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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #64692 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64692)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Australian Essays, by Francis W. L. Adams
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Australian Essays
-
-Author: Francis W. L. Adams
-
-Release Date: March 04, 2021 [eBook #64692]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-Produced by: Nick Wall and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
- https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
- generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
- Libraries.)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUSTRALIAN ESSAYS ***
-
-
-
-
-
- _TWO SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE_
-
- AUSTRALIAN
- ESSAYS.
-
- BY
- FRANCIS W. L. ADAMS.
- _AUTHOR OF
- “LEICESTER, AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.”_
-
- Contents:
-
- PREFACE.
- MELBOURNE AND HER CIVILIZATION.
- THE POETRY OF ADAM LINDSAY GORDON.
- THE SALVATION ARMY.
- SYDNEY AND HER CIVILIZATION.
- CULTURE.
- “DAWNWARDS:” A DIALOGUE.
-
- PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY
- WILLIAM INGLIS & CO., 37, 38, & 39 FLINDERS STREET EAST,
- MELBOURNE.
-
- LONDON: GRIFFITH, FARRAN & CO.
-
- 1886.
-
-
-
-
-AUSTRALIAN ESSAYS.
-
-
-
-
-_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
-
-
-LEICESTER, AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. (REDWAY, Publisher, York Street, Covent
-Garden, London; 6_s_.)
-
-POEMS. (ELLIOT STOCK, Publisher, Paternoster Row, London; 5_s._)
-
-THE BRUCES, A Novel. (_Shortly_).
-
-MODERN ENGLISH POETS. (_Shortly_).
-
-VOYAGE ON THE ADELAIDE. (_Shortly_).
-
-
-
-
- AUSTRALIAN ESSAYS.
-
- BY
- FRANCIS W. L. ADAMS.
- _AUTHOR OF
- “LEICESTER, AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.”_
-
- Melbourne:
- WILLIAM INGLIS & CO., FLINDERS STREET EAST.
- LONDON PUBLISHERS: GRIFFITH, FARRAN & CO.
-
- MDCCCLXXXVI.
-
- MELBOURNE:
- WILLIAM INGLIS AND CO., PRINTERS,
- FLINDERS STREET EAST.
-
-
-
-
-_TO MATTHEW ARNOLD IN ENGLAND._
-
-
- ‘_Master, with this I send you, as a boy_
- _that watches from below some cross-bow bird_
- _swoop on his quarry carried up aloft,_
- _and cries a cry of victory to his flight_
- _with sheer joy of achievement—So to you_
- _I send my voice across the sundering sea,_
- _weak, lost within the winds and surfy waves,_
- _but with all glad acknowledgment fulfilled_
- _and honour to you and to sovran Truth!_’
-
- _January, 1886._
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS.
-
-
- PAGE.
-
- PREFACE ix.
-
- MELBOURNE AND HER CIVILIZATION 1
-
- THE POETRY OF ADAM LINDSAY GORDON 11
-
- THE SALVATION ARMY 27
-
- SYDNEY AND HER CIVILIZATION 50
-
- CULTURE 73
-
- “DAWNWARDS,” A DIALOGUE
-
- INTRODUCTION 90
-
- I. 97
-
- II. 105
-
- III. 114
-
- IV. 122
-
- V. 138
-
- VI. 146
-
-
-
-
-PREFACE.
-
-
-It would be absurd to suppose that it will not seem clear, to whatever
-readers this little book may find here, that one of the principal
-characters of the Dialogue is a man for whom we all, I think, feel more
-interest, admiration, and respect than any other among us. That this
-is so in reality, I must beg to deny, and I hope that, when I state
-that I neither have myself, nor know anyone who has, the honour of
-his acquaintance—nay, that I have never even _seen_ him—I hope that I
-shall stand acquitted of all charges of personality. As for the other
-characters, there will too, I daresay, be found people ready to declare
-who are the originals, and to explain everything which is inconsistent
-with their theory by ascribing it to designed mystification on the part
-of the Author. For this, it seems, is an occupation like another. The
-Author believes that so much of a man’s life as is public belongs to
-the public, and is at the fair use of the public’s literary analysts,
-_videlicet_ the critics, and that it is by no means an unfair use, to
-take such a life and freely present it in that individual form which
-it actually has to us in our moments of imagination and reflection. It
-seems, then, to him foolish, in considering, (to take it in the form of
-a well-known example), a book like D’Israeli’s “Lothair” or “Endymion,”
-to be trying to identify the characters with actual men. D’Israeli simply
-uses as much of actual men and actual events as he requires for his
-criticism of the time he is portraying, and is careless of the rest. I
-see here no attempt at mystification. I simply see an artist picking out
-the choicest materials he has to hand.
-
-As regards both the Dialogue and the Essays, I would like to point out
-that they are professedly didactic, and, as such, are of course cast
-into the form which I believe most calculated to achieve their object.
-I am sure that I have neither the intention nor the wish to impugn the
-competency of the australian Press to deal with things australian. I am
-myself a member, a very humble member of it, and am quite ready to do
-myself the sincere pleasure of praising it. At the same time I cannot
-blind myself to the fact that its criticism is not (let us say) ideal.
-The “business of criticism,” says the first of living critics, “is simply
-_to know the best that is known and thought in the world, and by in its
-turn making this known, to create a current of true and fresh ideas_.”
-Well now, I cannot, I say, look upon this australian Press, of which I
-am so humble a member, as the creator of such a current; and, (I will
-make a clean breast of it at once!), bright and charming as I have always
-found him in the “Echoes of the Week” and places of like resort, I have
-viewed the triumphal approach of Mr. Sala to us, and his even more
-triumphal progress among us, with (as someone will presently be saying
-of me)—“with a jaundiced eye.” And why? The truth, the real truth, is,
-(May I be forgiven for saying so?), that I do not believe that even Mr.
-Sala can help us australian pressmen, (since I dare to place myself in a
-company which includes such stupendous personages as “The Vagabond” and
-the Editor of the Melbourne _Herald_), to create that “current of true
-and fresh ideas” to which we have alluded. Truth, alas, is the private
-property of no man—not even of Mr. George Augustus Sala. And I confess
-to finding myself at the point of wishing that, even for mere variety’s
-sake, we should hear more than we do of the ideas of such personages as
-Goethe, Emerson, Renan, Arnold, and so on: writers, of course, familiar
-to us all, and whom I, at any rate, must still continue to consider
-as not wholly exhausted. They may not have the depth of thought, the
-accuracy of detail, the exquisite tact of expression which distinguish
-the genial _littérateur_, and make his work, as one of my fellow pressmen
-said the other day, “epoch-making,” but I really do still continue—I
-_must_ still continue—to think that, despite all these disadvantages,
-they are still capable of helping us a little to that critical haven
-where our souls would be—to the source of “a current of true and fresh
-ideas.”
-
- _September, 1885._
-
-
-
-
-AUSTRALIAN ESSAYS.
-
-
-
-
-MELBOURNE, AND HER CIVILIZATION, AS THEY STRIKE AN ENGLISHMAN.
-
-
-It is difficult to speak of Melbourne fitly. The judgment of neither
-native nor foreigner can escape the influence of the phenomenal aspect
-of the city. Not fifty years ago its first child, Batman’s, was born;
-not forty, it was a city; a little over thirty, it was the metropolis
-of a colony; and now (as the inscription on Batman’s grave tells us)
-“_Circumspice!_” To natives their Melbourne is, and is only, “the
-magnificent city, classed by Sir George Bowen as the ninth in the world,”
-“one of the wonders of the world.” They cannot criticise, they can only
-praise it. To a foreigner, however, who, with all respect and admiration
-for the excellencies of the Melbourne of to-day as compared with the
-Melbourne of half-a-century ago, has travelled and seen and read, and
-cares very little for glorifying the _amour-propre_ of this class or of
-that, and very much for really arriving at some more or less accurate
-idea of the significance of this city and its civilization; to such a
-man, I say, the native melodies in the style of “Rule Britannia” which he
-hears everywhere and at all times are distasteful. Nay, he may possibly
-have at last to guard himself against the opposite extreme, and hold off
-depreciation with the one hand as he does laudation with the other!
-
-The first thing, I think, that strikes a man who knows the three great
-modern cities of the world—London, Paris, New York—and is walking
-observingly about Melbourne is, that Melbourne is made up of curious
-elements. There is something of London in her, something of Paris,
-something of New York, and something of her own. Here is an attraction to
-start with. Melbourne has, what might be called, the _metropolitan tone_.
-The look on the faces of her inhabitants is the _metropolitan look_.
-These people live quickly: such as life presents itself to them, they
-know it: as far as they can see, they have no prejudices. “I was born in
-Melbourne,” said the wife of a small bootmaker to me once, “I was born in
-Melbourne, and I went to Tasmania for a bit, but I soon came back again.
-_I like to be in a place where they go ahead._” The wife of a small
-bootmaker, you see, has the _metropolitan tone_, the _metropolitan look_
-about her; she sees that there is a greater pleasure in life than sitting
-under your vine and your fig-tree; she likes to be in a place where they
-go ahead. And she is a type of her city. Melbourne likes to “go ahead.”
-Look at her public buildings, her New Law Courts not finished yet, her
-Town Hall, her Hospital, her Library, her Houses of Parliament, and
-above all her Banks! Nay, and she has become desirous of a fleet and has
-established a “Naval Torpedo Corps” with seven electricians. All this is
-well, very well. Melbourne, I say, lives quickly: such as life presents
-itself to her, she knows it: as far as she can see, she has no prejudices.
-
-_As far as she can see._—The limitation is important. The real question
-is, _how_ far can she see? how far does her civilization answer the
-requirements of a really fine civilization? what scope in it is there (as
-Mr. Arnold would say) for the satisfaction of the claims of conduct, of
-intellect and knowledge, of beauty and manners? Now in order the better
-to answer this question, let us think for a moment what are the chief
-elements that have operated and are still operating in this Melbourne and
-her civilization.
-
-This is an English colony: it springs, as its poet Gordon (of whom there
-will presently be something to be remarked) says, in large capitals, it
-springs from “_the Anglo-Saxon race ... the Norman blood_.” Well, if
-there is one quality which distinguishes this race, this blood, it is
-its determined strength. Wherever we have gone, whatever we have done,
-we have gone and we have done with all our heart and soul. We have made
-small, if any, attempt to conciliate others. Either they have had to
-give way before, or adapt themselves to us. India, America, Australia,
-they all bear witness to our determined, our pitiless strength. What
-is the state of the weaker nations that opposed us there? In America
-and Australia they are perishing off the face of the earth; even in New
-Zealand, where the aborigines are a really fine and noble race, we are,
-it seems, swiftly destroying them. In India, whose climate is too extreme
-for us ever to make it a colony in the sense that America and Australia
-are colonies; in India, since we could neither make the aborigines give
-way, nor make them adapt themselves to us, we have simply let them alone.
-They do not understand us, nor we them. Of late, it is true, an interest
-in them, in their religion and literature, has been springing up, but
-what a strange aspect do we, the lords of India for some hundred and
-thirty years, present! “In my own experience among Englishmen,” says an
-Indian scholar writing to the _Times_ in 1874, “I have found no general
-indifference to India, but I have found a Cimmerian darkness about the
-manners and habits of my countrymen, an almost poetical description
-of our customs, and a conception no less wild and startling than the
-vagaries of Mandeville and Marco Polo concerning our religion.” Do we
-want any further testimony than this to the determined, the pitiless
-strength of “the Anglo-Saxon race ... the Norman blood?”
-
-Well, and how does all this concern Australia in general and Melbourne
-in particular? It concerns them in this way, that the civilization of
-Australia, of Melbourne, is an Anglo-Saxon civilization, a civilization
-of the Norman blood, and that, with all the good attendant on such a
-civilization, there is also all the evil. All? Well, I will not say all,
-for that would be to contradict one of the first and chief statements
-I made about her, namely that “as far as she can see Melbourne has no
-prejudices,” a statement which I could not make of England. “_This our
-native or adopted land_,” says an intelligent Australian critic, the
-late Mr. Marcus Clarke, “_has no past, no story. No poet speaks to us._”
-“_No_,” we might add, “_and (thus far happily for you) neither, as far
-as you can see, does any direct preacher of prejudice_.” And here, as I
-take it, we have put our finger upon what is at once the strength and the
-weakness of this civilization.
-
-Let us consider it for a moment. The Australians have no prejudice about
-an endowed Church, as we English have, and hence they have, what we have
-not, religious liberty. As far as I can make out, there is no reason why
-the wife of a clergyman of the Church of England should in this colony
-look down upon the wife of a dissenting minister as her social inferior,
-and this is, on the whole, I think, well, for it tends to break up the
-notion of caste that exists between the two sects; it tends, I mean, to
-their mutual benefit, to the interchange of the church’s sense of “the
-beauty of holiness” with the chapel’s sense of the passion of holiness.
-Here, then, you are better off than we. On the other hand, you have no
-prejudice, as we at last have, against Protection, and consequently you
-go on benefiting a class at the expense of the community in a manner that
-can only, I think, be defined as short-sighted and foolish. Here we are
-better off than you. Again, however, you have not the prejudice that we
-have against the intervention of the State. You have nationalized your
-railways, and are attempting, as much as possible, to nationalize your
-land.[1] You are beginning to see that a land tax, at any given rate of
-annual value, would be (as Mr. Fawcett puts it) “a valuable national
-resource, which might be utilized in rendering unnecessary the imposition
-of many taxes which will otherwise have to be imposed.” Here you are
-better off than we, better off both in fortune and general speculation.
-Again, you have not yet arrived at Federalism, and what a waste of time
-and all time’s products is implied in the want of central unity! Now the
-first and third of these instances show the strength that is in this
-civilization, and the second shows a portion of the weakness, at present
-only a small portion, but, unless vigorous measures are resorted to and
-soon, this Protection will become the great evil that it is in America.
-There is just the same cry there as here: “Protect the native industries
-until they are strong enough to stand alone”—as if an industry that has
-once been protected will ever care to stand alone again until it is
-compelled to! as if a class benefited at the expense of the community
-will ever give up its benefit until the community takes it away again!
-
-On one of the first afternoons I spent in Melbourne, I remember strolling
-into a well-known book-mart, the book-mart “at the sign of the rainbow.”
-I was interested both in the books and the people who were looking at
-or buying them. Here I found, almost at the London prices (for we get
-our twopence or threepence in the shilling on books now in London),
-all, or almost all, of the average London books of the day. The popular
-scientific, theological, and even literary books were to hand, somewhat
-cast into the shade, it is true, by a profusion of cheap English novels
-and journals, but still they were to hand. And who were the people that
-were buying them? The people of the dominant class, the middle-class. I
-began to enquire at what rate the popular, scientific, and even literary
-books were selling. Fairly, was the answer. “And how do Gordon’s poems
-sell?” “_Oh they sell well_,” was the answer, “_he’s the only poet we’ve
-turned out_.”
-
-This pleased me, it made me think that the “go-ahead” element in
-Victorian and Melbourne life had gone ahead in this direction also. If,
-in a similar book-mart in Falmouth (say), I had asked how the poems of
-Charles Kingsley were selling, it is a question whether much more than
-the name would have been recognized. And yet the middle-class here is as,
-and perhaps more, badly—more appallingly badly—off for a higher education
-than the English provincial middle class is. Whence comes it, then, that
-a poet like Gordon with the cheer and charge of our chivalry in him, with
-his sad “trust and only trust,” and his
-
- “weary longings and yearnings
- for the mystical better things:”
-
-Whence comes it that he is a popular poet here? Let him answer us English
-for himself and Melbourne:
-
- “You are slow, very slow, in discerning
- that book-lore and wisdom are twain:”
-
-Yes, indeed, to Melbourne, such as life presents itself to her, she
-knows it, and, what is more, she knows that she knows it, and her
-self-knowledge gives her a contempt for the pedantry of the old world.
-Walk about in her streets, look at her private buildings, these banks
-of hers, for instance, and you will see this. They _mean_ something,
-they _express_ something: they do not (as Mr. Arnold said of our British
-Belgravian architecture) “only express the impotence of the artist to
-express anything.” They express a certain sense of movement, of progress,
-of conscious power. They say: “Some thirty years ago the first gold
-nuggets made their entry into William Street. Well, many more nuggets
-have followed, and wealth of other sorts has followed the nuggets, and we
-express that wealth—we express movement, progress, conscious power.—_Is
-that, now, what your English banks express?_” And we can only say that
-it is not, that our English banks express something quite different;
-something, if deeper, slower; if stronger, more clumsy.
-
-But the matter does not end here. When we took the instance of the books
-and the people “at the sign of the rainbow,” we took also the abode
-itself of the rainbow; when we took the best of the private buildings, we
-took also the others. Many of them are hideous enough, we know; this is
-what Americans, English, and Australians have in common, this inevitable
-brand of their civilization, of their determined, their pitiless
-strength. The same horrible “pot hat,” “frock coat,” and the rest, are to
-be found in London, in Calcutta, in New York, in Melbourne.
