'That was my golden age!' he used to say. He never forgot the rickety +old phaeton that drove into Edinburgh to fetch him; the lovely scenery +on either side of the winding country road; or the excited welcome that +always awaited him when he drove up to the manse door. But most vividly +of all he remembered the box of tin soldiers; the marshalling of huge +armies on the great mahogany table; the play of strategy; the furious +combat; and the final glorious victory. The old gentleman sat back in +his spacious arm-chair, cracking his nuts and sipping his wine, whilst +his imaginative little grandson in his velvet suit controlled the +movements of armies and the fates of empires. The love of those little +tin soldiers never forsook him. Later on, at Davos, an exile from home, +fighting bravely against that terrible malady that had marked him as its +prey, it was to the little tin soldiers that he turned for comfort. 'The +tin soldiers most took his fancy,' says Mr. Lloyd Osbourne, 'and the war +game was constantly improved and elaborated, until, from a few hours, a +war took weeks to play, and the critical operations in the attic +monopolized half our thoughts. On the floor a map was roughly drawn in +chalks of different colours, with mountains, rivers, towns, bridges, and +roads in two colours. The mimic battalions marched and countermarched, +changed by measured evolutions from column formation into line, with +cavalry screens in front and massed supports behind in the most approved +military fashion of to-day. It was war in miniature, even to the making +and destruction of bridges; the entrenching of camps; good and bad +weather, with corresponding influence on the roads; siege and horse +artillery, proportionately slow, as compared with the speed of unimpeded +foot, and proportionately expensive in the upkeep; and an exacting +commissariat added the last touch of verisimilitude.' Those little tin +soldiers marched up and down the whole of Robert Louis Stevenson's life. +They were with him in boyhood at Colinton; they were with him in +maturity at Davos; and they were in at the death. For, in the familiar +house at Vailima, the house on the top of the hill, the house from +which his gentle spirit passed away, there was one room dedicated to the +little tin soldiers. The great coloured map monopolized the floor, and +the tiny regiments marched or halted at their frail commander's will. + +One could multiply examples almost endlessly. We need not have followed +Robert Louis Stevenson half-way round the world. We might have visited +Ireland and seen Mr. Parnell's box of toys. Everybody knows the story of +his victory over his sister. Fanny commanded one division of tin +soldiers on the nursery floor; Charles led the opposing force. Each +general was possessed of a popgun, and swept the serried lines of the +enemy with this terrible weapon. For several days the war continued +without apparent advantage being gained by either side. But one day +everything was changed. Strange as it may seem, Fanny's soldiers fell by +the score and by the hundred, while those commanded by her brother +refused to waver even when palpably hit. This went on until Fanny's army +was utterly annihilated. But Charles confessed, an hour later, that, +before opening fire that morning, he had taken the precaution to glue +the feet of his soldiers to the nursery floor! Did somebody discover in +those war games at Colinton, Davos, and Vailima a reflection, as in a +mirror, of the adventurous spirit of Robert Louis Stevenson? Or, even +more clearly, did somebody see, in that famous fight on the nursery +floor at Avondale, a forecast of the great Irish leader's passionate +fondness for outwitting his antagonists and overwhelming his bewildered +foe? + +Then let us glance at one other picture, and we shall see what we shall +see! We are in Russia now. It is at the close of the seventeenth +century. Yonder is a boy of whom the world will one day talk till its +tongue is tired. They will call him Peter the Great. See, he gathers +together all the boys of the neighbourhood and plays with them. +Plays--but at what? 'He plays soldiers, of course,' says Waliszewski, +'and, naturally, he was in command. Behold him, then, at the head of a +regiment! Out of this childish play rose that mighty creation, the +Russian army. Yes,' our Russian author goes on to exclaim, 'yes, this +double point of departure--the pseudo-naval games on the lake of +Pereislavl, and the pseudo-military games on the Preobrajenskoie +drill-ground--led to the double goal--the Conquest of the Baltic and the +Battle of Poltava!' Yes, to these, and to how much else? When Jack cures +his toothache with a box of soldiers, who knows what world-shaking +evolutions are afoot? + +And now the time has come to make a serious investigation. Why is +Jack--taking Jack now as the federal head and natural representative of +Robert Louis Stevenson, Charles Stewart Parnell, Peter the Great, and +all the boys who ever were, are, or will be--why is Jack so inordinately +fond of a box of soldiers? By what magic have those tiny tin campaigners +the power to exorcise the agonies of toothache? Now look; the answer is +simple, and it is twofold. The small metallic warriors appeal to the +innate love of _Conquest_ and to the innate love of _Command_. And in +that innate love of Conquest is summed up all Jack's future relationship +to his foes. And in that innate love of Command is summed up all his +future relationship to his friends. For long, long ago, in the babyhood +of the world, God spoke to man for the first time. And in that very +first sentence, God said, 'Subdue the earth and have dominion!' +'Subdue!'--that is Conquest; 'have dominion!'--that is Command. And +since the first man heard those martial words, 'Subdue and have +dominion!' the passions of the conqueror and the commander have tingled +in the blood of the race. They have been awakened in Jack by the box of +soldiers. He feels that he is born to fight, born to struggle, born to +overcome, born to triumph, born to command. And that fighting instinct +will never really desert him. It will follow him, as it followed +Stevenson, from infancy to death. He may put it to evil uses. He may +fight the wrong people, or fight the wrong things. But that only shows +how vital a business is his training. A naval officer has to spend half +his time familiarizing himself with the appearance of all our British +battleships, in all lights and at all angles, so that he may never be +misled, amidst the confusion of battle, into opening fire upon his +comrades. As Jack looks up to us from his little two-inch trenches, his +innocent eyes seem to appeal eloquently for similar tuition. + +'Teach me what those forces are that I have to _conquer_,' he seems to +say, 'then teach me what forces I have to _command_, and I will spend +all my days in the Holy War.' + +And, depend upon it, if we can show Jack how to bend to his will all the +mysterious forces at his disposal, and to recognize at a glance all the +alien forces that are ranged against him, we shall see him one day among +the conquerors who, with songs of victory on their lips and with palms +in their hands, share the rapture of the world's last triumph. + + + + +II + +LOVE, MUSIC, AND SALAD + + +It seems an odd mixture at first glance; but it isn't mine. Mr. Wilkie +Collins is responsible for the amazing hotch-potch. 'What do you say,' +he asks in _The Moonstone_, 'what do you say when our county member, +growing hot, at cheese and salad time, about the spread of democracy in +England, burst out as follows: "If we once lose our ancient safeguards, +Mr. Blake, I beg to ask you, what have we got left?" And what do you say +to Mr. Franklin answering, from the Italian point of view, "_We have got +three things left, sir--Love, Music, and Salad_"'? I confess that, when +first I came upon this curious conglomeration, I thought that Mr. +Franklin meant Love, Music, and Salad to stand for a mere +incomprehensible confusion, a meaningless jumble. I examined the +sentence a second time, however, and began to suspect that there was at +least some method in his madness. And now that I scrutinize it still +more closely, I feel ashamed of my first hasty judgement. I can see that +Love, Music, and Salad are the fundamental elements of the solar +system; and, as Mr. Franklin suggests, so long as they are left to us we +can afford to smile at any political convulsions that may chance to +overtake us. + +Love, Music, and Salad are the three biggest things in life. Mr. +Franklin has not only outlined the situation with extraordinary +precision, but he has placed these three basic factors in their exact +scientific order. Love comes first. Indeed, we only come because Love +calls for us. We find it waiting with outstretched arms on arrival. It +smothers our babyhood with kisses, and hedges our infancy about with its +ceaseless ministry of doting affection. Love is the beginning of +everything; I need not labour that point. Where there is no love there +is neither music nor salad, nor anything else worth writing about. + +Mr. Franklin was indisputably right in putting Love first, and +immediately adding Music. You cannot imagine Love without Music. I am +hoping that one of these days one of our philosophers will give us a +book on the language that does not need learning. There is room for a +really fine volume on that captivating theme. Henry Drummond has a most +fascinating and characteristic essay on _The Evolution of Language_; but +from my present standpoint it is sadly disappointing. From first to last +Drummond works on the assumption that human language is a thing of +imitation and acquisition. The foundation of it all, he tells us, is in +the forest. Man heard the howl of the dog, the neigh of the horse, the +bleat of the lamb, the stamp of the goat; and he deliberately copied +these sounds. He noticed, too, that each animal has sounds specially +adapted for particular occasions. One monkey, we are told, utters at +least six different sounds to express its feelings; and Darwin +discovered four or five modulations in the bark of the dog. 'There is +the bark of eagerness, as in the chase; that of anger, as well as +growling; the yelp or howl of despair, as when shut up; the baying at +night; the bark of joy, as when starting on a walk with his master; and +the very distinct one of demand or supplication, as when wishing for a +door or window to be opened.' Drummond appears to assume that primitive +man listened to these sounds and copied them, much as a child speaks of +the bow-wow, the moo-moo, the quack-quack, the tick-tick, and the +puff-puff. But in all this we leave out of our reckoning one vital +factor. The most expressive language that we ever speak is the language +that we never learned. As Darwin himself points out, there are certain +simple and vivid feelings which we express, and express with the utmost +clearness, but without any kind of reference to our higher intelligence. +'Our cries of pain, fear, surprise, anger, together with their +appropriate actions, and the murmur of a mother to her beloved child, +are more expressive than any words.' + +Is not this a confession of the fact that the soul, in its greatest +moments, speaks a language, not of imitation or of acquisition, but one +that it brought with it, a language of its own? The language that we +learn varies according to nationality. The speech of a Chinaman is an +incomprehensible jargon to a Briton; the utterance of a Frenchman is a +mere riot of sound to a Hindu. The language that we learn is affected +even by dialects, so that a man in one English county finds it by no +means easy to interpret the speech of a visitor from another. It is even +affected by rank and position; the speech of the plough-boy is one +thing, the speech of the courtier is quite another. So confusing is the +language that we learn! But let a man speak in the language that needs +no learning; and all the world will understand him. The cry of a child +in pain is the same in Iceland as in India, in Hobart as in Timbuctoo! +The soft and wordless crooning of a mother as she lulls her babe to +rest; the scream of a man in mortal anguish; the sudden outburst of +uncontrollable laughter; the sigh of regret; the titter of amusement; +and the piteous cry of a broken heart,--these know neither nationality +nor rank nor station. They are the same in castle as in cottage; in +Tasmania as in Thibet; in the world's first morning as in the world's +last night. The most expressive language, the only language in which the +soul itself ever really speaks, is a language without alphabet or +grammar. It needs neither to be learned nor taught, for all men speak +it, and all men understand. + +Was that, consciously or subconsciously, at the back of Mr. Franklin's +mind when he put Music next to Love? Certain it is that, in that +unwritten language which is greater than all speech, Music is the +natural expression of Love. Why is there music in the grove and the +forest? It is because love is there. The birds never sing so sweetly as +during the mating season. For awhile the male bird hovers about the +person of his desired bride, and pours out an incessant torrent of song +in the fond hope of one day winning her; and when his purpose is +achieved, he goes on singing for very joy that she is his. And +afterwards he 'gallantly perches near the little home, pouring forth his +joy and pride, sweetly singing to his mate as she sits within the nest, +patiently hatching her brood.' Both in men and women it is at the +approach of the love-making age that the voice suddenly develops, and it +is when the deepest chords in the soul are first struck that the richest +and fullest notes can be sung. + +Music, then, is the natural concomitant of Love. That is why most of +our songs are love-songs. If a man is in love he can no more help +singing than a bird can help flying. You cannot love anything without +singing about it. Men love God; that is why we have hymn-books. Men love +women; that is why we have ballads. Men love their country; that is why +we have national anthems and patriotic airs. + +But the stroke of genius in Mr. Franklin lay in the addition of the +Salad. If he had contented himself with Love and Music, he would have +uttered a truth, and a great truth; but it would have been a commonplace +truth. As it is, he lifts the whole thing into the realm of +brilliance--and reality. For, after all, of what earthly use are Love +and Music unless they lead to Salad? When to Love and Music Mr. Franklin +shrewdly added Salad, he put himself in line with the greatest +philosophers of all time. Bishop Butler told us years ago that if we +allow emotions which are designed to lead to action to become excited, +and no action follows, the very excitation of that emotion without its +appropriate response leaves the heart much harder than it was before. +And, more recently, our brilliant Harvard Professor, Dr. William James, +has warned us that it is a very damaging thing for the mind to receive +an _impression_ without giving that impression an adequate and +commensurate _expression_. If you go to a concert, he says, and hear a +lovely song that deeply moves you, you ought to pay some poor person's +tram fare on the way home. It is a natural as well as a psychological +law. The earth, for example, receives the impression represented by the +fall of autumn leaves, the descent of sap from the bough, and the +widespread decay of wintry desolation. But she hastens to give +expression to this impression by all the wealth and plenitude of her +glorious spring array. + +The New Testament gives us a great story which exactly illustrates my +point. It is a very graceful and tender record, full of Love and Music, +but containing also something more than Love and Music. For when Dorcas +died all the widows stood weeping in the chamber of death, showing the +coats that Dorcas had made while she was yet with them. Dorcas was a +Jewess. At one time she had been taught to regard the name of Jesus as a +thing to be abhorred and accursed. But later on a wonderful experience +befell her. Could she ever forget the day on which, amidst a whirl of +spiritual bewilderment and a tempest of spiritual emotion, she had +discovered, in the very Messiah whom once she had despised, her Saviour +and her Lord? It was a day never to be forgotten, a day full of Love and +Music. How could she produce an expression adequate to that wonderful +impression? Not in words; for she was not gifted with speech. Yet an +expression must be found. It would have been a fatal thing for the +delicate soul of Dorcas if so turgid a flood of feeling had found no apt +and natural outlet. And in that crisis she thought of her needle. She +expressed her love for the Lord in the occupation most familiar to her. +It was a kind of storage of energy. Dorcas wove her love for her Lord +into every stitch, and a tender thought into every stitch, and a fervent +prayer into every stitch. And that spiritual storage escaped through +warm coats and neat garments into the hearts and homes of these widows +and poor folk along the coast, and they learned the depth and tenderness +of the divine love from the deft finger-tips of Dorcas. + +Salad is the natural and fitting outcome of Love and Music. I have +already confessed that when first I came upon the triune conjunction I +thought it rather an incongruous medley, a strange hotch-potch, an +ill-assorted company. That is the worst of judging things in a hurry. +The eye does the work of the brain, and does it badly. It is a common +failing of ours. Look at the torrent of toothless jokes that have been +directed at the contrast between the romance of courtship and the +domestic realities that follow. The former, according to the traditional +estimate, consists of billing and cooing, of fervent protestations and +radiant dreams, of romantic loveliness and honeyed phrases. The latter, +according to the same traditional view, consists of struggle and +anxiety, of drudgery and menial toil, of broken nights with tiresome +children, of nerve-racking anxiety and an endless sequence of troubles. +He who looks at life in this way makes precisely the same mistake that I +myself made when I first saw Mr. Franklin's Love, Music, and Salad, and +thought it a higgledy-piggledy hotch-potch. It is nothing of the kind. +Love naturally leads to Music; and Love and Music naturally lead to +Salad. Courtship leads to the cradle and the kitchen, it is true; but +both cradle and kitchen are glorified and consecrated by the courtship +that has gone before. Our English homes, take them for all in all, are +the loveliest things in the world. + + The merry homes of England! + Around their hearths by night, + What gladsome looks of household love + Meet in the ruddy light! + There woman's voice flows forth in song, + Or childhood's tale is told; + Or lips move tunefully along + Some glorious page of old. + +Here is a picture of Love, Music, and Salad in perfect combination. And +what a secret lies behind it! The fact is that the heathen world has +nothing at all corresponding to our English sweethearting. Men and +women are thrown into each other's arms by barter, by compact, by +conquest, and in a thousand ways. In one land a man buys his bride; in +another he fights as the brutes do for the mate of his fancy; in yet +another he takes her without seeing her, it was so ordained. Only in a +land that has felt the spell of the influence of Jesus would +sweethearting, as we know it, be possible. The pure and charming freedom +of social intercourse; the liberty to yield to the mystic magnetism that +draws the one to the other, and the other to the one; the coy approach; +the shy exchanges; the arm-in-arm walks, and the heart-to-heart talks; +the growing admiration; the deepening passion; culminating at last in +the fond formality of the engagement and the rapture of ultimate union; +in what land, unsweetened by the power of the gospel, would such a +procedure be possible? And the consequence is that our homes stand in +such striking contrast to the homes of heathen peoples. 