-
-Let us sum up. “The Anglo-Saxon race, the Norman blood:” a colony made
-of this: a city into whose hands wealth and its power is suddenly
-phenomenally cast: a general sense of movement, of progress, of conscious
-power. This, I say, is Melbourne—Melbourne with its fine public buildings
-and tendency towards banality, with its hideous houses and tendency
-towards anarchy. And Melbourne is, after all, the Melbournians. Alas,
-then, how will this city and its civilization stand the test of a
-really fine city and fine civilization? how far will they answer the
-requirements of such a civilization? what scope is there in them for the
-satisfaction of the claims of conduct, of intellect and knowledge, of
-beauty, and manners?
-
-Of the first I have only to say that, so far as I can see, its claims
-are satisfied, satisfied as well as in a large city, and in a city of
-the above-mentioned composition, they can be. But of the second, of the
-claims of intellect and knowledge, what enormous room for improvement
-there is! What a splendid field for culture lies in this middle-class
-that makes a popular poet of Adam Lindsay Gordon! It tempts one to
-prophesy that, given a higher education for this middle-class, and
-fifty—forty—thirty years to work it through a generation, and it will
-leave the English middle-class as far behind in intellect and knowledge
-as, at the present moment, it is left behind by the middle-class, or
-rather the one great educated upper-class, of France.
-
-There is still the other claim, that of beauty and manners. And it is
-here that your Australian, your Melbourne civilization is, I think,
-most wanting, is most weak; it is here that one feels the terrible need
-of “a past, a story, a poet to speak to you.” With the Library are a
-sculpture gallery and a picture gallery. What an arrangement in them
-both! In the sculpture gallery “are to be seen,” we are told, “admirably
-executed casts of ancient and modern sculpture, from the best European
-sources, copies of the Elgin marbles from the British Museum, and other
-productions from the European Continent.” Yes, and Summers stands side by
-side with Michaelangelo! And poor busts of Moore and Goethe come between
-Antinous and the Louvre Apollo the Lizard slayer! But this, it may be
-said, is after all only an affair of an individual, the arranger. Not
-altogether so. If an audience thinks that a thing is done badly, they
-express their opinion, and the failure has to vanish. And how large a
-portion of the audience of Melbourne city, pray, is of opinion that quite
-half of its architecture is a failure, is hideous, is worthy only, as
-architecture, of abhorrence? how many are shocked by the atrocity of the
-Medical College building at the University? how many feel that Bourke
-Street, taken as a whole, is simply an insult to good taste?
-
-“Yes, all this,” it is said, “may be true, as abstract theory, but it is
-at present quite out of the sphere of practical application. You would
-talk of Federalism, and here is our good ex-Premier of New South Wales,
-Sir Henry Parkes, making it the subject of a farewell denunciation. ‘I
-venture to say now,’ says Sir Henry Parkes, ‘here amongst you what I
-said when I had an opportunity in London, what I ventured to say to Lord
-Derby himself, that this federation scheme must prove a failure.’ You
-talk of Free-trade and here is what an intelligent writer in the _Argus_
-says _apropos_ of ‘the promised tariff negotiations with Tasmania.’ ‘In
-America,’ he says, ‘there is no difficulty in inducing the States to see
-that, whatever may be their policy as regards the outside world, they
-should interchange as between each other in order that they may stand on
-as broad a base as possible, but we can only speculate on the existence
-of such a national spirit here.’—These facts, my good sir,” it is said,
-“as indicative of the amount of opposition that the nation feels to the
-ideas of Free-trade and Federalism, are not encouraging.”—They are not,
-let us admit it at once, but there are others which are; others, some
-of which we have been considering, and, above and beyond everything,
-there is one invaluable and in the end irresistible ally of these
-ideas: there is _the Tendency of the Age_—_the Time-Spirit_, as Goethe
-calls it. Things move more quickly now than they used to do: ideas,
-the modern ideas, are permeating the masses swiftly and thoroughly and
-universally. We cannot tell, we can only speculate as to what another
-fifty—forty—thirty years will actually bring forth.
-
-Free-trade—Federalism—Higher Education, they all go together. The
-necessities of life are cheap here, wonderfully cheap; a man can get a
-dinner here for sixpence that he could not get in England for twice or
-thrice the amount. “There are not,” says the _Australasian Schoolmaster_,
-the organ of the State Schools, “there are not many under-fed children in
-the Australian [as there are in the English] schools.” But the luxuries
-of life (and let us remember that what we call the luxuries of life
-are, after all, necessities; they are the things which go to make up
-our civilization, the things which make us feel that there is a greater
-pleasure in life than sitting under your vine and your fig-tree, whatever
-Mr. George may have to say to the contrary)—the luxuries of life, I say,
-are dear here, very dear, owing to, what I must be permitted to call, an
-exorbitant tariff, and, consequently, the money that would be spent in
-fostering a higher ideal of life, in preparing the way for a national
-higher education, is spent on these luxuries, and the claims of intellect
-and knowledge, and of beauty and manners, have to suffer for it. Here
-is your Mr. Marcus Clarke, for instance, talking grimly, not to say
-bitterly, of “the capacity of this city to foster poetic instinct,” of
-his “astonishment that such work” as Gordon’s “was ever produced here.”
-He is astonished, you see, that the claims of intellect and knowledge,
-and of beauty and manners are enough satisfied in this city to produce a
-talent of this sort; he is astonished, because he does not see that there
-is an element in this city which, in its way, is making for at any rate
-the intellect and knowledge—an element which is a product, not of England
-but of Australia; a general sense of movement, of progress, of conscious
-power.
-
-Free-trade—Federalism—Higher Education, they all, I say, go together;
-but if one is more important than the other, then it is the last.
-Improvement, real improvement, must always be from within outwards,
-not from without inwards. All abiding good comes, as it has been well
-said, by evolution not by revolution. “Our chief, our gravest want in
-this country at present,” says Arnold, “our _unum necessarium_, is a
-middle-class, homogeneous, intelligent, civilized, brought up in good
-public schools, and on the first plane.” How true is this of Australia
-too, of Melbourne! There are State schools for the lower-class, but what
-is there for the great upper educated class of the nation? The voluntary
-schools, the “private adventure schools.” And what sort of education do
-_they_ supply either in England or here? “The voluntary schools,” says
-a happy shallow man in some Publishers’ circular I lit on the other
-day, “the voluntary schools of the country” [of England] “have reached
-the highest degree of efficiency.” This, to those who have taken the
-trouble to study the question, not to say to have considerable absolute
-experience in the English voluntary schools—this is intelligence as
-surprising as it ought to be gratifying. To such men, the idea they had
-arrived at of the English voluntary schools was somewhat different; their
-idea being that these schools were, both socially and intellectually,
-the most inadequate that fall to the lot of any middle class among the
-civilized nations of Europe. “Comprehend,” says Arnold to us Englishmen,
-and he might as well be saying it to you Australians, “comprehend that
-middle-class education—the higher education, as we have put it, of the
-great upper educated class—is a great democratic reform, of the truest,
-surest, safest description.”
-
-“But there are many difficulties to be overcome—so many, that we
-doubt these abstract theories to be at present within the sphere of
-practical application. There is such a mass of opposition to the idea of
-Federalism. And, as for the idea of Free-trade, we can only speculate on
-the existence of a national spirit here. The thinking public is quite
-content with its State schools for the lower class, and cares little or
-nothing about State schools and a higher education for the upper class.
-They are much more interested in the religious questions of the day—the
-Catholic attitude, the conflict between Mr. Strong and his Presbytery
-on the subject of Religious Liberalism or Latitudinarianism, as you may
-please to call it, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”—All this is so, let
-us admit it at once, but it does not discourage us. We know, or think
-we know (which is, after all, almost the same thing), that these three
-questions—Free-trade, Federalism, Higher Education—are the three great,
-the three vital questions for Australia, for Melbourne. We know that,
-sooner or later, they will have to be properly considered and decided
-upon, and that, if Melbourne is to keep the place which she now holds
-as the leading city, intellectually and commercially, of Australia,
-they will have to be decided upon in that way which conforms with “the
-intelligible law of things,” with the _Tendency of the Age_, with
-the _Time-Spirit_. For this is the one invaluable and, in the end,
-irresistible ally of Progress—of Progress onward and upward.
-
- _December, 1884._
-
-NOTE.—No one, speaking of Free-trade and Federalism in Australia, can
-omit a tribute of thanks to the _Argus_ and the _Federal Australian_ for
-what they have respectively done for the two causes. The cause of Higher
-Education, however, still waits for a champion in the Press.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-THE POETRY OF ADAM LINDSAY GORDON.
-
-
-“In the whole range of English literature,” says an Australian critic
-reviewing the complete edition of Gordon’s poems, “in the whole range
-of English literature there have been few poets possessed of a finer
-lyrical faculty than Adam Lindsay Gordon.... ‘Ashtaroth,’” continues our
-critic now warm at his work, “‘Ashtaroth’ is worthy to rank with any of
-Tennyson’s songs, and is far more musical than the best of Browning’s.”
-Then there is “the beauty of his ballad poetry, such as ‘Fauconshawe’ and
-‘Rippling Water,’ which are perfect of their style;” and so on in the
-same strain, more or less, until the reader is surprised that our critic
-ends up with no further claim for his poet than that he “deserves to be
-ranked with the genuine poets of his generation.” One does not propose
-to criticise, verbally, criticism of this sort: it would be unkind to do
-so, and, above all, it would be useless. This is a native melody in the
-style of “Rule Britannia:” “Australia, and especially Victoria, is great
-and therefore her poet must be great also. Let us say that Melbourne is
-the equal of any English city save London, and Gordon the equal of any
-English poet save Shakspere and Milton!”
-
-Now let us hear what another Australian critic, one who cares more about
-finding out the real deep true significance of Gordon and his poetry
-than of glorifying the _amour-propre_ of this class or of that: let
-us hear what Mr. Marcus Clarke has to say. “Written as they were” (as
-Gordon’s poems were) “at odd times in leisure moments of a stirring
-and adventurous life, it is not to be wondered at if they are unequal
-and unfinished. The astonishment of those who knew the man, and can
-gauge the capacity of this city to foster poetic instinct, is, that
-such work was ever produced here at all.”—What a different tone is
-this from that of our first and enthusiastic critic! “_Unequal and
-unfinished_”—“_astonishment that such work was ever produced here at
-all!_” But this is not all that Mr. Clarke has to say about Gordon’s
-poetry: he has also to notice what influence was at work in it, and
-(most important of all!) what is its real deep true significance. He
-talks of Gordon “owning nothing but a love for horsemanship and a head
-full of Browning and Shelley,” and follows this up by saying that
-“the influence of Browning and of Swinburne” (who, as we all know,
-has been, creatively and demonstratively, the chief prophet in his
-generation of the poet who, he likes to think, is ‘beloved above all
-other poets, being beyond all other poets—in one word, and the only
-proper word,—divine’)—“the influence of Browning and of Swinburne upon
-the writer’s taste is plain. There is plainly visible also, however, a
-keen sense of natural beauty and a manly admiration for healthy living.”
-Well, and the conclusion of the whole matter? “The student of these
-unpretending volumes will be repaid for his labour. _He will find in them
-something very like the beginnings of a national school of Australian
-poetry._”
-
-Let us hasten to offer up our small tribute of praise and thanks to Mr.
-Clarke for his critical sagacity here, and let us venture to hope that
-the “Poems of Adam Lindsay Gordon” may go down to posterity accompanied
-always by this small “Preface” of Mr. Clarke, who both “knew the man” and
-was yet the first to appreciate this aspect of his work.
-
-What, however, Mr. Clarke has to say about the facts of Gordon’s life
-is, at best, inaccurate. It is Mr. Sutherland to whom our gratitude is
-due here, gratitude for having discovered for us all the details of the
-poet’s life which it is necessary for us to know.[2]
-
-What, then, remains for any other critic to do? There remains to him,
-as it seems to me, the task of doing what Mr. Clarke tells us he did
-not propose to do, “of criticising these volumes,” and also of trying,
-as befits one who comes later, and to whom, therefore, the events of
-the past have fallen into that symmetry and proper proportion that the
-events of the present can scarcely ever fall into: of trying, I say, to
-bring out more clearly (one aspect of which he has done little more than
-indicate), the real, deep, true significance of the poet’s work; in a
-word, of trying to understand, instead of being “astonished” at it.
-
-The first thing to notice about Gordon’s poetry is, that it is almost
-all in regular and rymed rhythms. There is not a line of blank verse in
-it. Now, a “fine faculty” for regular and rymed rhythms is by no means
-a synonym for a “fine lyrical faculty.” Shelley, our greatest master
-in poetry of pure melody, has a “fine faculty” for regular and rymed
-rhythms, but has also a fine faculty for irregular rhythms: lines in
-which the regular rhythm is broken, in order that a more subtle melody
-may be expressed, are frequent in him. In Mr. Swinburne such lines are
-rare—he has a fine faculty for regular and rymed rhythms, but his faculty
-for irregular rhythms is (let us say) less fine. Gordon, who is the
-disciple of this first side of Mr. Swinburne’s technical talent, who, in
-his turn, is a disciple of the first side of Shelley’s—Gordon, I say, is
-in this respect to Mr. Swinburne what Mr. Swinburne is to Shelley.
-
-Mr. Hammersley, one of the few survivors of that peculiar phase of
-colonial and Victorian feeling which produced the poetry of Gordon, and
-who “may say he knew him intimately” —tells us[3] how he “was often
-amused to hear him quote from the poets, and his recitations used to make
-me laugh outright. One day I said, ‘Hang it, Gordon, you can write good
-poetry, but you can’t read.’” What was the matter with his “reading,”
-then? He used to “read” in “a sing-song fashion.” Mr. Woods, too, tells
-us[4] that “Gordon had an odd way of reciting poetry, and his delivery
-was monotonous; but,” he adds, “his way of emphasising the beautiful
-portions of what he recited was charming from its earnestness.” Gordon’s
-criticism on his own verses was: “They don’t _ring_ so badly after all,
-old fellow, do they?” He had no faculty for irregular rhythms. He cannot,
-then, be said to possess a “fine lyrical faculty;” he possessed a fine
-faculty for regular and rymed rhythms. (As for his rymes, as rymes, they
-are as a rule excellent, although there is often too little of the “poet
-or prophet,” as he says, in them, and too much of the “jingler of rymes,”
-the dealer in “verse-jingle chimes.”) Since, however, this faculty of
-his is a fine faculty, it must not be described as (in the usual and
-bad sense of the word) imitative. There are, I think, passages in him
-that Byron might have written (“To my Sister”), that Lord Tennyson might
-have written (“The Road to Avernus,” scene x.), that Mr. Swinburne might
-have written (“A Dedication”), and the latter are frequent. In no other
-poets, save Wordsworth and the earlier works of Mr. Arnold, do I find
-precisely this same sort of (shall I say) parallelism of feeling and
-expression on certain subjects that I do in Mr. Swinburne and Gordon. But
-it is, I think, very open to question whether Gordon would have grown,
-as Mr. Arnold has, into a purely distinctive style of his own. Gordon
-is terribly lacking in variety: to live with a close study of him for
-several days is one of the most trying of critical tasks. “My rymes,” he
-asks—
-
- “My rymes, are they stale? If my metre
- is varied, one chime rings through all;
- one chime—though I sing more or sing less,
- I have but one string to my lute.”
-
-I doubt, I say, whether under any circumstances Gordon would have
-produced, as Mr. Hammersley thought, “poems worthy to be ranked with some
-of the masterpieces of the English language.” He had not patience enough,
-he had not clear-sightedness enough! “A more dare-devil rider,” says Mr.
-Hammersley, “never crossed a horse.... As a steeplechase rider he was, of
-course, in the very first rank, and his name is indelibly associated with
-many of the most famous chases run in Victoria, although in my opinion,
-and I think in that of many good judges too, he was deficient in what
-is termed ‘good hands,’ and when it came to a finish was far behind a
-Mount or a Watson.” (And, considering his shortsightedness, which Mr.
-Woods designates as “painful,” this is not to be wondered at). It is the
-same with his poetry. All in his poetry that is good has been done at
-a rush; the rest is inferior, poor, and sometimes quite worthless. He
-has little, if any, sense of real artistic workmanship either in whole
-or in parts: “he is deficient in what is termed ‘good hands.’” Take,
-for instance, his dramatic lyric, “Ashtaroth.” It is worth reading.
-There are two beautiful songs in it, “On the Current,” and “Oh! days
-and years departed.” There are a few fine passages, a few fine dramatic
-touches, in it, and one splendid outburst of Orion’s (“I hate thee not,
-thy grievous plight”), but the poem, taken as a whole is, I say, worth
-reading. Many of the speeches are weak, and some are not poetry at all,
-but rymed prose, and bad at that. A sustained effort, such as a piece
-like this requires, was impossible to him. I say nothing of the ludicrous
-attempt at an adaptation of Faust, Mephistopheles and Margarete, which
-is the basis of the poem: I merely remark that, judged by its own poor
-standard of judgment, it is quite a failure. Perhaps some day we shall
-have a selection from the poet’s work, from which what is worthless will
-be eliminated, in order that all our attention may be fixed on what is
-good, and perhaps the selector will have the courage to dismiss all this
-poem, save some dozen or so of extracts, into the gulf of oblivion or
-an appendix. Encumbered as Gordon at present is with such an amount of
-worthless work, there is a danger that much of what is good may perish
-also.