'There are no +homes in Asia!' Mr. W. H. Seward, the American statesman, exclaimed +sadly, fifty years ago. It is scarcely true now, for Christ is gaining +on Asia every day; and the missionaries confess that the greatest +propagating power that the gospel possesses is the gracious though +silent witness of the Christian homes. Human life is robbed of all +animalism and baseness when true love enters. And there is no true love +apart from the highest love of all. + +Salad may seem a prosaic thing to follow on the heels of Love and Music; +but the salad that has been prepared by fingers that one thinks it +heaven to kiss is tinged and tinctured with the flavour of romance. All +through life, Love makes life's Music. All through life, Love and Music +lead to Salad. And, all through life, Love and Music glorify the Salad +to which they lead. They transmute it by this magic into such a dish as +many a king has sighed for all his days, but sighed in vain. + + + + +III + +THE FELLING OF THE TREE + + +I was strolling with some friends up a lovely avenue in the bush this +afternoon, when a quite unexpected experience befell us. On either side +of the narrow track the tall trees jostled each other at such close +quarters that, when we looked up, only a ribbon of sky could be seen +above our heads. The tree-tops almost arched over us. Straight before us +was a hill surmounted by a number of gigantic blue-gums, only one or two +of which were visible in the limited section of the landscape which the +foliage about us permitted us to survey. As we sauntered leisurely along +the leafy path, thinking of anything but the objects immediately +surrounding us, we were suddenly startled by a loud and ominous creaking +and straining. Looking hastily up, we saw one of the giant trees +falling, and describing in its fall an enormous arc against the clear +sky ahead of us. What a crash as the toppling monster strikes the +tree-tops among which it falls! What a thud as the huge thing hits the +ground! What a roar as it rolls over the hill, bearing down all lesser +growths before it! Our first impression was that the tree had been +reduced by natural forces; but we soon discovered that it had been +deliberately destroyed! The men were already at work upon a second +magnificent fellow; and we waited until he too was prostrate. + +Nothing in the solar system suggests such a mixture of emotion as the +felling of a great tree. In a way, it is pleasant and exhilarating, or +why was Mr. Gladstone so fond of the exercise? And why were we so eager +to stay until the second tree was down? Richard Jefferies, who hated to +destroy things, and often could not bring himself to pull the trigger of +his gun, nevertheless felt the fascination of the axe. 'Much as I +admired the timber about the Chace,' he says, 'I could not help +sometimes wishing to have a chop at it. The pleasure of felling trees is +never lost. In youth, in manhood, so long as the arm can wield the axe, +the enjoyment is equally keen. As the heavy tool passes over the +shoulder, the impetus of the swinging motion lightens the weight, and +something like a thrill passes through the sinews. Why is it so pleasant +to strike? What secret instinct is it that makes the delivery of a blow +with axe or hammer so exhilarating?' What indeed! For certainly a wild +delight makes the heart beat faster, and sends the blood bounding +through the veins, as one sees the axes flash, the chips fly, the gash +grow deeper, and notices at last the first slow movement of the +glorious tree. + +And yet I confess that, mixed with this pungent sense of pleasure, there +was a still deeper emotion. The thing seems so irreparable. It is easy +enough to destroy these monarchs of the bush, but who can restore them +to their former grandeur? It must have been this sense of sadness that +led Beaconsfield--Gladstone's famous protagonist--to ordain in his will +that none of his beloved trees at Hughenden should ever be cut down. How +long had these trees stood here, these two giants that had been in a few +moments reduced to humiliating horizontality? I cannot tell. They must +have been here when all these hills and valleys were peopled only by the +aboriginals. They saw the black man prowl about the bush. From the hill +here, overlooking the bay, they must have seen Captain Cook's ships cast +anchor down the stream. They watched the coming of the white men; they +saw the convict ships arrive with their dismal freight of human +wretchedness; they witnessed the swift and tragic extermination of the +native race; they beheld a nation spring into being at their feet! Did +the great trees know that, as the white men exterminated the black men, +so the white men would exterminate _them_? Did they feel that the coming +of those strange vessels up the bay sealed their own doom? Before the +new-comers could build their homes, or lay out their farms, or plant +their orchards, they must make war on the trees with fire and axe. Homes +and nations can only be built by sacrifice, and the trees are the +innocent victims. + +I suppose that the sadness arises partly from the fact that the forest +is Man's oldest and most faithful friend, and one towards whom he is +inclined to turn with ever-increasing reverence and affection as the +years go by. With the advance of the years we all turn wistfully back to +the things that charmed our infancy, and the race obeys that selfsame +primal law. Almost every nation on the face of the earth traces its +history back to the forest primaeval. From the forest we sprang; and by +the forest we were originally sustained. And even when at length the +primitive race issued from those leafy recesses and devoted itself to +agriculture and to commerce, men still regarded their ancient fastnesses +as the storehouse from which they drew everything that was essential to +their progress and development. Man found the forest his warehouse, his +factory, his armoury, his all. With logs that he felled in the bush he +built his first primitive home; out of branches that he tore from the +trees he fashioned his first implements and tools; and when the +tranquillity that brooded over his pastoral simplicity was broken by +the shout of discord and the noise of tumult, it was to those selfsame +woods that he rushed for his first crude weapons of defence. +Architecture, agriculture, invention, and military ingenuity have each +of them made enormous strides since then; but it was in the bush that +each of these potent makers of our destiny was born. And did not John +Smeaton confess that he borrowed from the graceful curve of the oak as +it rises from the ground the main idea that characterized the +construction of the Eddystone lighthouse? Whenever the architect, the +farmer, the inventor, or the soldier desires to visit the scenes amidst +which his craft spent its earliest infancy, it will be to the forest +primaeval that he will turn his steps. Of medicine, too, the same may be +said; for, in those long and leisured days of sylvan quiet, men learned +the secrets of the bark and discovered the healing virtues that slept in +the swaying leaves; and straightway the forest became a pharmacy. When, +exhausted by his labour, or enervated by unaccustomed conditions, his +health failed him, Man resorted for his first drugs and tonics to his +ancient home among the trees. Indeed, he still returns to the forest to +be nursed and tended in his hour of sickness. + +Those who have read Gene Stratton Porter's _Harvester_ know what wonders +lurk in the woods. The Harvester lived away in the forest, and from +bark and gum and sap and leaf he collected the tonics and anodynes and +stimulants that he sold to the chemists in the great cities. And after +awhile every tree that he felled seemed to him such a wealthy store of +healing virtue that, when he began to think of his dream-girl and his +future home, he could scarcely bring himself to build his cabin out of +logs that were so overflowing with medicinal properties. He was in love, +and all the tumultuous emotions awakened by that great experience were +surging through his veins; and yet it seemed to him an act of sacrilege +to cut chairs and tables out of such sacred things as trees! He +apologetically explained the delicacy of the situation to each oak and +ash before lifting his axe against it. + +'You know how I hate to kill you!' he said to the first one he felled. +'But it must be legitimate, you know, for a man to take enough trees to +build a home. And no other house is possible for a creature of the woods +but a cabin, is it? The birds use the material they find here; and +surely I have a right to do the same. Nothing else would serve, at least +for me. I was born and reared here, and I've always loved you!' + +But for all that, he felt, as the fragrant chips flew in all directions, +just as a man might feel who killed a pet lamb for the table; and the +Harvester could scarcely reconcile himself to his iconoclastic work. In +Medicine Woods he had learned the awful sanctity of the forest, the +forest that was the home and nurse and mother of us all, and it seemed +to him a dreadful thing to slay a tree. Frazer tells us in his _Golden +Bough_ that the Ojibwa Indians very rarely cut down green or living +trees; they fancy that it puts the poor things to such pain. And some of +their medicine men aver that, with their mysterious powers of hearing, +they have heard the wailing and the screaming of the trees beneath the +axe. Mr. Adams, too, in his _Israel's Ideal_, has reminded us that, in +Eastern Africa, the destruction of the cocoanut-tree is regarded as a +form of matricide, since that tree gives men life and nourishment as a +mother does her child. The early Greek philosophers, Aristotle and +Plutarch, watching the rustling of the leaves and the swaying of the +graceful branches, came to the conclusion that trees are sentient things +possessed of living souls. And, in his _Tales for Children_, Tolstoy +makes as pathetic a scene out of the death of a great tree as many a +novelist makes out of the death of a gallant hero. + +Now it must have been out of this strange feeling--this dim +consciousness of a sacredness that haunted the leafy solitudes--that Man +came to regard the forest with superstitious gratitude and veneration. +The bush represented to him the source of all his supplies, the +reservoir that met all his demands, the means of all healing, and the +very fountain of life. And so he plunged into the depths of the forest +and erected his temples there; in its shady groves he reared his solemn +altars; in its leafy glades he built his shrines; and the imagery of the +forest wove itself into the vocabulary of his devotion. The +representation of a sacred tree occurs repeatedly, carved upon the stony +ruins of Egyptian, Assyrian, and Phoenician temples, and Herodotus more +than once remarks upon the frequency of tree-worship among the ancient +peoples. Pliny, too, marvelled at the reverence which the Druids felt +for the oak, and, in a scarcely less degree, for the holly, the ash, and +the birch. And what stirring passages those are in which George Borrow +describes the weird rites and dark symbolism of the gipsies as they +worshipped at dead of night in the fearsome recesses of the pine forests +of Spain! + +It is really not surprising that this haunting sense of sanctity in the +woods should lead Man to worship there. Even Emerson felt that-- + + The Gods talk in the breath of the woods, + They talk in the shaken pine. + +And the Harvester himself found the forest to be instinct with moral and +spiritual potencies. 'You not only discover miracles and marvels in the +woods,' he said, 'but you get the greatest lessons taught in all the +world ground into you early and alone--courage, caution, and patience.' +Here, then, we have the trees as teachers and preachers, and many a man +has learned the deepest lessons of his life at the feet of these shrewd +and silent philosophers. What about Brother Lawrence, whose _Practice of +the Presence of God_ has become one of the Church's classics? 'The first +time I saw Brother Lawrence,' writes his friend, 'was upon August 3, +1666. He told me that God had done him a singular favour in his +conversion at the age of eighteen. It happened in this way. One winter +morning, seeing a tree stripped of its leaves, and considering that +within a little time the leaves would be renewed, and that after that +the flowers and fruit would appear, he received a high view of the +providence and power of God, which has never since been effaced from his +soul.' What God could do for the leafless tree, he thought, He could +also do for him. + +Milton tells us that the forest, which has played so large a part in the +development of this world, will flourish also in the next. + + In heaven the trees + Of life ambrosial fruitage bear, and vines + Yield nectar. + +And, having all this in mind, is it not pleasant to notice that the very +last chapter of the Bible tells of the tree that waves by the side of +the river of life? There is something sacramental about trees. George +Gissing says that Odysseus cutting down the olive in order to build for +himself a home is a picture of man performing a supreme act of piety. +'Through all the ages,' he says, 'that picture must retain its profound +significance.' The trees of Medicine Woods yielded up their life to the +Harvester's axe, that he and his dream-girl might dwell in security and +bliss. And, on a green hill far away without a city wall, another tree +was cut down years ago, that it might represent to all men everywhere +the means of grace and the hope of glory. And even more than all the +other trees, the leaves of _that_ tree are for the healing of the +nations. + + + + +IV + +SPOIL! + + +We were sitting round the fire last night when a boy came rushing up the +street shouting, 'The latest war news.' I went to the door, bought a +paper, and settled down again to read it. All at once the word 'siege' +caught my eye, and, after glancing over the cablegram to which it +referred, I lay back in the chair and allowed my mind to roam among the +romantic recollections that the great word had suggested. I thought of +the Siege of Lucknow in the East, of the Siege of Mexico in the West, +and of the Siege of Londonderry midway between. Who that has once read +the thrilling narratives of these famous exploits can resist the +temptation occasionally to set his fancy free to revisit the scenes of +those tremendous struggles? My reverie was rudely interrupted. + +'Run along, Wroxie, dear, it's past bedtime!' a maternal voice from the +opposite chair suddenly expostulated. + +'But, mother, I _must_ do my Scripture-lesson, and I've _nearly_ +finished!' + +'What have you to do, Wroxie?' I inquired, appointing myself arbitrator +on the instant. + +'I have to learn these eight verses of the hundred and nineteenth +Psalm!' + +'Well, read them aloud to us, and then run off to bed!' I commanded. + +She read. I am afraid I had no ears for any of the later verses. For +among the very first words that she read were these: '_I rejoice at Thy +Word as one that findeth great spoil_.' I had read those familiar words +hundreds of times, but it was like passing a closed door. But to-night +my memories of the great historic sieges supplied me with the key. 'As +one that findeth great _spoil_' ... 'findeth great _spoil_' ... 'great +_spoil_.' That one word '_spoil_' supplied me with the magic key. I +applied it; the door flew open; and I saw _that_ in the text which I had +never seen before. The lesson came to an end; the girlish tones +subsided; the reader kissed me good-night, and scampered off to bed, her +mother leaving the room in her company; and I was left once more to my +own imaginings. + +But my fancy flew in quite a fresh direction. The text had done for my +imprisoned mind what Noah did for the imprisoned dove. It had opened a +window of escape, and I was at liberty to go where I had never been +before. '_Spoil_!'--at the sound of that magic word the doors of truth +swung open as the great door of the robbers' dungeon in _The Forty +Thieves_ yielded to the sound of 'Open, Sesame!' A landscape may be +mirrored in a dewdrop; and here, in this arresting phrase, I suddenly +discovered all the picturesque colour and stirring movement of a great +siege. I saw the bastions and the drawbridges; the fortified walls and +the frowning ramparts; the lofty parapets and the stately towers. I +watched the fierce assault of the besiegers and the tumultuous sally of +the garrison. I heard the clash and din of strife. I marked the long, +grim struggle against impending starvation. And then, at last, I saw the +white flag flown. The proud city has fallen; the garrison has +surrendered; the gates are thrown open to the investing forces; and the +conqueror rides triumphantly in to seize his splendid prize! His +followers fall eagerly upon their booty, and grasp with greedy hands at +every glint of treasure that presents itself to their rapacious eyes. +Spoil; _spoil_; SPOIL! 'I rejoice at Thy Word as _one that findeth great +spoil_!' + + +I + +Now the most notable point about this metaphor is that the city only +yields up its treasure after long resistance. The besieger does not find +the city waiting with open gates to welcome him. It slams those gates +in his face; bars, bolts, and barricades them; and settles down to keep +him at bay as long as possible. The stubbornness of its brave resistance +lends an added sweetness to the final triumph of its conqueror; but, +whilst it lasts, that resistance is very baffling and vexatious. All the +best things in life follow the same strange law. See how the soil +resists the farmer! It stiffens itself against his approach, so that +only in the sweat of his brow can he plough and harrow it. It garrisons +itself with swarms of insect pests, so that his attempts to subjugate it +shall be rendered as ineffective and unfruitful as possible. It extends +eager hospitality to every noxious seed that falls upon its surface. It +encourages all the farmer's enemies, and fights against all his allies. +Labour makes the harvest sweeter, it is true; but whilst it is in +progress it is none the less exhausting. It is only by breaking down the +obstinate resistance of the unwilling soil that the farmer achieves the +golden triumph of harvest-time. The miner passes through the same trying +experience. The earth has nothing to gain by holding her gold and her +diamonds, her copper and her coal, in such a tight clutch. Yet she makes +the work of the miner a desperate and dangerous business. He takes his +life in his hand as he descends the shaft. The peril and the toil add a +greater value to the booty, I confess; but the work of the dark mine is +none the less trying on that account. He who would grasp the treasures +that lie buried in the bowels of the earth must first break down the +most determined and dogged resistance. And the treasures of the mind +also follow this curious law. There is no royal road to learning. +Knowledge resists the intruder. It presents an exterior that is +altogether revolting, and only the brave persist in the attack. The +text-books of the schools are rarely set to music; they do not tingle +with romance. They look as dry as dust, and they are often even more +arid than they look. I remember that, in my college days, the student +who sat next to me on the old familiar benches suddenly died. He