-
-All his poetry that is good, I say, has been done at a rush. The dramatic
-touches in it are as frequent as they are fine. Take, for instance, this
-from the “Rhyme of Joyous Guard.”—Lancelot, old, worn-out, feeling that
-“there is nothing good for him under the sun but to perish as” (his
-bright past) “has perished,” is thinking of the close of his career
-and Arthur’s: of the discovery of his amour with Guinevere, his siege
-in Joyous Guard, his encounters with “brave Gawain,” whom he virtually
-slew, and then “the crime of Modred,” and “the king by the knave’s hand
-stricken”—
-
- “And the once-loved knight, was he there to save
- that knightly king who that knighthood gave?
- _Ah, Christ! will he greet me as knight or knave_
- _in the day when the dust shall quicken?_”
-
-This is splendid! And, as I have said, it by no means stands alone. As
-a set-off against this excellence of his, is the defect of prolixity.
-Byron had it, but Byron was an unsurpassed improviser, not an artist.
-Like, too, his technical master of the “Poems and Ballads” when he gets
-hold of a regular or rymed rhythm that pleases him, Gordon will go on
-making it “ring,” listening as the “verse-jingle chimes,” till we are all
-quite weary of it. He is regardless of what Goethe calls “the æsthetic
-whole.” Indeed, it may justly be said that few, very few, of his poems
-are “æsthetic wholes” at all, but only passages.
-
-So much, then, for the outward form of his poetry. We have now to
-consider what is the significance to us of his life and work, of his
-personality, and of his “criticism of life.”
-
-In the first place, let us begin by stating that Gordon _has_ a
-personality. Mr. Hammersley tells us how “at times Gordon was the
-strangest, most weird, mysterious man I ever saw, and I could not help
-feeling almost afraid of him, and yet there was a fascination about him
-that made me like to see him.” There was the fascination of his converse.
-“He was one of the few men I have known in the colonies,” asseverates
-Mr. Hammersley, “that never made me tire of listening to him.” And there
-was the fascination of his individuality: “His wild haunting eye,” “a
-look something like what is termed the evil eye.” (This reminds one
-of what Mr. Clarke has to say about “the dominant note of Australian
-scenery: Weird Melancholy.”) Mr. Woods’ whole article bears witness
-to this personal fascination of Gordon’s. Well, it is the same in his
-poetry: I mean, that it is the same as Mr. Hammersley _means_. There is
-attraction in Gordon. We want to go to see anything that he has had to do
-with. We seek out his grave and brood over it.[5] He is the Australian
-fellow to Baudelaire and James Thomson, the last martyrs, let us hope,
-to our terrible period of transition from the Old World into the New,
-from Mediævalism into Modernity. There is attraction in Gordon. We should
-like to have seen and known the original of Laurence Raby, of Maurice,
-of the man of the “Sea-spray and Smoke-Drift,” and “Bush Ballads and
-Galloping Rhymes.” He is an individuality, and a modern and a colonial
-individuality. He looks at life as it is, not as it is represented.
-
- “In thy grandeur, oh sea! we acknowledge,
- in thy fairness, oh earth! we confess,
- hidden truths that are taught in no college,
- hidden songs that no parchment express.”
-
-And, as for the pedants of the Old World, why! (as we know)
-
- “They are slow, very slow, in discerning
- that book-lore and wisdom are twain.”
-
-Here, then, is the first charm in Gordon, and his work; they are
-modern, they represent the main-current of the age, not some side-water
-or back-water, that are perhaps nice enough in their way, but
-still—side-waters or back-waters, and _only_ side-waters or back-waters.
-
-Gordon and his work are modern, but not wholly modern; he belongs, as I
-have said, to a period of transition. Like Mary Magdalene, he feels that
-“they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him.”
-He has lost the Old, and he has not won the New Faith. He is a poet of
-the twilight and the dawn. “On this earth so rough,” he says,
-
- “on this earth so rough, we know quite enough,
- _and, I sometimes fancy, a little too much_,”
-
-and so, we have to suffer! Burns, Byron, Leopardi, Heine, Musset,
-Baudelaire, Clough, Thomson—greater and lesser, this is true of them all!
-Their early life is embittered by it, their later life made desperate.
-“Years back,” says Gordon,
-
- “Years back I believed a little,
- and as I believed I spoke.”
-
-Years back he could utter prayer, years back when he was a child. He
-cannot utter it now: “For prayer must die since hope is dead.” _Now_ he
-can only wonder
-
- “Is there nothing real but confusion?
- is nothing certain but death?
- is nothing fair, save illusion?
- is nothing good that has breath?...”
-
-“I can hardly vouch,” he says, again,
-
- “I can hardly vouch
- for the truth of what little I see....
- On earth there’s little worth a sigh,
- and nothing worth a tear.”
-
-But ah,
-
- “the restless throbbings and burnings
- that hope unsatisfied brings,
- the weary longings and yearnings
- for the mystical better things....
- There are others toiling and straining
- ’neath burdens graver than mine—
- They are weary, yet uncomplaining—
- I know it, yet I repine.
- I know it, how time will ravage,
- how time will level, and yet
- I long with a longing savage,
- I regret with a fierce regret....”
-
-We are sorely tired, “we, with our bodies thus weakly, with hearts hard
-and dangerous.”
-
- “We have suffered and striven
- till we have grown reckless of pain,
- though feeble of heart, and of brain.”
-
-Who has expressed the malady of our time better? “Our burdens are heavy,
-our natures weak,” he says again. We cannot escape from them:
-
- “Round about one fiery centre
- wayward thoughts like moths revolve;”
-
-We cannot write a description of a horse-race without letting them come
-in, without calling our description by a name expressive of them—“_Ex
-fumo dare lucem:_”
-
- “_Till the good is brought forth from evil,_
- _as day is brought forth from night._—
- Vain dreams! for our fathers cherished
- high hopes in the days that were;
- and these men wondered and perished,
- nor better than these we fare;
- And our due at least is their due,
- they fought against odds and fell;
- “_En avant les enfants perdus!_”
- We fight against odds as well.”
-
-_Enfant perdu_: so the dying Heine calls himself. _Enfants perdus_, that
-is what they were! The storms of our terrible period of transition raged
-about them: “they could not wait their passing,” as Arnold says—
-
- “they could not wait their passing, they are dead.”
-
-“I am slow,” says Gordon,
-
- “I am slow in learning, and swift in
- forgetting, and I have grown
- so weary with long sand-sifting!
- T’wards the mist, where the breakers moan
- the rudderless bark is drifting,
- through the shoals of the quick-sands shifting—
- In the end shall the night-rack lifting,
- discover the shores unknown?”
-
-The idea of killing himself seems to have been with him from almost the
-first. It was not “bitter” to him: “man in his blindness” taught so; but,
-to him that
-
- “mystic hour
- when the wings of the shadowy angel lower,”
-
-was not without its charm. “When I first heard the sad news,” Mr.
-Hammersley tells us, “I was not the least surprised. I really expected
-that what did happen would happen.” We all know Gordon’s poem, “De Te.”
-The last two verses of it are the best criticism that we have to offer
-“of him,” “found dead in the heather, near his home, with a bullet from
-his own rifle in his brain:”
-
- “No man may shirk the allotted work,
- the deed to do, the death to die;
- at least I think so—neither Turk,
- nor Jew, nor infidel am I—
- And yet I wonder when I try
- to solve one question, may or must,
- and shall I solve it by-and-bye,
- beyond the dark, beneath the dust?
- _I trust so, and I only trust._
-
- “Aye what they will, such trifles kill.
- Comrade, for one good deed of yours,
- your history shall not help to fill
- the mouths of many brainless boors.
- It may be death absolves or cures
- the sin of life. ’Twere hazardous
- to assert so. If the sin endures,
- say only, ‘_God, who has judged him thus,_
- _be merciful to him, and us:_’”
-
-And his work, his “criticism of life?” Is there nothing in it but
-this “_trust and only trust_?” There is more, much more! “There is
-plainly visible,” says Mr. Clarke, “a keen sense of natural beauty,
-and a manly admiration for healthy living ... a very clear perception
-of the loveliness of duty and of labour.” Let us see if this, too, is
-so, or if any qualification of this remark is needed; and, if so, what
-qualification.
-
-Gordon’s life and work were a failure. He himself would, I am sure, have
-been the first to admit it and have assigned the cause, and rightly, to
-bad luck in general and certain failings in himself in particular. Is it
-not bad luck to be born into an age that makes of its poets its martyrs?
-Gordon struggled and schemed. He was a livery-stable keeper, a landowner,
-a member of assembly, a keeper of racehorses, and a failure in all.
-It was only as jockey and stockrider that he was a success—that is to
-say, an object of admiration to others and of happiness to himself. “He
-sometimes,” says Mr. Woods, “compared the lot of a bushman with that of
-other states of mankind, saying that it was in many ways preferable to
-any one,” and for himself he was right. Let us not lament his failure in
-what he was not meant to be a success. Gordon, happy in life and love,
-might well have become at best a _dilettante_, at worst a materialized
-blockhead, he has so little patience, so little clear-sightedness!
-Perhaps it is, after all, better as it is. The axe cuts down the sandal
-tree, and the tree sheds forth its perfume.
-
- “Our sweetest songs are those which tell of saddest thought.”
-
-We love a poet more for what he has suffered than what he has done, and
-yet ultimately, if we will only see it, what he suffers and what he does
-are the same. As boys we love our Byron and our Shelley; as men our
-Goethe and our Shakspere. Gordon, I say, as poet and failure is better
-than prose-man and success. But see now what he has to say about this
-life in which he failed so.
-
-Firstly, there is all the doubt and bewilderment of a period of
-transition:
-
- “We are children lost in the wood.”
-
-“Lord,” prays this woman that loves Laurence Raby,
-
- “Lord, lead us out of this tangled wild,
- where the wise and the prudent have been beguiled,
- and only the babes have stood.”
-
-Meantime,
-
- “Onward! onward! still we wander,
- nearer draws the goal;
- Half the riddle’s read, we ponder
- vainly on the whole....
- Onward! onward! toiling ever,
- weary steps and slow;
- doubting oft, despairing never,
- to the goal we go!”
-
-To what goal? Well,
-
- “The chances are I go where most men go.”
-
-Let us leave the rest with God—God whose “dealings with us” are
-unfathomable, God who is “fathomless.” Thus he achieves his resignation.
-But he never blinds himself to things; he never answers “the painful
-riddle of the earth” by “stopping up his mouth with a clod” (as Heine
-says). This world is a
-
- “world of rapine and wrong,
- where the weak and the timid seem lawful prey
- for the resolute and the strong.”
-
-Sometimes there rises in him the
-
- “wail of discordant sadness for the wrongs he never can right,”
-
-for the brothers, and ah for the sisters, he cannot help. But sometimes,
-also, he bursts forth into “a song of gladness, a pæan of joyous might.”
-Both are in him: the wail for the lost Lord and the thanksgiving to God
-for his “GLORIOUS OXYGEN.” (The capitals are his own.) With the first, we
-have done: let us look at the second and see what he has to show us of
-living and loving, of action and women, and then see what he has to show
-us of life as a whole, “the conclusion of the whole matter.”
-
-I have said elsewhere that there is in Gordon the cheer and charge of our
-chivalry. There is. He was well worthy of a place in the charge of our
-cavalry at Waterloo, or Balaclava. There is in him that “magnificence”
-which now, alas, as the Frenchman truly said, “is not war.” These men
-“glory in daring that dies or prevails.” And when, as at Balaclava, they
-die, their poet exclaims (in capitals)—
-
- “not in vain,
- as a type of our chivalry!”
-
-What exclamations of rapture such a sight draws from him!
-
- “Oh! the moments of yonder maddening ride,
- long years of life outvie!...
- God send me an ending as fair as his,
- who died in his stirrups there!...”
-
-Here is a race:—
-
- “They came with the rush of the southern surf,
- on the bar of the storm-girt bay;
- and like muffled drums on the sounding turf
- their hoof-strokes echo away.”
-
-I know no poetry that describes the rush of horsemen quite as Gordon
-does. Take this description of the Balaclava charge from his “Lay of the
-Last Charger.”
-
- “Now we were close to them, every horse striding
- madly;—St. Luce pass’t with never a groan;—
- Sadly my master look’d round—he was riding—
- on the boy’s right, with a line of his own.
-
- “Thrusting his hand in his breast or breast-pocket,
- while from his wrist the sword swung by a chain,
- swiftly he drew out some trinket or locket,
- kiss’t it (I think) and replaced it again.
-
- “Burst, while his fingers reclined on the haft,
- jarring concussion and earth-shaking din,
- Horse counter’d horse, and I reel’d, _but he laugh’t,_
- _down went his man, cloven clean to the chin_!”
-
-Lord Tennyson has watched his charge through Mr. Russell’s field-glass,
-and we follow his view of it, but Gordon has ridden it and takes us with
-him. Old and miserable, the friend of the man who had ridden this “Last
-Charger,” offers up the same prayer as the man who had “visioned it in
-the smoke:”
-
- “Would to God I had died with your master, old man,”
-
-for—
-
- “he was never more happy in life than in death.”
-
-What I find so admirable in Gordon, and in almost all his characters is,
-that they are _men_, I mean _men_ as opposed to dreamers or students.
-His Lancelot _is_ Lancelot, the knight who has lived and loved largely.
-Tennyson’s is not. I must confess that I really think that “The Rhyme
-of Joyous Guard” is worth all the other “Idylls of the King,” save
-“Lancelot and Elaine,” and “The Passing of Arthur,” put together. I mean
-that I really think it has more real deep true significance. Take this
-conclusion, the last prayer of Lancelot, old and passed from the world:
-
- “If ever I smote as a man should smite,
- if I struck one stroke that seem’d good in Thy sight,
- by Thy loving mercy prevailing,
- Lord! let her stand in the light of Thy face,
- cloth’d with Thy love, and crown’d with Thy grace,
- when I gnash my teeth in the terrible place
- that is fill’d with weeping and wailing.”
-
-This is splendid! His men, I say, are _men_, men such as we find in
-Byron. Orion (Satan) says that
-
- “The angel Michael was once my foe;
- _He had a little the best of our strife,_
- _yet he never could deal so stark a blow._”
-
-The lover in “No Name,” thinking of meeting “the slayer of the soul” he
-loved, says:
-
- “And I know that if, here or there, alone,
- I found him fairly, and face to face,
- _having slain his body, I would slay my own,_
- _that my soul to Satan his soul might chase_:”
-
-a remark in the strain of Heathcliff. Most of his lovers love
-passionately and sensuously, and only passionately and sensuously: The
-poet “revels in the rosy whiteness of that golden-headed girl:” if one
-thing is harder to forgive to a successful rival than another it is that
-
- “he has held her long in his arms,
- and has kissed her over and over again:”
-
-his chief regret over a dear dead girl is
-
- “for the red that never was fairly kiss’d—
- for the white that never was fairly press’d:”
-
-and, when he leaves his love for ever, he is in anguish at the thought
-that
-
- “’twill, doubtless, be another’s lot
- those very lips to press:”
-
-a remark in the more morbid strain of Keats to Fanny Brawne.
-
-When Lancelot first kisses Guinevere, he, the mighty knight, “well nigh
-swoons.” Love, with Gordon’s lovers, “consumes their hearts with a fiery
-drought.” “Laurence,” says Estelle to her lover,
-
- “Laurence, you kiss me too hard:”
-
-and the man of “Britomarte” is at hand with the appropriate criticism that
-
- “men at the bottom are merely brutes.”
-
-But we must not think that _all_ Gordon’s lovers love in this way, any
-more than that all his men merely charge and cheer. The battle is over.
-
- “And what then? The colours reversed, the drums muffled,
- the black nodding plumes, the dead march and the pall,
- the stern faces, soldier-like, silent, unruffled,
- the slow sacred music that floats over all.”
-
-This is beautiful, and no less beautiful is the tenderness of his love.
-
- “A grim grey coast, and a sea-board ghastly,
- and shores trod seldom by feet of men—
- where the batter’d hulk and the broken mast lie,
- they have lain embedded these long years ten.
- _Love! when we wandered here together,_
- _hand in hand through the sparkling weather,_
- _from the heights and hollows of fern and heather,_
- _God surely loved us a little then._”
-
-Nor is it rare to find passages in him
-
- “with the song like the song of a maiden,
- with the scent like the scent of a flower.”
-
-For “dark and true and tender is the north” with all its storm and stress.
-
-Poor “sick stock-rider” and poet, with his wild eyes and wild words,
-and that “shyness and reserve which kept him locked up, as it were, in
-himself!” Our proud, passionate heart “out-wore its breast” as “the
-sword outwears its sheath,” and so we “took our rest,” but not before we
-had won our resignation and known, or almost known, the truth, even as
-Empedocles did, and yet died because “he was come too late”—or too soon—
-
- “and the world hath the day, and must break thee,
- not thou the world.”