was +brilliant; I was not. And when I heard that he had gone, the first +thought that occurred to me was a peculiar one. Had all his knowledge +perished with him? I asked myself. I thought of the problems that he had +mastered, but with which I was still grappling. Could he not have +bequeathed to me the fruits of his patient and hard-won victories? No; +it could not be. The city must be patiently besieged and gallantly +stormed before it will surrender. The coveted diploma may be all the +sweeter afterwards as a result of so long and persistent a struggle; but +that fact does not at the time relieve the tedium or lessen the +intolerable drudgery. Knowledge seems so good and so desirable a thing; +yet it resists the aspiring student with such pitiless and +unsympathetic pertinacity. + +Even love behaves in the same way. The lady keeps her lover at arm's +length. She would rather die than not be his, but she must guard her +modesty at all hazards. She must not make herself too cheap. She assumes +a frigidity that is in hopeless conflict with the warmth of her real +sentiments. Her apparent indifference and repeated rebuffs nearly drive +her poor wooer to distraction. Her kisses are all the sweeter later on +when she is delightfully and avowedly his own; but whilst the siege of +her affections lasts the torment almost wrecks his reason. It is really +no hypocrisy on her part. It is the recognition of a true instinct. All +the best things resist us, and their resistance has to be overcome. And +the psalmist declares that even the divine Word treated him in the +selfsame way. It did not entice, allure, fascinate; that is usually the +policy of evil things. No; it repelled, resisted, dared him! And it was +not until he had conquered that hostility that he entered into his +triumph. It was in the carcase of the fierce lion he had previously +destroyed that Samson found the honey that was so sweet to his taste. We +generally find our spoil in the cities that slammed their great gates in +our faces. + + +II + +But the city capitulates for all that. It may hold out stubbornly, and +for long, but it always yields at the last. It was so ordained. The soil +was meant to resist the farmer; but it was also meant to yield to the +farmer at length, and to furnish him with his proud and delightful +prize. The minerals are hidden so cleverly, and buried so deeply, not +that they may successfully elude the vigilance and skill of the heroic +miner, but in order that he may justly prize the precious metals when +they fall at last into his hands. The student's tedious struggle after +knowledge is made so painful a process, not to deter or defeat him, but +so that, side by side with the acquisition of learning, he may develop +those faculties of brain and intellect which can alone qualify him to +wield with wisdom the erudition that he is now so laboriously amassing. +The lady treats her poor lover with such seeming disdain, not by any +means to dishearten him, but that she may make quite sure that his +ardour is no mere passing whim, but a deep and enduring attachment. In +each case capitulation is agreed upon if only the besieger is +sufficiently gallant and persistent. The best things, and even the +holiest things, 'hold us off that they may draw us on'--to use +Tennyson's expressive phrase. + +To cite a single example, what a wonder-story is that of the +Syro-Phoenician woman! The Master conceals Himself from her; treats her +anguish with apparent indifference; preserves a frigid silence in face +of her passionate entreaty; and offers exasperating rebuffs in reply to +her desperate arguments! But did He design to destroy her faith? Let us +see! Like a gallant besieger, she sat down before the city with +indomitable courage and patience. Beaten back at one gate, she instantly +stormed another. Resisted at one redoubt, she mustered all her forces in +the effort to reduce a second. And at last 'Jesus answered and said unto +her, O woman, great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt!' +The capitulation was a predetermined policy; but the courage and +pertinacity of the besieger must be tested to the utmost before the +gates can be finally thrown open. + + +III + +And then the victors fly upon the spoil! The repelling Word yields, and +is found to contain wealth beyond the dreams of avarice. 'I rejoice at +Thy Word as one that findeth great spoil.' _Spoil_! We have all felt the +thrill of those tremendous pages in which Gibbon describes the sack of +Rome by the all-victorious Goths. We seem to have witnessed with our +own eyes the glittering wealth of the queenly city poured at the feet of +the rapacious conqueror. Or, in Prescott's stately stories, we have +watched the fabulous hoards of Montezuma, and the heaped-up gold of +Atahuallpa, piled at the feet of Cortes and Pizarro. Or if, forsaking +the shining spoils of the Goths in Europe and the gleaming argosies +which the Spaniards brought from the West, we turn to a later date and +an Eastern clime, we instinctively recall the glowing periods of +Macaulay in his story of the conquests of Clive. After his amazing +victory at Plassey, 'the treasury of Bengal was thrown open to him. +There were piled up, after the usage of Indian princes, immense masses +of coin. Clive walked between heaps of gold and silver, crowned with +rubies and diamonds, and was at liberty to help himself. He accepted +between two and three hundred thousand pounds.' He was afterwards +accused of greed. He replied by describing the countless wealth by which +he was that day surrounded. Vaults piled with gold and with jewels were +at his mercy. 'To this day,' he exclaimed, 'I stand astonished at my own +moderation!' + +Here, then, is the magic key that opens to us the secret in the +psalmist's mind. 'I rejoice at Thy Word as one that findeth great +spoil.' The besiegers pour into the city. Every house is ransacked. In +the most unlikely places the citizens have concealed their treasures, +and in the most unlikely places, therefore, the invaders come upon their +spoils. Out from queer old drawers and cupboards, out of strange old +cracks and crannies, the precious hoard is torn. As the besiegers rush +from house to house you hear the shout and the laughter with which +another and yet another find is greeted. So was it with his conquest of +the Word, the psalmist tells us. At first it resisted and repelled him. +But afterwards its gates were opened to his challenge. He entered the +city and began his search for spoil. And, lo, from out of every promise +and precept, out of every innocent-looking clause or insignificant +phrase, the treasures of truth came pouring, until he found himself +possessed at length of a wealth compared with which the pomp of princes +is the badge of beggary. + + + + +V + +A PHILOSOPHY OF FANCY-WORK + + +'"What course of lectures are you attending now, ma'am?" said Martin +Chuzzlewit's friend, turning again to Mrs. Jefferson Brick. + +'"The Philosophy of the _Soul_, on Wednesdays," replied Mrs. Brick. + +'"And on Mondays?" + +'"The Philosophy of _Crime_." + +'"On Fridays?" + +'"The Philosophy of _Vegetables_." + +'"You have forgotten Thursdays; the Philosophy of _Government_, my +dear," observed a third lady. + +'"No," said Mrs. Brick, "that's Tuesdays." + +'"So it is!" cried the lady. "The Philosophy of _Matter_ on Thursdays, +of course." + +'"You see, Mr. Chuzzlewit, our ladies are fully employed," observed his +friend.' + +They were indeed; but for the life of me I cannot understand why, amidst +so many philosophies, the Philosophy of _Fancy-work_ was so cruelly +ignored. I should have thought it quite as suitable and profitable a +study for Mrs. Jefferson Brick and her lady friends as some of the +subjects to which they paid their attention. + +'Whatever are you making now, dear?' asked a devoted husband of his +spouse the other evening. + +'Why, an antimacassar, George, to be sure; can't you see?' + +'And what on earth is the good of an antimacassar, I should like to +know?' + +'Stupid man!' + +Stupid man, indeed! But there it is! And for the crass stupidity of +their husbands, Mrs. Jefferson Brick and her philosophical friends have +only themselves to blame. If they had included the Philosophy of +Fancy-work in their syllabus of lectures, they might have acquired such +a grasp of a great and vital subject that they would have been able to +convince their husbands that there is nothing in the house quite so +useful as an antimacassar. The pots and the pans, the chairs and the +tables, are nowhere in comparison. The antimacassar is the one +indispensable article in the establishment. Let no man attempt to deride +or belittle it. + +As it is, however, Mrs. Jefferson Brick and her friends have never +really studied the Philosophy of Fancy-work, and have never therefore +been in a position to enlighten the darkened minds of their benighted +husbands. As an inevitable consequence, those husbands continue to +regard the busy needles as an amiable frailty pertaining to the sex of +their better halves. In writing thus, I am thinking of the +better-tempered husbands. Husbands of the other variety regard +fancy-work as an unmitigated nuisance. Mark Rutherford has familiarized +us with a husband who so regarded his wife's delicate traceries and +ornamentations. I refer, of course, to _Catherine Furze_. We all +remember Mrs. Furze's parlour at Eastthorpe. 'There was a sofa in the +room, but it was horse-hair with high ends both alike, not comfortable, +which were covered with curious complications called antimacassars, that +slipped off directly they were touched, so that anybody who leaned upon +them was engaged continually in warfare with them, picking them up from +the floor or spreading them out again. There was also an easy chair, but +it was not easy, for it matched the sofa in horse-hair, and was so +ingeniously contrived that, directly a person placed himself in it, it +gently shot him forwards. Furthermore, it had special antimacassars, +which were a work of art, and Mrs. Furze had warned Mr. Furze off them. +"He would ruin them," she said, "if he put his head upon them." So a +Windsor chair with a high back was always carried by Mr. Furze into the +parlour after dinner, together with a common kitchen chair, and on these +he took his Sunday nap.' The reader is made to feel that, on these +interesting occasions, Mr. Furze wished his wife and her antimacassars +at the bottom of the deep blue sea; and one rather admires his +self-restraint in not explicitly saying so. Mr. Furze is the natural +representative of all those husbands who see no rhyme or reason in +fancy-work. If only Mrs. Jefferson Brick had included that phase of +philosophy on her programme, and had passed on the illumination to some +member of the sterner sex! But let us indulge in no futile regrets. + +That there is a Philosophy of Fancy-work goes without saying. To begin +with, think of the relief to the overstrung nerves and the over-wrought +emotions, at the close of a trying day, in being able to sit down in a +cosy chair, and, when the eyes are too tired for reading, to finger away +at the needles, and get on with the antimacassar. Our grandmothers went +in for antimacassars instead of neurasthenia. 'It is astonishing,' +exclaimed the 'Lady of the Decoration,' 'how much bad temper one can +knit into a garment!' An earlier generation of wonderfully wise women +made that discovery, and worked all their discontents, and all their +evil tempers, and all their quivering nervousness into antimacassars. On +the whole it is cheaper than working them into drugs and doctors' bills, +and drugs and doctors' bills are certainly no more ornamental. + +In his essay on _Tedium_, Claudius Clear deals with that particular form +of tedium that arises from leaden hours. And he thinks that in this +respect women have an immense advantage over men. Men have to wait for +things, and they find the experience intolerable. But a woman turns to +her fancy-work, and is amused at her husband's uncontrollable +impatience. The antimacassar, he believes, gives just enough occupation +to the fingers to make absolute tedium impossible. The war has led to a +remarkable revival of knitting and of fancy-work. My present theme was +suggested to me on Saturday. I took my wife for a little excursion; she +took her knitting, and we saw ladies working everywhere. Two were busy +in the tram; we came upon one sitting in a secluded spot in the bush, +her deft needles chasing each other merrily. And on the river steamer +eleven ladies out of fifteen had their fancy-work with them. I could not +help thinking that, in not a few of these cases, the workers must derive +as much comfort from the occupation as the wearers will eventually +derive from the garments. Many a woman has woven all her worries into +her fancy-work, and has felt the greatest relief in consequence. One +such worker has borne witness to the consolation afforded her by her +needles. + + Silent is the house. I sit + In the firelight and knit. + At my ball of soft grey wool + Two grey kittens gently pull-- + Pulling back my thoughts as well, + From that distant, red-rimmed hell, + And hot tears the stitches blur + As I knit a comforter. + + 'Comforter' they call it--yes, + Such it is for my distress, + For it gives my restless hands + Blessed work. God understands + How we women yearn to be + Doing something ceaselessly. + Anything but just to wait + Idly for a clicking gate! + +We must, however, be perfectly honest; and to deal honestly with our +subject we must not ignore the classical example, even though that +example may not prove particularly attractive. The classical example is, +of course, Madame Defarge. Madame Defarge was the wife of Jacques +Defarge, who kept the famous wine-shop in _A Tale of Two Cities_. When +first we are introduced to the wine-shopkeeper and his wife, three +customers are entering the shop. They pull off their hats to Madame +Defarge. 'She acknowledged their homage by bending her head, and giving +them a quick look. Then she glanced in a casual manner round the +wine-shop, took up her knitting with great apparent calmness and repose +of spirit, and became absorbed in it.' Everybody who is familiar with +the story knows that here we have the stroke of the artist. Madame +Defarge, be it noted, took up her knitting with apparent calmness and +repose of spirit, and became absorbed in it. As a matter of fact, Madame +Defarge was absorbed, not in the knitting, but in the conversation; and +all that she heard with her ears was knitted into the garment in her +hands. The knitting was a tell-tale register. + +'"Are you sure," asked one of the wine-shopkeeper's accomplices one day, +"are you sure that no embarrassment can arise from our manner of keeping +the register? Without doubt it is safe, for no one beyond ourselves can +decipher it; but shall _we_ always be able to decipher it--or, I ought +to say, _will she_?" + +'"Man," returned Defarge, drawing himself up, "if Madame, my wife, +undertook to keep the register in her memory alone, she would not lose a +word of it--not a syllable of it. Knitted, in her own stitches, and her +own symbols, it will always be as plain to her as the sun. Confide in +Madame Defarge. It would be easier for the weakest poltroon that lives +to erase himself from existence than to erase one letter of his name or +crimes from the knitted register of Madame Defarge."' + +Oh those tell-tale needles! Up and down, to and fro, in and out they +flashed and darted, Madame seeming all the time so preoccupied and +inattentive! Yet into those innocent stitches there went the guilty +secrets; and when the secrets were revealed the lives and deaths of men +hung in the balance! Here, then, is a philosophy of fancy-work that will +carry us a very long way. The stitches are always a matter of life and +of death, however innocent or trivial they may seem. Whether I do a row +of stitches, or drive a row of nails, or write a row of words, I am a +little older when I fasten the last stitch, or drive the last nail, or +write the last word, than I was when I began. And what does that mean? +It means that I have deliberately taken a fragment of my life and have +woven it into my work. That is the terrific sanctity of the commonest +toil. It is instinct with life. 'Greater love hath no man than this, +that a man lay down his life for his friend,' and whenever I drive a +nail, or write a syllable, or weave a stitch for another, I have laid +down just so much of my life for his sake. + +But when we begin to exploit the possibilities of a Philosophy of +Fancy-work, we shall find our feet wandering into some very green +pastures and beside some very still waters. Fancy-work will lead us to +think about friendship, than which few themes are more attractive. For +the loveliest idyll of friendship is told in the phraseology of +fancy-work. 'And it came to pass that the soul of Jonathan was _knit_ to +the soul of David.' Knitting, knitting, knitting; up and down, to and +fro, in and out, see the needles flash and dart! Every moment that I +spend with my friend is a weaving of his life into mine, and of my life +into his; and pity me, men and angels, if I entangle the strands of my +life with a fabric that mars the pattern of my own! And pity me still +more if the inferior texture of my life impairs the perfection and +beauty of my friend's! Into the sacred domain of our sweetest +friendships, therefore, has this unpromising matter of fancy-work +conveyed us. But it must take us higher still. For 'there is a Friend +that sticketh closer than a brother,' and the web of my life will look +strangely incomplete at the last unless the fabric of my soul be found +knit and interwoven with the fair and radiant colours of His. + + + + +VI + +A PAIR OF BOOTS + + +There seems to be very little in a pair of boots--except, perhaps, a +pair of feet--until a great crisis arises; and in a great crisis all +things assume new values. When the war broke out, and empires found +themselves face to face with destiny, the nations asked themselves +anxiously how they were off for boots. When millions of men began to +march, boots seemed to be the only thing that mattered. The manhood of +the world rose in its wrath, reached for its boots, buckled on its +sword, and set out for the front. And at the front, if Mr. Kipling is to +be believed, it is all a matter of boots. + + Don't--don't--don't--don't--look at what's in front of you; + Boots--boots--boots--boots--moving up and down again; + Men--men--men--men--men go mad with watching 'em. + An' there's no discharge in the war. + + Try--try--try--try--to think o' something different-- + Oh--my--God--keep--me from going lunatic! + Boots--boots--boots--boots--moving up and down again + An' there's no discharge in the war. + + We--can--stick--out--'unger, thirst, an' weariness, + But--not--not--not--not the chronic sight of 'em-- + Boots--boots--boots--boots--moving up and down again! + An' there's no discharge in the war. + + 'Tain't--so--bad--by--day because o' company, + But--night--brings--long--strings o' forty thousand million + Boots--boots--boots--boots--moving up and down again! + An' there's no discharge in the war. + +A soldier sees enough pairs of boots in a ten-mile march to last him +half a lifetime. + +Yet, after all, are not these the most amiable things beneath the stars, +the things that we treat with derision and contempt in days of calm, but +for which we grope with feverish anxiety when the storm breaks upon us? +They go on, year after year, bearing the obloquy of our toothless little +jests; they go on, year after year, serving us none the less faithfully +because we deem them almost too mundane for mention; and then, when they +suddenly turn out to be a matter of life and death to us, they serve us +still, with never a word of reproach for our past ingratitude. If the +world has a spark of chivalry left in it, it will offer a most abject +apology to its boots. + +It would do a man a world of good, before putting on his boots, to have +a good look at them. Let him set them in the middle of the hearthrug, +the shining toes turned carefully towards him, and then let him lean +forward in his arm-chair, elbows on knees and head on hands, and let him +fasten on those boots of his a contrite and respectful gaze. And looking +at his boots thus attentively and carefully he will see what he has +never seen before. He will see that a pair of boots is one of the master +achievements of civilization. A pair of boots is one of the wonders of +the world, a most cunning and ingenious contrivance. Dan Crawford, in +_Thinking Black_, tells us that nothing about Livingstone's equipment +impressed the African mind so profoundly as the boots he wore. 