-
-Gordon won his resignation, and knew, or almost knew, the truth. The
-“criticism of life” that we find in the first two scenes of “The Road
-to Avernus” is almost ripe: pessimistic, it is true, but almost ripe.
-Laurence has lost his love, (and Laurence, let us remember, is the lover
-that “kisses too hard!”) Does he despair in the strain of “Rolla,” or
-“bluster,” and take refuge in the breast of “the wondrous mother age,”
-and the “vision of the world” in the strain of the man of “Locksley
-Hall?” No, he has lost his love, and the loss is bitter, but
-
- “such has been, and such shall still be, here as there, in sun or star.
- These things are to be and will be; those things were to be and are.”
-
-“As it was so,” he says again,
-
- “as it was so in the beginning,
- it shall be so in the end.”
-
-There is the feeling here of a man who is striving to see things as they
-are. He will not blind himself to things: he will not answer “the painful
-riddle of the earth” by “stopping up his mouth with a clod.” He will have
-true faith, or no faith. Fate rules us, he sees:
-
- “Man thinks, discarding the beaten track,
- that the sins of his youth are slain,
- when he seeks fresh sins, but he soon comes back
- to his old pet sins again....
- Some flashes like faint sparks from heaven,
- come rarely with rushing of wings;
- We are conscious at times, we have striven,
- though seldom, to grasp better things;
- These pass, leaving hearts that have faltered,
- good angels with faces estranged,
- and the skin of the Æthiop unalter’d,
- and the spots of the leopard unchanged.”
-
-And yet life, life as life, independent of living and loving, of activity
-and women, is not altogether hopeless:
-
- “Doubtless all are bad, yet few are
- cruel, false, and dissolute.”
-
-He never gets any farther than this. He sees, or almost sees, truth, as
-Moses saw Canaan, and then he fails. He has not had patience enough,
-not clear-sightedness enough! He cannot enter the Promised Land. “In
-defiance of pain and terror he has pressed resolutely across the howling
-deserts of Infidelity;” but he has not the strength left to do more
-than reach “the new, firm lands of Faith beyond.” He has loved life,
-living and loving, activity and women, and he has not feared to look
-into the reality of things, man and Nature and God, their sunshine and
-their shadow, their life and their death, and there is no hesitation in
-his message to us—“Onward! Onward!”—But that is all. He knows nothing
-of _how_ we are to go onward, or to _where_. He has had enough to do to
-get himself as far as he has got, to achieve what he has achieved. His
-life and work are a failure. We cannot for a moment think of calling
-him a great poet: his claim on our interest as a poet is that he is one
-of the poets, one of the martyrs, of our terrible period of transition,
-and that in him is to be found “something very like the beginnings of a
-national school of Australian poetry.” Of this second aspect of him—of
-how he is representative of what I have taken to be the distinctive marks
-of this Australian, this Melbourne civilisation, its general sense of
-movement, of progress, of conscious power: of this aspect of him I have
-spoken elsewhere, too, and there seems no need to do more here than to
-repeat the assertion. But, for my part, I cannot lay the stress on either
-this aspect of him, or the other which makes him “the poet of Australian
-scenery,” that I do on the first aspect of him. Gordon’s life and work
-are a failure, but they are a failure with enough redeeming points to
-raise them from local, or even colonial, into general interest. As our
-first and enthusiastic critic puts it: “he deserves to be ranked with
-the genuine poets of his generation,” and I feel sure that he ultimately
-will be. For he is representative not only of Australian, but of
-modern feeling: he tells not only of Australia from the fifties to the
-seventies, but of our terrible period of transition from the Old World
-into the New, from Mediævalism into Modernity.
-
-Poor “sick stock-rider” and poet, with his wild eyes and wild words—Our
-proud, passionate heart “outwore its breast,” as “the sword outwears
-its sheath,” and so we “took our rest.” “Sleep!” says Mr. Swinburne, in
-the most beautiful and satisfactory of his poems, “Ave atque Vale,” the
-lament over another of the martyrs—the author of “Les Fleurs du Mal:”—
-
- “Sleep; and, if life were bitter to thee, pardon,
- if sweet, give thanks; thou hast no more to live;
- and to give thanks is good, and to forgive ...
- Content thee, howsoe’er, whose days are done;
- There lies not any troublous thing before,
- nor sight nor sound to war against thee more,
- for whom all winds are quiet as the sun,
- all waters as the shore.”
-
- _January, 1885._
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-THE SALVATION ARMY.
-
-
-I.
-
-When a man speaks of Modern Europe, he is generally taken to mean the
-Europe of steam and electricity. As a matter of fact, Modern Europe
-really dates back to about the middle of the last century, when certain
-ideas which we call “modern” first began to be promulgated. And these
-ideas were not, as in this expression “Modern Europe” it is tacitly
-supposed, merely scientific; they were not only concerned with steam and
-electricity; they were social. And thus, when we use the expression,
-if we are to use it, in this particular sense, we should remember that
-it means, not only that the whole world is netted with railways and
-telegraphs, but also that, speaking generally, the European races are
-no longer governed by kings or aristocracies, but by middle-classes or,
-as some prefer to put it, by peoples. And this, as I take it, is far
-the more important fact of the two. I will go further, and say that it
-is the most important fact of our civilization—nay, that it _is_ our
-civilization, and that, therefore, whoever would seek to understand the
-meaning of any movement, great or small, which is taking place in our
-civilization, must seek it here, and here only! Our civilization is our
-government by the Middle-class or, as some prefer to put it, by the
-People. But that these individuals who prefer to put it so are, let us
-say, if not mistaken, at any rate inaccurate, is precisely what I want
-in this little article to try to show, and in as striking a manner as I
-can, so that, not only may I try to do something towards making clear
-to us the real deep true significance of a much misunderstood movement,
-but also that of a much more misunderstood power—the Middle-class of the
-European races. I do not propose to go through my subject thoroughly: to
-do so would require more time and more space than any editor could afford
-me. I shall merely touch on one phase of the great spiritual movement
-which is at present permeating the European races, and then turn to
-consider another phase of it—a phase which is of peculiar interest to us
-of England, America, and Australia.
-
-
-II.
-
-In Europe there is but one country that still suffers the despotism of
-an aristocracy, and that country is Russia. The modern ideas, the modern
-social ideas, have taken all this time to pass from France, Germany,
-and England into Russia, and have seized on what, for lack of a better
-word, I might call, its nascent middle-class. The results have been, and
-still are, wonderful and terrible. A group of men (for they are little
-more) has suddenly realised that the immense mass of the People is being
-despotised over in the interest of a group in reality little larger than
-itself. All, I will not say freedom, but possibilities of freedom are
-resolutely withheld. Russia at present has not the guaranteed protection
-of its men’s and women’s liberties which the English of the fourteenth,
-the thirteenth, the twelfth, the eleventh, the tenth centuries had!
-This to-day is a state of things which cannot continue. The group of
-men who see and feel this, not clearly and quietly as we outsiders can,
-but intensely and passionately, is waging a duel to the death with the
-other group, with the despotism, for the bare principles of freedom.
-On the one hand are knowledge and light, on the other ignorance and
-darkness, the modern against the ancient spirit. But, thanks to the
-fact that there are men whose whole interest is to resist the one and
-support the other to the last, the light has become lightning and not
-only irradiates but strikes. It is considered by some a question whether
-this despotism, armed with all resources of wealth and military power,
-will be able to stamp out this group before the immense mass of the
-People is awakened to the meaning of it all. Others, however, merely
-consider whether the Russian government will be destroyed by a revolution
-or constitutionalized by a reform. We English, you see, consider it all
-clearly and quietly as mere outsiders, and so, as regards the _aspect_ of
-the problem, we are; but not, not as regards the problem itself! These
-modern ideas, these social ideas, are working not only in Russia, where
-the abuses which surround them make them burn so fiercely, but more or
-less all over Europe, and in England rather more than less. Ireland,
-we all see, smoulders with them. And why, pray? Because England and
-Ireland are always snarling at one another, “it being their nature to?”
-Not so. It is because that aspect of the problem which is presented to
-Great Britain generally is a little more pressing in Ireland than in
-England or Scotland. The trouble in Ireland is not national but social.
-The strife is not between Irish and English: it is between peasants and
-landlords. Unhappily many landlords are English: unhappily many peasants
-believe that the English as a nation support the landlords as a class.
-Hence whatever Irish hatred of England there may be; but the trouble is
-not, I repeat, national, it is social. It is the People rising against
-the Middle-class.
-
-Well, this movement, whether it be in Russia, in England, in Germany,
-in France, in America, we are all pretty well agreed to call the
-Socialistic movement. It represents the effort of the People after social
-improvement. It took its rise not from _within_ the people, but from
-_without_. The French, English, and German Socialists were originally
-groups of men who suddenly realized that the immense mass of the People
-was being despotized over in the interest of the Middle-class. Each
-country has its peculiar aspect of this fact, but the fact is the same
-in each. In France the Middle-class made and supported the Empire, and,
-having stamped out the People’s wild attempt at power in ’71, made and
-supports the Republic. In Germany—dismembered Germany—the problem was
-pushed back before the apparently greater one of national unity, but now
-it arises again and demands solution. In England the landed proprietors,
-and still more the capitalists, are beginning to have qualms; but the
-real struggle does not lie between them and the Socialists: they are but
-overgrown individuals of a class. There will be no more Tories and no
-more Conservatives: the future lies in the struggle between Liberals and
-Socialists, the Middle-class and the People.
-
-This Socialistic movement, then, took its rise not from _within_ the
-People but from _without_, and not in connection with Religion, the
-great ally of the powers that were, the Middle-class, but on the whole
-antagonistic to it. This movement took its rise in men of intellect who
-had little or no care for Religion, and its tendency is intellectual and
-careless of Religion. The Middle-class has shown nothing but dislike to
-this movement: the Middle-class has understood enough of the ideas of
-this movement to know that they are subversive of its own superiority.
-As for the People, they have understood little or nothing. Socialists
-tell them, what is indeed the truth, that they are the masters:
-that to-morrow, if they pleased, they could send a parliament up to
-Westminster that should dictate what terms they pleased to “their lords
-and masters, the landowners and the capitalists.” The People does not
-happily believe it. They are so hopeless: they have been deceived so
-often by those who said they would help them. (Bill here, you see, with
-a wife and six children, all living in a den that the Zoological people
-would consider unfit for a hyena—Bill cannot be made to understand how
-the question comes home to _him_!) Besides which, let us say it at once
-and insist upon it, the People is the most long-suffering of all things:
-it desires to despoil no man, it only desires the happiness which mere
-food, clothing, and a house will give it.
-
-In this state of affairs—the powerlessness of the Socialists to bring
-home to the People the great idea of social improvement—lie the causes of
-the religious movement whose best-known and best representative is the
-Salvation Army.
-
-
-III.
-
-Consider it—first generally and then particularly.
-
-In Russia the People has religion and no freedom. In England the People
-has freedom and no religion. (In both, let us add, the People has misery
-unspeakable). The one question presses for solution in the one country,
-the other in the other. The two most piteous spectacles in Europe are
-the religious People of Russia, and the free People of England. The
-Aristocracy which governs the one, the Middle-class which governs the
-other, both are equally indifferent to the People. Add to the fact of
-the utter want of religion of the English People (it is understood that
-by People I mean the masses), the fact of their utter want of, I will
-not say the comforts, but the necessities of life, and you have a field
-for revolution such as nowhere else, I believe, presents itself save
-in Russia herself.—I speak in the present, as if the problem presented
-itself to me to-day just as it did years ago, and I am delighted to
-notice that at last the English Middle-class is awakening to the fact of
-the misery of the People, and also of the danger of letting that misery
-continue. But it is quite a mistake to suppose that either the one or the
-other is mitigated, not to say ended, or that it will be so for years to
-come.
-
-Religion in England—and Religion has, inaptly enough, become a
-synonym for Christianity, in which general sense of the term I use it
-here—Religion in England, just like everything else, is conducted in
-the interest of the Middle-class. Go into the London back-streets on
-a sunday morning. You will find the men leaning against the walls, the
-women at the doors, the children in the gutters. The public-houses,
-you observe, are closed: the Middle-class does not like that the
-People should be drinking beer and spirits while they themselves are
-indulging in religious worship. Enter the church or the chapel. What are
-the services like? We all know them—a performance on the part of the
-choir, or a discreet, sibilant, half-articulate murmur on the part of
-the congregation. The clergyman or minister reads out a portion of the
-wonderful and beautiful history of Jesus in a fine meaningless monotone,
-and “here endeth the second lesson.” But of the passion and the peace
-of the Galilean story, what does _he_ know? He has forgotten or never
-known Jesus, but he can tell you plenty about Christ. Listen to the
-sermons. What do they treat of? Matters that are likely to interest the
-men and women outside there? The sermons are empty of Jesus and full
-of Christ—empty of the truth of the Master and full of the dogmas of
-the Pupils. Theology, theological dogmas, Catholic or Protestant, are
-perhaps interesting to men and women who are well to do, and like to
-have something to argue about; but what does poverty care for them? The
-man who has eaten a good breakfast and is waiting for a good dinner may
-care to have it shown to him, that he and his fellows are the one body
-of Christians that is absolutely and entirely orthodox; but the man with
-an empty belly, and little or no prospect of filling it, may perhaps be
-forgiven for not caring a jot whether these are blasts of true or false
-doctrine, or not. The matter does not affect him: he stops outside. So
-should we.
-
-Now, I would not for a moment imply that there are not priests,
-clergymen, and ministers who have done, and are doing, fine and noble
-work among the People. There are many such. But what I do say is, that,
-speaking generally, the church and the chapel have both utterly failed
-to seriously affect the mass of the People, and that they have done
-so for the reasons I have given above.—“In the year 1865,” says Mr.
-Booth in one of the Salvation Army pamphlets, “Mr. Booth was led, by
-the Providence of God, by no plan or idea of his own, to the East of
-London, where the appalling fact that the enormous bulk of the population
-were totally ignorant and deficient of real religion, and altogether
-uninfluenced by the existing religious organizations, so impressed him
-that he determined to devote his life to _making_ these people _hear_
-and _know_ God, and thus save them from the abyss of misery in which they
-were plunged, and rescue them from the damnation that was before them.
-The Salvation Army is the result.” _The Salvation Army is the result._ He
-simply states the fact. It was “by no plan or idea of his own.” He has,
-so far as I know, never explained more than the phenomena of it.[6] I
-have talked with one of his sons on the subject, and all he has to tell
-me in explanation of 859 corps or stations, 2041 paid officials, and
-_War Cry_ newspapers with a weekly circulation of 550,000, is _how_, as
-he takes it, the Salvationists “get at” the People; but he knows, and
-probably cares, absolutely nothing about the _why_. “The grate was set,”
-I say, “You were the match, and behold the fire!” “It is the Lord,” he
-says, and I do not think of contradicting him. It is not natural that a
-man who takes part in a movement should know more than the _how_ of it,
-should know the _why_. If he did, he would not be as unhesitating as he
-is in his belief that his movement is so good. To achieve little we must
-aim at much. He who lives passionately in the present must leave the dead
-to bury their dead and the babes unborn to consider their suckling: he
-must create, he has not time to criticise. At the same time how important
-it is that there should be not only doers but watchers; not only creators
-but critics; not only those who concern themselves with the _how_ but
-also those who concern themselves with the _why_, for the _why_ unlocks
-the gates of both the past and the future: it tells us not only the
-_whence_ but also the _whither_.
-
-Now, as I have said, in a certain state of affairs which we have noticed
-lies _this why_, and there, if we can only look well enough, we shall
-find it. The Salvation Army is, like everything else an organism. It
-has its seed, and all its stages of development up to its maturity and
-down into its decay, when it, too, like everything else, will go to form
-nutriment for other organisms, just as others have for its own.
-
-Now, nothing will help us more in our search after this _why_ than a
-knowledge of the _how_, and, since this knowledge is, at any rate among
-the governing classes, wonderfully limited, I propose giving a short
-account of how the Salvation Army and its work has struck me personally.
-It seems almost needless to state that I am an unprejudiced observer.
-The Salvation Army, as the Salvation Army, is literally nothing to me:
-my only interest in it lies in the influence which it exerts, whether
-for good or evil, on the People. I have no cause to plead. If anyone can
-point out mistakes of mine, or even demonstrate to me that my whole view
-of this matter is an illusion, no one, I am sure, will be more pleased
-and grateful than myself. Those are our real benefactors who demonstrate
-to us an illusion and open the way to a better view of things.
-
-
-IV.