'Even to +this remote day,' Mr. Crawford says, 'all around Lake Mweru they sing a +"Livingstone" song to commemorate that great "path-borer," the good +Doctor being such a federal head of his race that he is known far and +near as Ingeresa, or "The Englishman." And this is his memorial song: + + Ingeresa, who slept on the waves, + Welcome him, for he hath no toes! + Welcome him, for he hath no toes! + +That is to say, revelling in paradox as the negro does, he seized on the +facetious fact that this wandering Livingstone, albeit he travelled so +far, had no toes--that is to say, had _boots_, if you please!' Later on, +Mr. Crawford remarks again that the barefooted native never ceases to +wonder at the white man's boots. To him they are a marvel and a portent, +for, instead of thinking of the boot as merely covering the foot that +wears it, his idea is that those few inches of shoe carpet the whole +forest with leather. He puts on his boots, and, by doing so, he spreads +a gigantic runner of linoleum across the whole continent of Africa. Here +is a philosophical way of looking at a pair of boots! It has made my own +boots look differently ever since I read it. Why, these boots on the +hearthrug, looking so reproachfully up at me, are millions of times +bigger than they seem! They look to my poor distorted vision like a few +inches of leather; but as a matter of fact they represent hundreds of +miles of leathern matting. They make a runner paving the path from my +quiet study to the front doors of all my people's homes; they render +comfortable and attractive all the highways and byways along which duty +calls me. Looked at through a pair of African eyes, these British boots +assume marvellous proportions. They are touched by magic and are +wondrously transformed. From being contemptible, they now appear +positively continental. I am surprised that the subject has never +appealed to me before. + +Now this African way of looking at a pair of boots promises us a key to +a phrase in the New Testament that has always seemed to me like a locked +casket. John Bunyan tells us that when the sisters of the Palace +Beautiful led Christian to the armoury he saw such a bewildering +abundance of boots as surely no other man ever beheld before or since! +They were shoes that would never wear out; and there were enough of +them, he says, to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord +as there be stars in the heaven for multitude. Bunyan's prodigious stock +of shoes is, of course, an allusion to Paul's exhortation to the +Ephesian Christians concerning the armour with which he would have them +to be clad. 'Take unto you the whole armour of God ... and your feet +shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace.' + +Whenever we get into difficulties concerning this heavenly panoply, we +turn to good old William Gurnall. Master Gurnall beat out these six +verses of Paul's into a ponderous work of fourteen hundred pages, bound +in two massive volumes. One hundred and fifty of these pages deal with +the footgear recommended by the apostle; and Master Gurnall gives us, +among other treasures, 'six directions for the helping on of this +spiritual shoe.' But we must not be betrayed into a digression on the +matter of shoe-horns and kindred contrivances. Shoemaker, stick to thy +last! Let us keep to this matter of boots. Can good Master Gurnall, with +all his hundred and fifty closely printed pages on the subject, help us +to understand what Paul and Bunyan meant? What is it to have your feet +shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace? What are the shoes +that never wear out? Now the striking thing is that Master Gurnall looks +at the matter very much as the Africans do. He turns upon himself a +perfect fusillade of questions. What is meant by the gospel? What is +meant by peace? Why is peace attributed to the gospel? What do the feet +here mentioned import? What grace is intended by that 'preparation of +the gospel of peace' which is here compared to a shoe and fitted to +these feet? And so on. And in answering his own questions, and +especially this last one, good Master Gurnall comes to the conclusion +that the spiritual shoe which he would fain help us to put on is 'a +gracious, heavenly, and excellent spirit.' And his hundred and fifty +crowded pages on the matter of footwear give us clearly to understand +that the man who puts on this beautiful spirit will be able to walk +without weariness the stoniest roads, and to climb without exhaustion +the steepest hills. He shall tread upon the lion and adder; the young +lion and the dragon shall he trample under feet. In slimy bogs and on +slippery paths his foot shall never slide; and in the day when he +wrestles with principalities and powers, and with the rulers of the +darkness of this world, his foothold shall be firm and secure. 'Thy +shoes shall be iron and brass, and as thy days so shall thy strength +be.' Master Gurnall's teaching is therefore perfectly plain. He looks at +this divine footwear much as the Africans looked at Livingstone's boots. +The man whose feet are shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace +has carpeted for himself all the rough roads that lie before him. The +man who knows how to wear this 'gracious, heavenly, and excellent +spirit' has done for himself what Sir Walter Raleigh did for Queen +Elizabeth. He has already protected his feet against all the miry places +of the path ahead of him. If good Master Gurnall's 'six directions for +the helping on of this spiritual shoe' will really assist us to be thus +securely shod, then his hundred and fifty pages will yet prove more +precious than gold-leaf. + +Bunyan speaks of the amazing exhibition of footgear that Christian +beheld in the armoury as '_shoes that will not wear out_.' I wish I +could be quite sure that Christian was not mistaken. John Bunyan has so +often been my teacher and counsellor on all the highest and weightiest +matters that it is painful to have to doubt him at any point. The boots +may have looked as though they would never wear out; but, as all mothers +know, that is a way that boots have. In the shoemaker's hands they +always look as though they would stand the wear and tear of ages; but +put them on a boy's feet and see what they will look like in a month's +time! I am really afraid that Christian was deceived in this particular. +Paul says nothing about the everlasting wear of which the shoes are +capable; and the sisters of the Palace Beautiful seem to have said +nothing about it. I fancy Christian jumped too hastily to this +conclusion, misled by the excellent appearance and sturdy make of the +boots before him. My experience is that the shoes do wear out. The most +'gracious, heavenly, and excellent spirit' must be kept in repair. I +know of no virtue, however attractive, and of no grace, however +beautiful, that will not wear thin unless it is constantly attended to. +My good friend, Master Gurnall, for all his hundred and fifty pages does +not touch upon this point; but I venture to advise my readers that they +will be wise to accept Christian's so confident declaration with a +certain amount of caution. The statement that 'these shoes will not wear +out' savours rather too much of the spirit of advertisement; and we have +learned from painful experience that the language of an advertisement is +not always to be interpreted literally. + +One other thing these boots of mine seem to say to me as they look +mutely up at me from the centre of the hearthrug. Have they no history, +these shoes of mine? Whence came they? And at this point we suddenly +invade the realm of tragedy. The voice of Abel's blood cried to God from +the ground; and the voice of blood calls to me from my very boots. Was +it a seal cruelly done to death upon a northern icefloe, or a kangaroo +shot down in the very flush of life as it bounded through the Australian +bush, or a kid looking up at its slaughterer with terrified, pitiful +eyes? What was it that gave up the life so dear to it that I might be +softly and comfortably shod? And so every step that I take is a step +that has been made possible to me by the shedding of innocent blood. All +the highways and byways that I tread have been sanctified by sacrifice. +The very boots on the hearthrug are whispering something about +redemption. And most certainly this is true of the shoes of which the +apostle wrote, the shoes that the pilgrims saw at the Palace Beautiful, +the shoes that trudge their weary way through Master Gurnall's hundred +and fifty packed pages. These shoes could never have been placed at our +disposal apart from the shedding of most sacred blood. My feet may be +shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; but, if so, it is only +because the sacrifice unspeakable has already been made. + + + + +VII + +CHRISTMAS BELLS + + +It is an infinite comfort to us ordinary pulpiteers to know that even an +Archbishop may sometimes have a bad time! And, on the occasion of which +I write, the poor prelate must have had a very bad time indeed. +For--tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of +Askelon!--none of his hearers knew what he had been talking about! They +could make neither head nor tail of it! 'I have not been able to find +one man yet who could discover what it was about,' wrote one of his +auditors to a friend. It is certainly most humiliating when our +congregations go home and pen such letters for posterity to chuckle +over. And yet the ability of the preacher at this particular service, +and the intelligence of his hearers, are alike beyond question. For the +preacher was the famous Richard Chenevix Trench, D.D., Professor of +Theology at King's College, Dean of Westminster, and afterwards +Archbishop of Dublin. The sermon was preached in the classical +atmosphere of Cambridge University, principally to students and +undergraduates. The theme was the Incarnation--'_The Word was made +flesh_.' And the young fellow who wrote the plaintive epistle from +which I have quoted was Alfred Ainger, afterwards a distinguished +litterateur and Master of the Temple. He could make nothing of it. 'The +sermon, I am sorry to say, was universally disappointing. I have not +been able to find one man yet who could discover what it was about. It +is needless to say _I_ could not. He chose, too, one of the grandest and +deepest texts in the New Testament. He talked a great deal about St. +Augustine, but any more I cannot tell you.' + +Now Christmas will again come knocking at our doors, and many of us will +find ourselves preaching on this selfsame theme. And we have a wholesome +horror of sending our hearers home in the same fearful perplexity. 'What +on earth was the minister talking about?' All the cards and the carols, +the fun and the frolic, the pastimes and the picnics will be turned into +dust and ashes, into gall and wormwood, into vanity and vexation of +spirit to the poor preacher who suspects that his Christmas congregation +returned home in such a mood. His Christmas dinner will almost choke +him. There will be no merry Christmas for _him_! + +But let no minister be terrified or intimidated by the Archbishop's +unhappy experience. His 'bad time' may help us to enjoy a good one. We +must take his text, and wrestle with it bravely. It is the ideal +Christmas greeting. There is certainly depth and mystery; but there is +humanness and tenderness as well. + +'_The Word_ was made flesh.' Words are wonderful things, to say nothing +of '_the_ Word'--whatever _that_ may prove to be. This selfsame +Archbishop Trench, whose sermon at Cambridge proved such a universal +disappointment, has written a marvellous book _On the Study of Words_. +Here are seven masterly chapters to show that words are fossil poetry, +and petrified history, and embalmed romance, and that all the ages have +left the record of their tears and their laughter, of their virtues and +their vices, of their passion and their pain, in the _words_ that they +have coined. 'When I feel inclined to read poetry,' says Oliver Wendell +Holmes, 'I take down _my dictionary_! The poetry of words is quite as +beautiful as that of sentences. The author may arrange the gems +effectively, but their shape and lustre have been given by the attrition +of age. Bring me the finest simile from the whole range of imaginative +writing, and I will show you a single word which conveys a more +profound, a more accurate, and a more elegant analogy.' Words, then, are +jewel-cases, treasure-chests, strong-rooms; they are repositories in +which the archives of the ages are preserved. + +'The Word _was made flesh_.' We never grasp the Word until it is. Let me +illustrate my meaning. Here is a bonny little fellow of six, with sunny +face and a glorious shock of golden hair. His father hands him his first +spelling-book, with the alphabet on the front page, and little +two-letter monosyllables following. But what can he make of even such +small words? He will never learn the A.B.C. in that way. But give him a +_teacher_. Make the word flesh, and he will soon have it all off by +heart! + +Five years pass away. The lad is in the full swing of his school-days +now. But to-night, as he pores over his books, the once sunny face is +clouded, and the wavy hair covers an aching head. + +'Time for bed, sonny!' says mother at length. + +'But, mother, I haven't done my home lessons, _and I can't_.' + +'What is it all about, my boy?' she asks, as she draws her chair nearer +to his, and, putting her arm round his shoulder, reads the tiresome +problem. + +And then they talk it over together. And, somehow, under the magic of +her interest, it seems fairly simple after all. In her sympathetic +voice, and fond glance, and tender touch, the word becomes flesh, and he +grasps its meaning. + +Five more years pass away. He is sixteen, and a perfect book-worm. +Looking up from the story he is reading, he exclaims impatiently: + +'I can't think why they want to work these silly _love-stories_ into all +these books. A fellow can't pick up a decent book but there's a +love-story running through it. It's horrid!' He has come upon the +greatest word in the language; but it has no meaning for him! + +But five years later he understands! He has been captivated by a pure +and radiant face, by a charming and graceful form, by lovely eyes that +answer to his own. That great word _love_ has been made flesh to him, +and it simply gleams with meaning. And so, all through the years, as +life goes on, he finds the great key-words expounded to him through +infinite processes of incarnation. 'Ideas,' says George Eliot, 'are +often poor ghosts; our sun-filled eyes cannot discern them; they pass +athwart us in their vapour and cannot make themselves felt. But +sometimes _they are made flesh_; they breathe upon us with warm breath, +they touch us with soft responsive hand, they look at us with sad +sincere eyes, and speak to us in appealing tones; they are clothed in a +living human soul, with all its conflicts, its faith, and its love. Then +their presence is a power, then they shake us like a passion, and we are +drawn after them with gentle compulsion, as flame is drawn to flame.' + +And if this be so with other words, how could the greatest, grandest, +holiest word of all have been expressed except in the very selfsame way? +'_The_ Word was made flesh.' There was no other way of saying GOD +intelligibly. I should never, never, never have understood mere abstract +definitions of so august a term. And so--'In the beginning was the Word, +and the Word was GOD, and the Word was _made flesh_.' I can grasp that +great word now. Bethlehem and Olivet, Galilee and Calvary, have made it +wonderfully plain. The word GOD would have frightened me if it had never +been expressed in the terms of 'a Face like my face'--as Browning puts +it--and a heart that beats in sympathy with my own. And so Tennyson +says: + + And so the Word had breath, and wrought + With human hands the creed of creeds + In loveliness of perfect deeds, + More strong than all poetic thought; + + Which he may read that binds the sheaf, + Or builds the house, or digs the grave, + And those wild eyes that watch the wave + In roarings round the coral reef. + +And thus the most awful, the most terrible, and the most +incomprehensible word that human lips could frame has become the most +winsome and charming in the whole vocabulary. GOD is JESUS, and JESUS is +GOD! 'The Word was made flesh.' + +The same principle dominates all religious experience and enterprise. +Generally speaking, you cannot make a man a Christian by giving him a +Bible or posting him a tract. The New Testament lays it down quite +clearly that the Christian _man_ must accompany the Christian _message_. +The Word must be presented in its proper human setting. Our missionaries +all over the planet tell of the resistless influence exerted by gracious +Christian homes, and by holy Christian lives, in winning idolators from +superstition. I was reading only this morning a touching instance of a +young Japanese who trudged hundreds of miles to inquire after the secret +of 'the beautiful life'--as he called it--which he had seen exemplified +in some Christian missionaries. The Word, _made flesh_, is thus +pronounced with an accent and an eloquence which are simply +irresistible. + +'I said, and I repeat,' says Mr. Edwin Hodder, in his biography of Sir +George Burns, the founder of the Cunard Steamship Company, 'I said, and +I repeat, that if the Bible were blotted out of existence, if there were +no prayer-book, no catechism, and no creed, if there were no visible +Church at all, I could not fail to believe in the doctrines of +Christianity while the living epistle of Sir George Burns' life remained +in my memory.' That was Whittier's argument: + + The dear Lord's best interpreters + Are humble human souls; + The gospel of a life like his + Is more than books or scrolls. + + From scheme and creed the light goes out, + The saintly fact survives; + The blessed Master none can doubt, + Revealed in holy lives. + +We have reached a very practical aspect now of the message that the +Christmas bells will soon be ringing. The thoughts of men are only +intelligibly communicable by means of words; and the words of men only +become pregnant with passion and with power when they are _made flesh_. +And, in the same way, the thoughts of God to men are only eloquent when +they are so expressed. Revelation became sublimely rhetorical at +Bethlehem, and we can only perpetuate its eloquence through the agency +of lives transfigured. + + + +Transcriber's Notes + +Inconsistent hyphenation left as printed: heart-breaking/heartbreaking, +over-wrought/overwrought. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Faces in the Fire, by Frank W. Boreham + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42105 *** |