-
-I propose, I said, giving a short account of how the Salvation Army and
-its work has struck me personally. When I was in England I studied it,
-as I study all movements that are going on around me, with more or less
-care. Since I have been in Australia I have done the same, and, as I have
-found the differences between the English and Australian Salvation Armies
-to be immaterial ones, and as I am now addressing an Australian audience,
-I shall speak of the Salvation Army as I have seen it here, so that he
-who cares may go and see for himself whether I am correct or incorrect in
-my view of it. This, too, will enable him more easily, if he desires it,
-to point out my mistakes and even demonstrate to me that my whole view is
-an illusion, and make me his pleased and grateful debtor for life. First,
-however, let me just notice what these differences between the English
-and Australian Salvation Armies are. In one word the Australian is less
-exaggerative. The People in Australia breathes free: it does not feel
-the weight of the two great divisions of the Middle-class that is above
-it, the well-to-do and the gentlemen. Workmen here do not go slouching
-down the streets, as they do in England, crushed under the sense of
-their inferiority. This is a true republic, the truest, as I take it,
-in the world. In England the average man feels that he is an inferior:
-in America he feels that he is a superior: in Australia he feels that
-he is an equal. This is indeed delightful. It is the first thing that
-strikes a new arrival in this country, and although Australia’s sins—sins
-against true civilization, I mean—are as many as they are heinous, still
-a multitude of them, as it seems to me, is covered by this—namely, that
-here the People is neither servile nor insolent, but only shows its
-respect of itself by its respect of others. Nowhere else but in France is
-there, I think, anything quite like it.
-
-There is, then, naturally less exaggerativeness in the Australian than
-the English Salvation Army. When a man is, as they say, “saved” there,
-it is from a far deeper “abyss of misery” than it is here. The very
-atmosphere of England is heavy with the degradation of the People. For a
-man to become, no longer passively, but actively aware of this, is almost
-overwhelming, and so is his feeling when he believes that he has escaped
-from it. Hence those wild words and acts of the Salvationists which have
-offended so many. Add to this the excitement caused by a large gathering,
-religious emulation, etc., etc., and the matter is a simple one.
-
-Now let us go to a Salvationist popular service, and see their manner of
-work there. The hall is crowded. The great bulk of the congregation is
-made up of the upper stratum of the People, servants, small shopkeepers,
-etc. There are also a not inconsiderable number of the lower stratum of
-the People, labourers. Many outsiders have come from curiosity. On the
-stage or platform are a certain number of the regular paid officials in
-their uniforms, and of “hallelujah lasses” in their straight dresses
-and poke-bonnets. Considering these men and women attentively, what
-most strikes us is that the generality are, as Jeffrey said lightly of
-Carlyle, “terribly in earnest.” Some have the business-like air of all
-officials, religious or otherwise: some have a somewhat disgusted air,
-as if they were rather wearying of it all, now that the novelty has worn
-off. But the generality of them are, there is no doubt of it, “terribly
-in earnest.” Presently the head officials enter, and the service is
-opened with a hymn. The Salvationists sing well: I remember that, at the
-first Salvationist service at which I was present, this singing of theirs
-was something like a revelation to me. It was not its “go,” as we say,
-that affected me: it was its depth and sweetness. It comes from the heart
-and goes to the heart. This is the only language the People can either
-use or understand.
-
-Just beside me a little boy of four or five, standing between his
-father’s knees with shut eyes and waving arm, is shouting and bawling
-out the words of the hymn, so that he may attract attention and be an
-“edification.” It is painful. (Later on during a prayer he lies along
-the floor on his stomach and eats a green apple and pinches a bigger
-boy’s legs. Myself, I prefer him like that.) During the prayers there
-are frequent interruptions, chiefly from the platform, of “Hallelujah,”
-“Praise God,” and so on, for the most part in a business-like fashion,
-quite formal. A man cannot repeat the same words and acts for long with
-impunity.—These, and things like these, are the inevitable accompaniments
-of all services, religious or otherwise. We take them for granted, and
-pass on.
-
-Presently a man is brought forward to give his testimony. He begins by
-saying that he never thought to address such a gathering as this, that he
-is a poor ignorant man, and so on, but that he trusts in Jesus to help
-him through alright. He tells his tale. It is a tale for ever old and for
-ever new. He was a drunkard, he was debauched, a blasphemer. He used his
-wife and children ill, he paid no heed to the clergyman and the minister.
-Then a Salvationist came to him and told him about Jesus. And that
-converted him, and now, etc., etc., etc. His excitement grows: his voice
-rises to a high-pitched monotone. He implores, he begs, he entreats, he
-abjures. “Come to Jesus, come to Jesus! It’s only him can make you happy!
-You don’t know how he loves you!—O dear people,” he bursts out at length,
-“I could _die_ for you, if you would only come to him!” In the end, it is
-painful: the high-pitched monotone oppresses us, and we are glad when he
-has ended.
-
-Another follows, but with little or no variety. Then a girl speaks,
-“happy Janet” (say). She has just the same tale to tell: it is all Jesus,
-nothing but Jesus! “To think,” I heard one of these girls say, hushed
-and awed, “to think that the Son of God loved us so that he suffered all
-this for _us_! To think of the thorns wounding his beautiful brow!” and
-her voice broke.—Janet cannot say too much about the suffering of Jesus,
-because it was because he loved us all so, that he suffered. Then she
-tells how she had a brother, and the brother thought he was old enough to
-be by hisself, and do for hisself, and he went away, away to Màn-chester,
-and they were all very sad about it, e-specially mother. And the days
-and the weeks and the months went by, and they never heard anythink
-about him, and they went out and up and down the town, hoping he might
-come back and they might see him again, for he might be ashamed, they
-thought, to come into the house. And sometimes mother’d come to wake her
-up early in the morning, and say: “Come, Janet, let’s go out and look for
-Tom: maybe we’ll find him _this_ morning.” And they used to go out and
-look for him in the early morning, and they couldn’t find him. But at
-last he _did_ come back, and O, dear people, how thin he was! Yes, he’d
-had enough of it! He found he couldn’t do for hisself after all, so he
-came back to mother and us, and we loved him more than ever.—And O, dear
-people, that’s the way with _us_ and Jesus. We think we’re old enough
-to be by ourselves and to do for ourselves. But we ar’n’t: we’re never
-old enough to do without Jesus! He’s always loving us and strengthening
-us and giving us peace. So come to him; don’t wait any longer but come
-to him! Don’t think you’re too wicked. No one’s too wicked for Jesus:
-he suffered for us and he died for us, for _you_ and _me_, and he loves
-us more than all the others do, and we can’t tell how glad it makes him
-when we come to him! Here, as in the singing, it is not the “go,” the
-excitement, which affects us most, it is the depth and sweetness. It
-comes from the heart and goes to the heart. It is the only language the
-People can either use or understand.
-
-_Jesus!_—It is always Jesus, I say, never or very rarely Christ. These
-Salvationists feel and know their Master. With them he lives: with
-us he exists. And Jesus is to them as some one dowered with all the
-possibilities of mortal happiness who yet renounced everything from his
-great love for the People, and suffered and died for them a cruel death.
-Herein is the secret of the sempiternal influence of Jesus: he is the
-great Lover. I do not for a moment think that these Salvationists have
-any connected scheme of the character or life of Jesus. They cannot
-argue about him, they would say: they know that he _lives_. They lay
-little or no stress on the risen Jesus, the Christ. Their concern is
-with the living Jesus, him who loved the flowers and the children and
-the publicans and the harlots, him who showed his love by his life and
-above all by his cruel death. This Jesus was not a philanthropist: he
-was better, he was a lover. “He, who might have been a great king,
-actually preferred to come and suffer and die a cruel death because
-he loved us so!” This love, this pity seems to them unique, godlike.
-“_To think of the thorns wounding his beautiful brow._” Hence the power
-of Jesus to awaken in men a sense of sin, and, still more, a hope of
-salvation. “Why,” they ask, “did this wonderful beautiful Jesus suffer
-all this?—_why?_” Then comes the answer. “_Because he saw that I was a
-sinner and he loved and pitied me so, that he suffered all this for my
-sake._” It is an overwhelming fact. Once get a man to see it and his life
-is revolutionised: he believes in Love.
-
-Napoleon, we remember, was puzzled by this sempiternal influence of
-Jesus. He remarked that he himself understood how to awaken in his
-own behalf the enthusiasm of men, but he was alive, whereas Jesus was
-dead. “_O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and
-stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered
-thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her
-wings, but ye would not!_” Yearning love like this was a mystery to
-our wonderful destructive Emperor: he would have called it foolish.
-And to many others beside him this sempiternal influence of Jesus has
-been, is, and will be the same. Here is our good Man of Science, the
-immortal dunce who dates knowledge from “Social Statics” and the “Origin
-of Species,” who thinks Jesus was a very fine character, you know, but
-full of superstition and delusion. And here is our most irrational of
-Rationalists who has a pathetic faith in the method of the late lamented
-Bishop Colenso, a method which consists in the profound consideration
-of the geometry of the empyrean and the colour of mathematical figures.
-And lastly, here is our dear blatant Secularist whose discourse so
-pleasantly shows us how a man who was a blockhead as a Christian can be
-doubly a blockhead as a Secularist.—Here, I say, are these three types,
-or let us take them as individuals. Here is our good friend Mr. Caffyn,
-who was writing such brilliant letters to the _Argus_ the other day,
-letters which show a nice acquaintance with the books of Dr. Maudsley and
-the rudiments of modern physiology; and here is the late lamented Sir
-Richard Hanson of Adelaide, whose mantle is just now descending on Mr.
-Justice Williams; and, lastly, here is our loquacious friend at the Hall
-of Science, Mr. Joseph Symes. All these gather around the poor ignorant
-labourer who is “saved,” and demonstrate to him his foolishness in
-believing in such an outworn piece of nonsense as Christianity. “As for
-this Jesus of yours, my good man,” they say after their several fashions,
-“he was a very fine character, you know, but—_he was only a man just like
-you or me_!” To whom the poor ignorant labourer answers with a smile:
-“Whether he be a fine character or not, I know not: one thing I know,
-that, _whereas I was blind, now I see_.” Come away, Mr. Caffyn: come
-away, ghost of Sir Richard: come away, Mr. Symes. It is quite useless
-to talk with a besotted Christo-maniac like this. Why, he absolutely
-believes that he has a spiritual experience of which you are ignorant,
-and can afford to smile at you! After this, the deluge!—Gentlemen, hadn’t
-you better go home to dinner, and leave the poor devil alone?
-
-To return to the meeting, which is not yet concluded.—When the
-testimonies are all given, those who feel that they have been leading a
-life of sin are exhorted to come forward and profess. The hall empties.
-Ten or twelve, men and women, young men and girls, come forward and
-kneel down at a bench in front of the platform. Some are inclined to be
-hysterical. The Salvationists, men and women, come and talk to them,
-leaning against them, their arms round their shoulders, exhorting and
-encouraging. This, you see, is Religious Socialism. No one can love
-Jesus, “the divine Communist” (as Heine calls him), with impunity. If you
-love, and to love is to know, Jesus, you must get others to love and to
-know him, and your desire to get others fills you with the same yearning
-love for them that Jesus has for you: “_O dear people, I could ~die~ for
-you, if you would only come to him_!”
-
-Then, when no more will come forward, the service concludes with each of
-those who is “saved,” speaking before them all—saying what has come to
-him to make him repent, and expressing his firm determination to lead
-a better life. The first step has now been taken—the man by his public
-confession is compromised. He cannot now so easily fall back. He is known
-to his fellows, who will exhort and encourage him. He has every incentive
-to date a new life from to-day, not to put it off over and over again to
-“to-morrow.”
-
-What, is all this, then, a trap? Yes, if you care to call it so. Men,
-to whom the “saved” and the “unsaved” life, the bliss of heaven and the
-anguish of hell, is a passionate reality, speak of it passionately to
-the ignorant or the careless, and then (like true guilefully guileless
-religionists) take advantage of the moment of realization which they have
-aroused in a soul, to compromise that soul before the world to lead a new
-life of continual realization. You see, these Salvationists are of the
-men and women of the People and they know the men and women, not only
-of the People, but of each and every class of us: they know how frail
-is unaided resolution, and they act on their knowledge. Do not think,
-though, that they believe that weakness of will is to be found only
-among the People. Far from it! They attack Respectability, they attack
-the hypocrisy of the Middle-class, as fearlessly as they attack the open
-sin of the People. Our good clergymen and ministers, for whom I have, in
-many respects, so much admiration, are afraid to attack the Middle-class:
-the Middle-class is the payer of pew-rents. Alas, alas, ye cannot serve
-God and Mammon! It is really a great nuisance; but ye cannot! Now these
-Salvationists do not happen to have pews: so they need not stand hat
-in hand before Respectability. They can say boldly that the Publican
-is as good as the Pharisee: that hypocrisy is no better, if it is not
-far worse, than open sin. Look, to it, my in-so-many-respects-admirable
-clergymen and ministers, you are not masters here but pupils!
-
-
-V.
-
-I am not going to discuss the question of Salvationist ritual. Brass
-bands and concertinas give but a poor idea of “the beauty of holiness:”
-a dissenting chapel does the same. Banners and handkerchiefs and so
-on are apt to be tawdry: so are dressed statues, standards, incense,
-and the rest. But who, considering the hideousness of Protestantism
-and the tawdriness of Catholicism, would therefore call Protestantism
-hideous and Catholicism tawdry? Certainly not I who am so sincere an
-admirer of them both. Neither, then, considering what we hear called the
-Christy-Minstrelism and Music-Hallism of the Salvation Army, must we
-think that, when we have called their meetings Christy Minstrels or Music
-Halls, we have quite disposed of them. Alas, my dear Middle-class, cannot
-you see that the People is what you, who govern the People, have made
-it? Might I, a humble unit of your millions, suggest to you that it is
-just because, what you call, your Upper Ten Thousand is hideous that you
-are more hideous? and that it is just because you, my dear Middle-class,
-are more hideous that the People is most hideous? Will it be many ages,
-I wonder, before you can be got to see this?—to see that you had better
-take the mote out of your own eye before you are so enthusiastic about
-taking the beams out of the eyes of your neighbours?
-
-If, however, anyone wants to see what Mr. Booth himself has to say
-in defence of his “Colours, Bands of Music, Processions, and other
-sensational methods employed” (as he says), I would refer him to a
-little penny pamphlet called “All about the Salvation Army,” which
-can be got at the Salvation Army Head-quarters in Russell Street. For
-myself, I have nothing to do with this side of the question: I profess
-that I consider most church-bells are as bad as most brass-bands, and am
-profoundly indifferent as to whether they are, as Mr. Booth would like
-to know, “unscriptural” or not. I am of opinion that the admirers of
-church-bells and brass-bands had better fight it out among themselves.
-
-I have as good as said that what makes the outer strength of the
-Salvationists is their realization of Jesus as liver and lover. Love,
-yearning love, is undoubtedly the chief characteristic of Jesus. But,
-just as the sun gives forth not only heat but light, so did he. His
-life was love: his death was peace. “_My peace I leave with you._” And
-it is just here, just in their realization of “the mildness and sweet
-reasonableness” of Jesus that the Salvationists are apt to be lacking:
-and it is just here that the Church of England more than any other
-Christian sect is, as it seems to me, so strong. The _Hymns Ancient and
-Modern_ are, on the whole, the best song-book extant of this “mildness
-and sweet reasonableness.” We must not, however, think that this
-demand for the peace as well as the love of Jesus is not recognised
-by the Salvationists: it is, but I cannot think that it is recognised
-adequately. As soon as a man is “saved” and has “professed,” there are
-open to him, what they call, the Holiness Meetings. These are the answer
-to the demand for peace. But they differ only particularly from the other
-meetings. They are smaller, and hence quieter, than the others; but there
-is, so to speak, too much heat and too little light in them. Here is the
-weak point in the Salvationist movement, just as it is the strong point
-in (I always take the best example our Christianity can give us) the
-Church of England. Here it is the turn of the Salvationists to be not
-masters, but pupils. Let us hope that they will see this, and not only
-teach, but also (which is so much more difficult) be ready to learn from,
-us.
-
-
-VI.
-
-There are still two parts of the work of the Salvationists to
-consider—their work with the inmates of the prisons, and their work with
-the inmates of the brothels. Here again we have everything to learn
-from them, from them the true disciples of “the divine Communist.” The
-former work they have made a speciality of, and they are rapidly making
-the latter. I doubt very much that our churches and chapels (I am not
-speaking now of the Catholics, whose work is almost exclusively among the
-Irish, and the Irish are of a race that, save in the matter of agrarian
-crime and a curious cruelty to dumb animals, is truly admirable for the
-honesty of its men and the chastity of its women): I doubt very much,
-I say, that our churches and chapels will ever get much at either the
-criminals or the prostitutes. Our clergymen, who are so gentlemanly, and
-our ministers who are so respectable, can neither speak nor understand
-much the language of the People, the language of the heart. The clergymen
-are shocked by the foulness, the ministers by the ferocity, of the
-People. Both feel that they are condescending—the one from the height of
-refinement, the other from the height of righteousness. The people has no
-love for condescension of this sort. There are few words that stink more
-in its nostrils than that of charity, and indeed charity, when it means a
-gift from a superior to an inferior, is hateful enough. It is a popular
-delusion with the “charitable” that street beggars and the inmates of
-the workhouses are the People. Far otherwise is it, O “charitable” ones:
-these are not independent animals, they are parasites: they are (if you
-will pardon me saying so) your spiritual lice; so please make the best of
-them, since it is not only on account of, but _on_, you that they live.
-
-Well, now, wherein is it that these fanatical ignorant Salvationists _do_
-get at the People? One of them answers us at once: “_No one’s too wicked
-for Jesus, and so no one’s too wicked for me who am the simple follower
-of Jesus._ If _he_ could do with publicans and harlots, why cannot I?”
-They say, as Walt Whitman says to “a common prostitute,”
-
- “Not till the sun excludes you do I exclude you,
- Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you and the leaves to rustle
- for you, do my words refuse to glisten and rustle for you.”
-
-This, you see, is Religious Socialism. It proclaims the spiritual
-equality of all men. The _spiritual_ equality, let us notice; it will
-have nothing to do with the social equality. “_My kingdom is not of
-this world.... Give unto Cæsar the things which be Cæsar’s, and to God
-the things which be God’s._” “Honour all men,” says Peter, “love the
-brotherhood, fear God, honour the king.” And more: Religious Socialism
-has a tendency to be careless of the dogmas of the creeds. “Is the Army
-hostile,” asks Mr. Booth, “to the existing evangelical denominations?
-Just the contrary. Numbers of its converts go to swell the membership
-of the churches. More than 400 persons, converted and trained in its
-ranks, have been engaged by other different religious organisations
-as Evangelists, Ministers,” etc., etc., etc. We notice that he says
-“_evangelical_ denominations?” The Catholics, of course, from (who shall
-I say?) Augustine to Pascal and Newman, are poor belated idolaters, only
-slightly better than the heathen. This, you see, is where Mr. Booth,
-like Mr. Spurgeon and the rest, so pleasantly shows us what nonsense an
-earnest short-sighted man is capable of believing and brandishing about
-the world with a godless blatancy. Personally, I cannot make myself angry
-with any of them for it. For what would an earnest man be without his
-faults? without, as D’Israeli puts it, a single redeeming vice?
-
-In Melbourne there is a tendency now to let the Salvation Army have its
-own way unmolested with the criminals and the prostitutes. “It can’t
-do any harm,” people say, “and it may do good, and really, you know,
-the—the Social Evil wants looking to.” Nay, more: having made this
-nice expression “Social Evil,” we are at last plucking up courage to
-acknowledge that it exists, and that it is not necessarily a sign of
-filthy-mindedness to wish to discuss it. We speak of it now in papers
-which come under the eye of those dear creatures about whose stainless
-purity of mind we are all so anxious (even that Puritanic print, the
-_Melbourne Bulletin_ is anxious, and the _Sydney Bulletin_, also, for
-all I know to the contrary)—“our wives and daughters.” Why, possibly
-there are those among us who will live to see the day when the expression
-“fearful sinner,” as applied to some poor girl driven out into the
-miseries of the streets, will be confined to the utterance of our good
-friends of the Scotch Presbytery, and other few such like. Then, it will
-be amusing: at present, it is only detestable.
-
-
-VII.
-
-Now let us go to the Barracks of the Prison Brigade, and see what has
-to be seen there. The officials (all, I believe, old criminals) and the
-men that they have just got hold of, are gathered for a sort of home
-service. Man after man, boy after boy, rises to give his “experience.”
-The “experiences” can be pretty easily imagined. Then there are hymns,
-choruses, addresses by the higher officials present. All, or almost
-all here, there is no doubt of it, are “terribly in earnest.” The
-interruptions, “Hallelujah,” “Praise God,” and so on, are all earnest.
-One boy with a maimed face gets up and says: “I was miserable in the
-streets, I’m very happy now. God bless the Major,” and sits down again.
-For me, I confess that, over and over again, I have not known whether
-to answer the word and acts of these men, or shall I say children, with
-smiles or tears. Now and then I have answered them with both.
-
-Afterwards we are shown the bedrooms, observing that we do not want
-to see them. I have seen many bedrooms that were delightful, and many
-keepers thereof whose hearts were as clean and hard as the floors.
-Also I have seen bedrooms that were poor and crowded, and the keepers
-thereof whose hearts were as rich as love and as soft as pity. I prefer
-the latter, myself, if I must choose between them, but tastes of course
-are different. Then the boy with the maimed face is brought in, to tell
-his tale and show his wounded leg. The People like you to look at their
-wounds and sores and casualties generally. It is painful. It is like the
-young ladies of the Middle-class who like you to look at their drawings
-and paintings, or listen to their playing and singing. I do not know
-which habit is the more painful of the two—perhaps, on the whole, the
-latter. The first only hurts my senses: the second hurts my soul. It
-makes me lose hope in my ideas for the future of the Middle-class: it
-makes me think it is doomed to the hideousness of clap-trap for ever. It
-is like a visit to the sculpture at the Melbourne Public Library.
-
-They show us the rooms and bring us the boy, you notice, in that
-practical English spirit which is intent on making it clear that their
-cry is proportionate to their wool, a fact of which we are not altogether
-ignorant. Hence our carelessness about more than a glance at the rooms,
-or a short talk with the boy with the maimed face. I think I could tell
-him as much about himself as he can tell me. I have known him many times
-before.
-
-It is pleasing to notice here how much they insist on the new life, how
-comparatively little stress they lay on the “conversion,” on the being
-“saved.” Also, that the Salvationists know how to laugh. It is only men
-who keep their religion for a fine heavy diet on sunday who cannot pray
-at one moment and laugh at another. If my religion is a part of _me_, it
-is also clearly a part of my laughter.
-
-Now let us go the rounds of the opium dens and brothels round about
-Little Bourke Street. We walk, my Salvationist and I, into any house that
-we wish. No one opposes us: only once in the whole evening are we spoken
-to other than respectfully. “_You see_,” says the mistress of the most
-facially contorted Chinee I have yet seen, “_You see, the Salvationists
-helps the girls, that’s why we likes ’em!_” Here we are in a den, a girl
-lying on one side of the bed (the Chinese beds are like large alcoves.
-In the middle is the opium-tray, containing the pipe, a lamp, etc.), a
-Chinee on the other, getting her pipe ready for her. We sit and chat
-with her. She tells us about herself simply enough, showing no signs
-of wishing to alter her condition. Then the other girl comes in, and
-we chat with her. My Salvationist recognises her: she was at Bella’s
-funeral. (Bella was a girl who fell down dead in the brothel opposite,
-and the Army buried her. All “the girls” about clubbed together, hired
-cabs, and went to the funeral.) “O yes,” says the girl to him, “you said
-the service for Bella.” She too tells us about herself simply enough.
-Her mother is at Ballarat.—“Does she know you’re here?”—“O yes, she
-knows.”—“Does she think you’re in service?”—“O no, _she_ knows what I’m
-doing;” and so on. Presently I go into the other room and talk pigeon
-English with the remarkable spectacled Chinee, who is like a venerable
-old ape. Why will the English girls come and live with the Chinese? The
-answer is simple: the Chinese both pay them well and are kind to them.
-These girls are not bruised on the face and arms as most of the others
-are.
-
-You perceive now how the Salvationists work here? They are the “friends”
-of the girls: they “help” them. Find out from a girl if she is miserable:
-find out if she would sooner go back to a respectable life. Go everywhere
-fearlessly: Find out if any girl is being detained against her wishes. Be
-gentle with them as with equals. Make them feel that you care for them
-for their own sakes. Work upon their feelings—speak of their home, their
-mother, their father, their brothers, their sisters. Offer them a new
-start. Then, the moment that of their own free will they are ready to
-come, put them into a cab and drive straight away with them to the Home.
-Here they come under the influence of the women officials of the Army,
-(some of whom, however, also do visiting work), the same system being
-pursued with them as with the men. They are not made to feel that they
-are dealing with people more loftily refined or more loftily righteous
-than themselves. They are not made to feel that they are “fearful
-sinners.” They are made to feel that sin is fearful and that they have
-sinned fearfully, but that they have every hope before them, hope of a
-new life before God and man. As for the women officials of the Salvation
-Army, I will say this, that in no body of female religionists, except
-the Catholic Sisters, have I found so many sweet true women. I have also
-known Anglican Sisters who were well worthy of a place beside them.
-Such women are the essence of Christianity. They are the true children
-of Mary Magdalene and Monica, of the love and of the affection of the
-soul. Preference for any one of these three classes, there can be none.
-I cannot exalt true love above true affection any more than I can exalt
-heat above light: their joy is equal. But in one respect the Salvationist
-women have an advantage over the others, just as the Salvationist men
-have over the celibate priests—in just that, in the fact that they need
-not be celibates. Many of these Salvationist girls and women are the
-sweethearts or wives of their fellow-workers. This, I think, is as it
-should be. He who neglects or despises that great law of Nature and God,
-passion, will be assuredly punished for it. To make a large body of men
-and women celibates is to put a premium on immorality and hypocrisy. This
-great rock the Salvation Army has avoided, and herein it has done most
-wisely. Here, where Rome is weak, it is strong. We must not, however,
-think that there is nothing to be said in behalf of celibacy: there is
-much, very much. If we were all men like Francis of Assissi or Vincent
-de Paul, it would be perfect; but unfortunately we are not. At the same
-time, he who has seen the work of Catholic priests and of Protestant
-clergymen or ministers in times of plague and pest must feel how great
-a clog to perfect courage are those hostages a man has given to fate in
-wife and children. On the other hand, observe that times of pest and
-plague are comparatively rare, and that every great idea when put into
-practice is but a mixed good. What we have to do is to choose that which
-has least evil, or shall we say most good, and this can, we feel sure, be
-only chosen in conformity with all of those few great primeval laws which
-are the guides of life, which are the direct words of Nature and of God.
-
-
-VIII.
-
-So much, then, for the _how_ of the Salvation Army. Let us now consider
-if it has helped us to the _why_—nay, if it has not absolutely told us
-the _why_! Did we not instinctively catch at something we saw two or
-three times rising before us as with small but teleological significance
-in it? Did we not feel, as we uttered that expression with which this
-something inspired us, that here was the _why_ in propria persona?
-_Religious Socialism._
-
-In this state of affairs—the powerlessness of the Socialists to bring
-home to the People the great idea of social improvement: in the misery
-unspeakable of the People; in the atmosphere heavy with the degradation
-of the People—what is it that the People has done? _It has evolved a
-movement_, _no longer from_ without, _but from_ within _itself_. _It has
-sought for consolation for its unspeakable wretchedness in the perennial
-spring of Religion, of the yearning love of Jesus. It has, at the touch
-of the first match that came to it, blazed up into the flaming fire of
-Religious Socialism._
-
-In the early part of the thirteenth century the People did the same, the
-People of Italy. But what a heaven lies between the man who led _that_
-movement and the man that is leading this! O my eloquent Rationalists, O
-my loquacious Secularists, both of you whom I esteem so much—how ready
-are you to talk of the degradation which that gigantic superstition and
-delusion, Christianity, wrought upon the People! Whenever are you tired
-of brandishing “starry Galileo” and scattering the scattered dust of
-poor old Copernicus in the face of Catholicism, making it to tremble and
-sneeze fearfully? Does it never occur to you that that divine Goddess
-Scientia, whom you worship with such noble devotion, has wrought a
-far deeper degradation on the people than Catholicism ever did? Have
-you never seen, crouching under the shadow of your railways and your
-telegraphs and all your improved machinery, the unspeakable wretchedness
-of London, of Birmingham, of Manchester, of Glasgow? And now that this
-People, whose lives your Goddess has made of such a sort that they will
-not stand too favourable a comparison with those of dogs—now that this
-People, in its passionate searching after some consolation, however
-slight, of whatever sort, seizes on this creature of superstition and
-delusion, this Jesus who is _only a man, just like you or me_, and
-whom you have so triumphantly proved so, and makes him the text for
-this flaming fire of Religious Socialism—has it never struck you, O my
-eloquent Rationalists, O my loquacious Secularists, what an appalling
-difference there is between Salvation Army banners, handkerchiefs,
-brass-bands, and concertinas, and the “green boughs, flags, music, and
-songs of gladness” that came forth from the Umbrian towns and villages
-to welcome Francis of Assissi? have you never felt that there is any
-essential difference between the perpetual Revivalist hymn of “My Jesus
-to know and to feel his blood flow,” and the “Canticle of the Creatures?”
-But, above all, have you never felt that it is more to that divine
-Goddess Scientia, whom you worship with such noble devotion, than to
-anything else that this appalling difference is due?
-
-And you, O my Middle-class, of whom I am so humble a unit, did it
-ever occur to you that it is rather a foolish thing to paint a boy’s
-face black and then be shocked at it? If the People, its foulness and
-its ferocity, makes you shiver and shudder, who pray made it foul and
-fierce but you who govern it?—What do you say? “It was no business of
-yours?” That was what Cain said, but respectable Christians like you
-are not surely going to take that eminent casuist as your mouth-piece?
-If you were Atheists or Agnostics, now, worshippers of “the struggle
-for existence and survival of the fittest,” of course that would be
-another matter, but you are Christians, respectable Christians who
-always wear black coats on Sundays, and object to having the Library and
-Picture-Gallery open.
-
-Well, there! I cannot make myself angry with you, my dear Middle-class.
-I admire your good qualities too much for that—too much indeed, as I
-often tell myself; for who shall say but that my belief in your ultimate
-regeneration and new birth unto a really glorious place in a true
-civilization be not, after all, but infatuation? Here is Carlyle, whom
-we all love and admire so, trying to be our benefactor by demonstrating
-to us our illusions on this matter, and telling us, ever since 1830, of
-the “steady approach of democracy with revolution (probably explosive)
-and a finis incomputable to man; steady decay of all morality, political,
-social, individual; this once noble England getting more and more
-ignoble, and untrue in every fibre of it, till the gold (Goethe’s
-composite king) will all be eaten out, and noble England will have to
-collapse in shapeless ruin, whether for ever or not none of us can
-know.” Really there are hours when I am made quite to suffer by thinking
-of what is going to happen to my dear Middle-class when the People rise
-unanimously against it,—“roaring million-headed unreflecting, darkly
-suffering, darkly sinning ‘Demos’” (as Carlyle says again), “come to call
-its old superiors to account at its maddest of tribunals.” It will, I
-fear, be little good for the Mr. Caffyns of those times to write letters
-to the _Argus_ of those times, explaining the physiological aspects of
-the movement. On such an occasion in Paris, in 1793, Mr. Caffyns went up
-into the arms of La Guillotine for much less heinous offences than that,
-and who would be left capable of recording whether, in this case, they
-went up “with a tripping movement” (as Mr. Caffyn tells us the fanatical
-“Hallelujah lasses” go), or whether they marched, as perhaps Mr. Caffyn
-himself marches to church or chapel every Sunday morning, to the
-edification of all beholders? But let us not think of such an appalling
-spectacle. Mr. Caffyn is still with us, and the _Argus_ is still with us,
-and perhaps some morning we shall have some more brilliant letters on the
-physiological aspects of Mr. Caffyn’s friends, the hallelujah lasses.
-
-I cannot, I say, make myself angry with you, my dear Middle-class of
-England (and you might plausibly suggest that it would not matter much if
-I did), and how then shall I even frown at this Middle-class of Victoria,
-about whom (if Carlyle is right) I am more infatuate still? Does not
-the People breathe free in Australia? Are we not liberated here from
-that charming “Upper Ten Thousand” which monopolises the best of the bad
-education England has to offer, the Public Schools and the Universities?
-Is there not a hope that, now that the primary education of the People is
-progressing so satisfactorily, some of our young rising politicians, (or
-even some of the old ones), may bring home to us the fact that we want
-equally—nay, far more!—a secondary education for the Middle-class? so
-that Victoria may step forward as a competitor with the most universally
-civilized nation in the world, France, and teach England the unspeakable
-glory and advantage of (we should call it) an Upper-class, “homogeneous,
-intelligent, civilized, brought up in good public schools” (and not,
-as now, in more or less good, or more or less bad, denominational, and
-“private adventure” schools) “and on the first plane.”
-
-If only this Upper-class of Victoria and of Australia generally could be
-brought to see it! If only it would confess its sins, many and heinous,
-against true civilization and be “converted” and lead a new life!
-Nothing, I think, strikes an Englishman more, coming out here, than the
-brightness and intelligence of the Victorian girls! (“Our daughters,” you
-know.) And how heart-rending to discover that all this brightness and
-intelligence is wasted on the mere accidents and incidents of every-day
-existence! Two-shilling novels are her idea of literature: “Some day” and
-“Ehren on the Rhine” her idea of music: the coloured illustrations of the
-illustrated papers, her idea of art. And her brother is in a worse state!
-The tortoise English girl is, after all, better than the Australian hare,
-and the young male bull-dog than the kangaroo.
-
-Everything cries out for the education, for the civilization, of the
-Upper-class, the ruling class. Educate it, civilize it, let it know what
-Truth is and what Beauty is, and abolish the bells and the brass-bands
-for ever! If the Upper-class is beautiful, its beauty will react on
-the Lower-class. Give us public schools for the Upper-class, as there
-are public schools for the Lower-class. Fight tooth and nail against
-any attempts after an “Upper Ten Thousand,” whether it be of land or
-of wealth. Keep clearly before us the ideal of an Upper-class that
-is _homogeneous_. Let us have the man of business as cultured as the
-professional man, and the professional man as cultured as the man of
-means. Let us be a true Republic, offering every opportunity to the
-intelligence of the Lower-class to attain to the culture of the Upper.
-Let us not have ten thousand aristocrats, but ten hundred thousand,
-ever more and more, and never less and less! On the other hand, let us
-learn from the People the great lesson which they have to teach us—the
-lesson of the language of the heart. Let us learn from them the softness
-of pity, yea and the richness of love. Let us give them our _Social
-Socialism_ and let us take their _Religious_; for, in the perfect
-marriage of light and heat, is the perfect day, the true civilization,
-the beauty of the truth of Nature and of God.
-
- _February, 1885._
-
-
-
-
-SYDNEY AND HER CIVILIZATION, AS THEY STRIKE AN ENGLISHMAN.
-
-
-It was in 1770 that Cook entered the bay to which he gave the name of
-Botany: in ’88 that Philip landed in Port Jackson with his convict
-settlement: in 1849 that the settlers refused to receive any more
-convicts: and in ’56 that the settlement was acknowledged as a colony
-and dowered with a constitution. These few facts have a very different
-significance to those which correspond to them in the history of
-Melbourne. The epithet phenomenal cannot be applied to the former in the
-same sense as to the latter; nor yet, let us hasten to add, the epithet
-premature. English people, who carry to a quite quaint degree their
-modern representative poet’s dislike of
-
- “Raw Haste, half-sister to Delay,”
-
-find Melbourne “too American,” as they say, and reserve all their praise
-for “picturesque Sydney” and the harbour about whose description Mr.
-Trollope went (as we are all never likely to be able, at any rate in
-Sydney, to forget) into diffuse despair. “The business thoroughfares,”
-says a simple English traveller, “as well as the shops themselves, have a
-far more English appearance than those of the capital of Victoria,” and
-shuns all comment as superfluous. Let us not think of contradicting him.
-That elemental characteristic of the British architect, “the impotence
-to express anything,” is in no danger of disappearing in Sydney, nor
-yet, let us again hasten to add, in Melbourne; but, if it be possible to
-distinguish the matter thus, I should say that in Sydney he had found his
-happy hunting-grounds, whereas in Melbourne he was just beginning to feel
-that there was a rival about.
-
-No, it is just where Sydney is _un_-English that she has charm. I do
-not now refer to her natural position, nor to her age—age which will
-tone down, and perhaps some day almost mellow, the masterpieces of even
-the British architect. I refer to those buildings in the town, few and
-far between enough, it is true, in which the Sydney perception of its
-individual life has striven to express itself. The Sydney perception of
-its individual life is not strong. As a local guide-book puts it more
-particularly, “in the nomenclature of the streets Sydney shows intense
-loyalty, and the lover of history will be delighted by the associations
-which some of the names will summon to his memory. For instance, his
-historical predilections will be gratified in noticing that the principal
-street is named after George the Third, during whose reign the colony
-was founded.” Of course, when the local guide-book tells us that a thing
-is so, it _is_ so; and when it says that our predilections, historical
-or otherwise, will be gratified and delighted, they _are_ gratified and
-delighted. But these Sydney men and women, with their intense loyalty,
-or rather what the writer in the local guide-books means thereby, have
-not, what we called, the metropolitan look—have not the metropolitan
-feeling. Mr. Marcus Clarke, in the cleverest and also the most fantastic
-of his clever but often fantastic criticisms, “The Future Australian
-Race,” says boldly: “It is more than likely that what should be the
-Australian Empire will be cut in half by a line drawn through the centre
-of the continent.... All beneath this line will be a Republic, having
-the mean climate, and, in consequence, the development of Greece. The
-intellectual capital of the Republic will be in Victoria; the fashionable
-and luxurious capital on the shore of Sydney Harbour.” Then he adds that
-“the Australians will be a fretful, clever, perverse, irritable race,”
-showing us what, under all their superficial differences, the people of
-Victoria and of New South Wales have, he thinks, in common. I do not
-believe that the whole secret of the matter is here laid open before us.
-Mr. Marcus Clarke had an admirable acuteness of perception, but he was
-apt, having swiftly perceived one aspect of a thing, to write it down
-at once as _the_ aspect without staying for a second or third look at
-the thing itself. The consequence is that he rarely reaches the whole
-secret of a thing: witness, for instance, his view of Christianity,
-(but Mr. Arnold notices how even a critic of Sainte-Beuve’s calibre was
-capable of illusion here), or of the significance of Gordon’s poetry,
-which I have spoken of elsewhere; and it is lamentable to think how much
-of this false tendency in him was due to the circumstance that he was a
-man of letters, and an Australian man of letters. I do not believe, I
-say, that, when he tells us that the really distinctive characteristic
-of Sydney is (for “will be” is only “is” unmaterialized) fashion and
-luxury, and Melbourne intellect, he has laid open before us the _whole_
-secret of the present tendencies of these cities, or yet when he sees
-them united with the common characteristics of fretfulness, cleverness,
-perverseness, irritability. But here, undoubtedly, is one aspect of the
-matter expressed admirably. The men and women of Sydney do not live so
-fast mentally as the men and women of Melbourne: they give more free play
-to their emotional passions. As we say, they “take things easier.” They
-cling to the past which Melbourne throws away: they consider the present,
-which Melbourne has very little time for. Their attachment to “the old
-country” is deeper; they have intense loyalty, as the writer in the local
-guide-book says. They are much more possessed by the affairs of Melbourne
-than Melbourne is about theirs. The _Sydney Morning Herald_ and the
-_Sydney Mail_ do not hold the same position in Melbourne as the _Argus_
-and the _Australasian_ do in Sydney. The Sydney people are captious in
-their criticism on the younger capital, just as Boston is on New York:
-they talk about being “dragged at the chariot wheels of Victoria,” and
-asseverate that they will not endure it. Melbourne people criticise
-Sydney good-humouredly, and justly so, since in that aspect of them both,
-which people seem to think is alone worth criticising, Melbourne is
-undoubtedly far superior. Intellect in the modern world is the master:
-emotion is the handmaid. Or, to put it in another way, our best average
-work at present is being done in clear, nervous prose, while poetry is
-praised and left to starve. Science is a better paymaster than Art, and
-nearly all the best average intelligence of the world has turned to the
-rising, and from the setting, sun. And Melbourne, I say, Melbourne with
-her perception of movement, progress, conscious power, has out-stripped
-this Sydney, whose perception of her individual life is so weak that all
-she has to point to are her natural advantages, her age, and the meagre
-fact that her “business thoroughfares, as well as the shops themselves,
-have a far more English appearance than those of the capital of
-Victoria.” And yet, undoubtedly, Sydney has—or so it seems to me—a rich
-and rare possession of her own, and one which is worth as much as that of
-Melbourne, even as emotion is worth as much as intellect, as poetry is
-worth as much as prose. And there are, as we know, good judges who would
-change the “as much” into “more.” I, however, who have no pretentions
-to be a good judge, and am, as an acute English critic of mine so aptly
-put it once, only “Whitman and water:” I must still cling to the belief
-that perfection is to be found, and only to be found, in the _union_ of
-these two qualities—of emotion and intellect, of poetry and prose. Or, as
-I said the other day,[7] true science (which is essentially intellectual)
-and true faith (which is essentially emotional) are to be, as they must
-be, harmonies, eternal harmonies, the “perfect music” and “noble words”
-of truth.
-
-Well now, let us try and find out a little more definitely wherein
-these men and women of Sydney, these who have not the metropolitan
-look, the metropolitan feeling, show themselves, at any rate to the
-disinterested seeker after a really fine civilization, as the equals of
-our intellectual men and women of Melbourne. (“Intellectual,” we are
-agreed, is here used as meaning that spiritual quality which is opposed
-to emotional). First of all, however, let us examine this phrase of ours,
-metropolitan look, metropolitan feeling, for fear it should be nothing
-but a phrase, a mere catchword, and, as such, worthy only the places
-where sawdust is stored.
-
-Nothing is more certain than that our individual lives form, if not our
-faces, the expression of them. Our eyes and all the facial muscles are
-at the command of our natural inherited dispositions as modified by the
-circumstances of our lives. The average man who spends his days in the
-open air in companionship with the inanimate things about him, or in
-the settled intercourse of country life, married or single, will have a
-quite different look, a quite different _tone_, from the man whose days
-are passed in the brisk interchange of words and thoughts of the life
-of the city. And how much will this difference be accentuated by the
-fact that the city is a seat of large and intense ideas, that the very
-air is impregnated with the passionate thoughts, words, and acts of the
-whole civilized world! It is in such men that we find the metropolitan
-look, the metropolitan feeling. Their faces seem stripped of all useless
-flesh like the body of an athlete: their eyes are quick and clear, ready
-servants of the quick clear brain behind them. This is what we call the
-average intelligent man, the labourer of the past, the partner of the
-present, the master of the future! Put this man, however, into a state
-of stress, intellectual or emotional, in his business or in his private
-life, and that fine nervous face of his will become lean and rigid, those
-quick clear eyes hard and naked. And, just as it is the pleasure of
-our civilization to see this man in the first stage, so is it the pain
-thereof to see him, alas too often, in the second. These are the most
-dread spectres that haunt metropolises: their anguish wrings the heart
-with an intensity, with an abidingness that the sight of mere misery
-brutal and degraded does not and cannot inspire us. London and New York
-swarm with such, and our miniature Australian intellectual capital, too,
-knows them only too well. They press the stamp of their struggle into the
-very brow of their city. It is they who bring home to us the lean and
-rigid, the hard and naked side of the best life of their city. While it
-is to their successful brothers that we owe what of us is phenomenal, it
-is to them, the unsuccessful, that we owe what of us is premature. They
-are the men who have formulated that exceeding bitter cry of “_Cruel
-London_.” Yes, London is cruel in this sense of the word, and so, to
-a less degree (In a hundred years shall we be able to say this?) is
-Melbourne. I do not think anyone would call Sydney cruel.
-
-“Well,” retorts the metropolitan, “perhaps not; but, on the other hand,
-the provincial look, the dull look of intellectual death, is far more
-common with such towns than with us. For me, I would sooner have heaven
-with hell than purgatory by itself.—Pah,” he says, “Sydney is the city of
-smells and shopkeepers!” And I for my part, with all my admiration for
-the intellect of the average intelligent metropolitan in general and the
-Melbourne metropolitan in particular, should not think of contradicting
-him here. My only wish here is, as I have said, to find out wherein
-these people whom he calls, with such fine scorn, “provincials” and
-“shopkeepers,” show themselves his equals, and whether they _do_ show
-themselves his equals, or that I shall stand convicted of a delusion on
-the subject.
-
-I believe much in first impressions (good ones, that is) provided only
-that we bring, what I have called, a second and third look to bear on
-the thing which has impressed us. And since I am graceless enough to
-speak of my own little private beliefs, let me add that I often find
-some difficulty in making my last impressions as good as my first, which
-is provoking to anyone who has a dread and dislike of “impressionists”
-and an attraction and affection towards “students.” Hence I find myself
-quite ready, when in the latter humour, to call my first impressions
-shallow and careless, and when in the former, to call my last impressions
-dead-dark and pedantic, so that Mr. Marcus Clarke delights me not nor
-(some laborious scholar of the Australasian future) neither, and all
-is vanity and vexation of spirit! Let me, however, on this occasion
-retail my first impressions with a trustful pen, for, as they were
-unselfconscious and therefore unconnected with any theory on the subject
-in hand, I believe they are really the best offering I have to make on
-its altar.
-
-The first thing, then, that struck me on walking about Sydney one
-afternoon, looking at the place and the people, was the appalling
-strength of the British civilization. In Melbourne, for reasons spoken
-of elsewhere, this fact is not so striking. Melbourne, I have said, has
-something of London, Paris, New York, and of its own. The prevailing
-characteristic of Sydney is its Britishness—the happy hunting grounds
-of the British architect with his “impotence to express anything,” the
-intense and gratifying and delightful loyalty of the nomenclature of the
-streets, and the rest. Everywhere are the thumb marks and the great toe
-marks of the six-fingered six-toed giant, Mr. Arnold’s life-long foe, the
-British Philistine! I call this strength appalling; for observe that this
-is a country lying in a band of some five or six degrees south of the
-tropic of Capricorn, whereas England is a country lying in a band of some
-twenty-five or six degrees north of the corresponding tropic of Cancer,
-and yet here are the two peoples living lives almost identic! Rome
-changed her Jupiter into Ammon when the Tiber flowed into the Nile: Woden
-and the God of the Christians blended into one another; but the Jehovah
-(or shall we say the Moloch?) of Puritanism, of Calvinism, is the same
-in Sydney as in London, in Melbourne as in Edinburgh! There is nothing
-like it, save in the history of that wonderful people which produced this
-God that is “a jealous God.” And further. These people in Sydney have
-clung, not only to the faith but to the very raiment of their giant. The
-same gloomy dresses, cumbrous on the women, hideous on the men, that we
-see in England! Now in Melbourne, where those dear “old-country” days,
-wherein spring, summer, autumn, and winter alternate with a fifth
-season excruciatingly peculiar to the place itself, are not infrequent;
-in Melbourne, I say, an attachment to the very tricks of one of the
-worst climates in the world might not be so unnatural; but in Sydney
-such an attachment becomes positively monstrous. The same food, the same
-overeating and overdrinking, and (observe how careful we are) at the same
-hours! If there is one thing, I believe, that the people of Sydney really
-grudge to Melbourne, it is her factories. If they could only make the
-atmosphere of Sydney (they do their best, however, with their steamers
-for the harbour) as supremely filthy as that of London, Birmingham,
-Manchester, Glasgow, the people, the intensely loyal people of Sydney,
-would be happy. As it is, they have reluctantly to concede a point in
-favour of, what the newspapers call, “her younger rival.” And yet how can
-I say this in the face of their eminently successful pollution of their
-harbour and their very streets with their drainage?
-
-It is no wonder, then, we see, that, unlike Melbourne, Sydney’s
-perception of her individual life is weak, miserably weak, all but
-imperceptible. She has to point to her natural advantages and her age.
-Now it is very nice to have a fine harbour, and Mr. Trollope is in his
-grave and we may safely say that he had a profuse literary talent, like
-many writers who lived before and many who will live after him; but the
-chief point of interest in the harbour, at any rate to your disinterested
-enquirer into the present and future social state of the owners, is,
-_what effect does it, and the climate generally, have upon them?_ not
-whether Mr. Trollope or anyone else “despairs of being able to convey to
-any reader his own idea of the beauty” of either. Now we all know what
-effect the “sabbath rest” has on the Middle class and People of England,
-and we all know how zealously all those “pious and simple-minded” people
-who, as Dr. Moorhouse puts it so well, live “entrenched in the old
-fortifications of unintelligent orthodoxy,” are striving that that effect
-should not be in any way lessened—striving, not only in London but in
-Melbourne, and, so far, with considerable success in both. But here in
-Sydney, where, at first sight, one would least expect it, they are more
-liberal in these matters: their public institutions, Museums, Picture
-Gallery, and so on, are thrown open to the public on sundays.[8] No
-neighbouring town, so far as I know, partakes in the virtuous hatred of
-Geelong to sunday boats. The harbour is plied by a large number of small
-steamboats. The Middle-class and the People, thanks to the short hours
-of work (hence in large part Australia’s excellence in sports) and the
-saturday half-holiday, can disport themselves on its banks or where they
-please. “Our harbour,” then, and _our parks_ too, are of more real use
-than merely, as they say, to blow about; and so far, so good. Pleasure,
-that light fair Pleasure which should find its natural home in every fine
-climate, is undoubtedly drawing breath in the Sydney air. Mr. Marcus
-Clarke’s acuteness of perception did not deceive him when he followed up
-this pallid plant into the full-grown tree with its flower and fruit of
-fashion and luxury. Yes, climate will ultimately work a transformation
-upon even the six-fingered six-toed giant. Moloch’s fire will cease to
-burn and brand: Jehovah’s jealousy will lose its harshness, and the sweet
-bright love of the White Christ will brood over and temper the hearts
-of this people to beauty and melody. Meantime, down there in Melbourne,
-Pleasure when it opens its mouth to breathe, will also open it to bite:
-the taint of cruelty will be upon it as it is upon all things purely
-intellectual, all things in which emotion has no part. “Melbourne,” the
-wise man of Sydney will say then, “Melbourne is the city of stew-pans
-and stockbrokers. They know how to make money, but not how to spend it.
-If they have pleasure, it borders on pain as lust does on love. All the
-beauty they know is the beauty of light; heat is a stranger to them.
-Their music lacks the minor keys. Years ago their one poet, Gordon, ran
-away from the city, and took refuge in the bush: if he were alive now, he
-would come to Sydney. No poet, no painter, no musician will be brought
-forth out of Melbourne.—You will make fine logicians, you Melbournians,
-and it does a man’s heart good to think of your cog-wheels; but believe
-me that you know no more of life than that it is an existence, or
-of death than that it is the stopping of a mouse-wheel.” Thus our
-problematical “provincial,” returning fine pity for the fine scorn of our
-problematical “metropolitan.” Or, to drop the symbolism, thus my first
-impressions of the actual or inherent melody and beauty of the Sydney
-life, as evolved from my last impressions of the leanness and rigidness,
-the hardness and nakedness that is to be found so easily in life in
-Melbourne.
-
-More than once that afternoon did this melody of beauty come back to me
-wandering, like a sweet far-off chime. It is years since I heard that
-chime, the chime of Pleasure light and fair, breathing around me—years
-ago, in its imperial haunt of Paris. Other chimes have their several
-melodies and beauties, melodies and beauties perhaps above compare with
-this one, but this one is pre-eminent for sweetness, and sweetness is a
-rich and rare offering to the soul. The afternoon was not a fine one, and
-I had just been spending two months in peerless weather by the Riverina.
-I had, then, no meteorological “pathetic fallacy,” as Mr. Ruskin says,
-to help me to a thoughtless faith in the actual or inherent melody of
-Sydney. On the contrary, the rain rained, and the wind blew, and the
-bursts of sunshine were few and far between, so that the Genius of the
-place had to speak out if he wished to be heard. And, as we have noticed,
-he did speak out, and was heard, and was, and is, approved of.
-
-Pass now from the outer public world into the inner: pass from
-the parks and streets into the Picture Gallery, and think of a
-similar passage in Melbourne. It is quite useless to murmur here,
-“_Melbourne_—_movement_—_progress_—_conscious power_;” the words only
-pass into a dry tuneless jingle, like Gordon at his worst, wherein
-nothing can be heard but, “_Leanness and rigidness_—_hardness and
-nakedness_.” We see the throng of the virtuous wives of the Bourke Street
-tradespeople and of “our wealthy lower orders” moving about in that badly
-constructed room, with its badly chosen and badly hung pictures. We think
-of the low, low ebb at which the intellect of the metropolis has left
-its sense of melody and beauty. We wonder what Adelaide Ironsides, whom
-Mr. Brunton Stephens has told us of in some charming verses,[9] would
-have made of that people, of that city, whose capacity to foster poetic
-instinct was “gauged” with such grimness by Mr. Clarke.[10] And then
-we turn to this room, this people, and this city, and the fatuity of
-their intense loyalty seems a venial offence beside the arid barrenness
-of their intellectual neighbours. Such a construction (and, alas, not a
-merely temporary but a quite everlasting one) as the Melbourne Picture
-and Sculpture Galleries, such a choice, such an arrangement of pictures
-and statues, would not satisfy these men and women of Sydney, as it
-does the virtuous wives of the Bourke Street tradespeople and of “our
-wealthy lower orders.” I do not say that the _Morning Herald_ would
-burst out into correspondence on the subject, nor yet that that company
-of eminent men who legislate for an ungrateful country would speak with
-scorn or pity of these things. The chime of melody and beauty here is,
-if sweet, far off. Pleasure light and fair is as yet but drawing breath.
-The outer public life and the inner are but feeling their way to a
-perception of an individuality, to an individuality that seeks after
-that form of happiness whose chief expression is in melody and beauty.
-But in Melbourne there is nothing, or scarcely anything, of this. If
-no one would think of calling Sydney cruel, neither would anyone think
-of calling Melbourne sweet. The average intelligent man in Melbourne
-worships at the master-shrine alone: Intellect is his god, Intellect with
-its speech of clear nervous prose and its poetry of vigorous, if rather
-meretricious metres and “galloping rymes.” He has no, or very little,
-care for Art as Art: that is an affair for women, and, as the only
-organised female public opinion is that of the virtuous tradeswoman and
-the wife of the wealthy lower orders, spiritual leanness and rigidness,
-hardness and nakedness are the popular product of the day.
-
-Now there is, I will venture to say, not one social phenomenon, good or
-evil, in Victoria and New South Wales that cannot be traced to these
-their spiritual conditions which I have been trying to express. Let us
-take, what I have called, the three vital questions of the day—Free
-Trade—Federalism—Higher Education. New South Wales is in favour of Free
-Trade. Her perception of her individual life is weak: she clings to the
-past, she considers the present. Whereas Victoria—Victoria with her swarm
-of intelligent labourers and men of business—strong in her reliance on
-her intellect, resolutely turns to the future from which she thinks she
-will be able to carve out all her desires. Like America, she wants no
-help from without, she will brook no interference. She will not let her
-mineral products lie idle as New South Wales does. She is impatient of
-the true British characteristic, the slow patient evolution of things, the
-
- “broadening down
- From precedent to precedent.”
-
-She believes in the modern scientific spirit, and in none other. “Let
-us, then,” she says, in her heart, “let us, then, by all means, move
-towards Federalism. Union is strength.” But the eager grasping nature of
-her swarm of intelligent labourers will not let her see that the wisdom
-of her penny tariffs is but the foolishness of the pounds to come. New
-South Wales, on the other hand, is adverse to Federalism. She does not
-understand this modern scientific spirit—she dreads it, is jealous of it,
-and admires it! It is so self-reliant, so self-confident! And she, poor
-thing, is too much under the sway of the ancient historical spirit to
-perceive that there is also a modern historical spirit, and that it is
-good and at her doors. Hence her changeableness, hence her irresolution
-in the matter. Like her clever unscrupulous politician, Sir Henry Parkes,
-yesterday she wanted Federalism, to-day she does not: she will not be
-dragged at the chariot wheels of this dreadful modern scientific spirit
-which she does not understand, with Victoria shouting and cracking a
-stockwhip to urge on the horses faster and faster. Is she not the “Queen
-of the Pacific?” did not Governor Philip tell her she would be “the
-centre of the southern hemisphere—the brightest gem of the Southern
-Ocean?” and who shall say he counted her chickens before they were
-hatched?
-
-To the disinterested seeker, then, after a really fine civilization,
-it is hard to say which is the more painful sight—Victoria, with her
-resolute pursuit of a purely intellectual future, which must end in
-arid barrenness, or New South Wales with her fatuous attachment to
-the monstrous aspect of the past and present. Which, after all, is the
-better or the worse, illusion or delusion? Is Victoria never going to
-perceive that logicians and engineers are not the highest product of
-civilization? Will New South Wales never shake off the British architect,
-spiritual and material, and begin to evolve an individual life of her
-own? Is Mr. Marcus Clarke right when he tells us that “in another hundred
-years the average Australasian will be a tall, coarse, strong-jawed,
-greedy, pushing, talented man, excelling in swimming and horsemanship.
-His religion will be a form of Presbyterianism, his national policy a
-democracy tempered by the rate of exchange. His wife will be a thin,
-narrow woman, very fond of dress and idleness, caring little for her
-children, but without sufficient brain-power to sin with zest.” Yes, this
-is indeed the future of the two tendencies, which are represented by
-the illuded progress of Victorian, the deluded stagnation of New South
-Wales. “_The virtuous tradeswoman and the wife of the wealthy lower
-orders, walking in the happy hunting-grounds of the British architect!_”
-What a picture! It is a satisfaction to think that, if it is to be, we
-shall never live to see it. But the question arises, “Is _it to be_?”
-Has not this acute perceiver of ours been once more writing down one
-aspect of the thing as _the_ aspect, without staying for a second or
-third look at the thing itself? is not this a clever view of a part,
-but a fantastic view of the whole? has not Mr. Clarke, in a word, been
-leaving us this appalling picture of our future in much the same spirit
-as the world-wounded Hamlet left his cruel dowry to Ophelia? This, we
-are agreed, was indeed the future of the two tendencies, which are
-represented by the illuded progress of Victoria, the deluded stagnation
-of New South Wales; but we should add—_only if they are left to
-themselves_.
-
-_Only if they are left to themselves_; and it is our hope, our trust that
-they will not be. We hope, we believe, that these two countries will
-learn from one another, each the lesson which the other will be competent
-to teach: that Victoria will awake to the vital importance of giving her
-Upper Class a Higher Education to correspond to the Elementary Education
-that she is giving her Lower Class, and that this Higher Education may
-be one filled with what we have called the modern historical spirit,
-with culture, with literary Culture: that New South Wales, leading and
-instructing Victoria here, having first learned from her example to
-have the courage to evolve an individual life of her own, will in her
-turn imbibe the modern scientific spirit, will imbibe what I may call
-scientific Culture; and thus we shall be brought on to the day in which
-the people of Victoria and New South Wales shall, from their superficial
-differences, be united by common qualities better than those of
-fretfulness, cleverness, perverseness, irritability: For in this people
-lies the possibility of a really fine civilization, in the marriage in
-them of emotion and intellect, of poetry and prose.
-
- “Is the goal so far away?
- Far, how far no tongue can say.
- _Let us dream our dream to-day._”
-
-One last word on the last of the three vital questions of the day—Higher
-Education. When, on 1st April, Mr. Patterson, who presides over the
-Victorian Education Department, went down to Malmsbury to lay a
-foundation-stone for the Wesleyan denomination, and favoured us with
-his views on this question, or rather on the education system as it
-at present stands in Victoria, we had a hope (a faint hope) that he
-would do something more than sing the praises of the denominational
-schools in general, and the state schools (“those majestic monuments to
-enlightenment,” as he says in his profuse political way, “that adorn
-and bless even the remotest portions of this colony”)—the state schools
-in particular. Our hope was destined to disappointment. Mr. Patterson
-had something to say about “the only legitimate checks on the abuse
-of political power when conferred upon the masses,” and about “the
-unscrupulousness, as well as the boldness beyond reason” of that man who
-“would deny that the rising Australians, for sobriety and unassuming
-intelligence, would compare favourably with the old stock,” so that he
-“was bound to record his conviction that the future of Australia would
-be quite safe in the hands of the Australians.” He had also ready a
-defence of the secular character of the teaching in the state schools,
-and some nice little left-handed compliments for our good Wesleyans, _et
-hoc genus omne_, but not a word, and apparently not a thought, for the
-legitimate checks on “the abuses of _educational_ power when conferred”
-on a middle-class as unprepared for rule as the worst education in the
-world can make it. “The Australian public,” he says, “desires, above
-all things, to ensure good citizenship.” The Australian public cares
-little that, in the state schools which it has founded for that especial
-purpose, dead dry intellectual knowledge is rampant—“that asinine feast
-of sow-thistles and brambles,” as Milton disgustedly puts it, “which is
-commonly set before our youth as all the food and entertainment of their
-tenderest and most docile age”—“inanimate mechanical gerund-grinding,”
-as Carlyle equally disgustedly called it—gerund-grinding and spiritual
-cockatoo screeching. Nor yet does it care that, in the denominational
-schools in which its own children are being brought up, the only
-supplement to the dead dry educational knowledge of the gerund and the
-cockatoo, is the merest flimsy smattering of Science caricatured and
-Literature misunderstood. Let us not, however, despair because our
-sucking colonial statesmen cannot see more than a few educational inches
-in front of their noses. Have we not got Dr. Moorhouse, our good Bishop
-of Melbourne, with us, “a mighty man with broad and sinewy hands?” And
-does he not, on every available opportunity, batter against the brazen
-walls of the gerund and the cockatoo, and bid them leave off grinding
-and screeching, and listen to reason? And here, too, is our good Roman
-Catholic Bishop of Sydney, Dr. Moran (whom we are all so sorry to think
-of losing), expressing his “fears that the atmosphere of the public
-schools is too chilly for a great many of our youth?” Perhaps one of
-these mornings the Victorian public will wake up, tired of listening to
-the chatter of the religious and secular dogmatists gathered together
-like eagles over the carcase of “Religion without Superstition,” and
-there may arise a curiosity and a care for Higher Education and High
-Schools; and we will hope, then, that no one will be foolish enough to
-say that they have been a very doubtful success in New South Wales and in
-Sydney—in Sydney, the home-elect of the six-fingered and six-toed giant
-of British Philistinism! And, perhaps, some day poor little Culture,
-putting off the cumbrous armour with which the gerund and the cockatoo
-want to load him, taking his sling in his hand and a few smooth stones
-from the brook, may smite great Goliath in the forehead, and cut off his
-head, and there be a signal rout of all the Philistines, even unto Gath
-and Gaza and the utmost borders of the land.
-
- _May, 1885._
-
-[NOTE.—I am tempted to republish here a letter, which I sent lately
-to the _Sydney Morning Herald_ wherein one aspect of the secondary
-education question was (more or less unconsciously) being discussed.
-No one, so far as I am aware, thought the letter worth serious
-consideration: at any rate no one thought it worth replying to, perhaps
-the reasons for its insertion were simply those which the “able Editor”
-assigned to me for the insertion of all his correspondence, namely that
-it be not either too illiterate or too offensive for publication. Well,
-I am sure that for my own part I am grateful for even so much toleration
-as this, and shall strive, as becomes my humble position in this great
-Australian press, to continue to deserve it.]
-
- A RUGBY FOR NEW SOUTH WALES.
-
- (_To the Editor of the Herald._)
-
- SIR,—In your issue of Saturday, May 9th, Mr. Edwin Bean, of All
- Saints’ College, Bathurst, brought under serious consideration
- the suggestion made by your correspondent “A. N.,” as regards
- what he called “A Rugby for New South Wales.” Anything that
- a schoolmaster of Mr. Bean’s talent and experience has to
- say must be interesting to those of us (alas, too few!) to
- whom the question of secondary education, whether in England
- or Australia, is a care. He will understand, then, that when
- I pass over, almost without notice, his criticisms on the
- individual aspects of the “reproduction” here “of that which is
- certainly best,” as he says, “in the English Public schools,
- viz., what is called the Public school spirit”—that the only
- reason of my doing so is the fear of encroaching too much on
- your “valuable space.” For, interesting as these criticisms
- are, the interest which lies in what I take to be the two
- real points at question here is, I must think, greater: these
- two points being (_1_), _the growing sense in all competent
- judges of discontent with the present condition of middle-class
- secondary education in Australia_; (_2_), _the means of
- ameliorating this condition_.
-
- As regards the first point, I must here almost take it for
- granted, in the face of the fact that, so far as I am aware,
- there is not a single colonial politician who seems to realise
- that if the education of the People, the rulers of the future,
- is of vital importance to us all, the education of the Middle-,
- or, as we should say now, the Upper-class, the rulers of the
- present, is of importance at least quite as vital. The mass
- of intelligent men here, then, or, as we are wont to say, the
- intelligent public, naturally enough, holds the same opinion
- about upper-class secondary education that their political
- representatives do. “It is all right,” they say. “What are you
- grumbling at in these ‘private adventure schools,’ as you
- call them? They do well enough, we think, for us upper-class
- people; and if you want your son to have a really first-rate
- education, why, are there not plenty of fine Denominational
- schools about—the King’s School, Newington, and so on, and our
- splendid Grammar-school?” The only answer to “prophesyings” of
- this sort is, that the Upper-class, as a class, are, whatever
- they may think themselves, simply abominably educated; their
- education is, even when judged by its own miserable standard,
- superficial, incoherent, impalpable; and the sole necessary
- proof of this is, that a good three-quarters of the knowledge
- acquired by an average boy at an average private adventure
- school is of no subsequent use whatever to him, either in the
- culture of himself or in the prosecution of his business or
- trade. As for the best Denominational schools where a secondary
- education is to be obtained, if inadequate, at any rate much
- superior to that of the private adventure schools, these are
- out of the reach of the pockets of the average upper-class
- people, who, even if they appreciate this misfortune (which, as
- a rule, they do not), are unable to remedy it.
-
- Here, then, as it seems to me, lies the difficulty; and we
- have now to look at the solution which the apparent tendency
- of things is proffering to us. “If ‘A. N.,’” says Mr. Bean,
- “had resided in Victoria, he would have learnt that the Public
- schools (as they are there called) of Geelong and Melbourne
- are already taking something of the position, and aspiring to
- fulfil the functions, of the English public schools.... And,”
- he goes on, “at Paramatta, Stanmore, Bathurst, Bowenfels, and
- elsewhere, there are already boarding-schools, not private, but
- belonging to Denominational corporations, which, if fostered
- by private assistance, will eventually grow into something
- resembling the Public schools of England.” Mr. Bean is, of
- course, right. If things progress in the way in which they
- are now progressing, if our colonial statesmen turn all their
- attention, and as much of ours as we will give them, _to_ the
- education of the People, and _from_ that of the Upper-class,
- then, I say, more and more will the Upper-class be thrown into
- the hands of schools which are mere private speculations,
- which are really under no control but that of personal caprice
- (and the personal caprice, great heavens! of what a stamp of
- intellectual and spiritual man), which, accordingly, provide
- an education, even when judged by its own miserable standard,
- superficial, incoherent, impalpable. And these other schools,
- I say, the best Denominational and Corporation schools, the
- Australian Public schools of the future, will become more and
- more the educational monopoly of the professional and wealthy
- portion of the Upper-class, just as in England they have become
- that of the aristocracy and these portions of the Middle-class.
- These “_great schools_,” exclaims Mr. Bean justly of the
- English Public schools—“_which have done so much to form the
- character of the English gentleman_.” Of the English gentleman?
- Yes, and alas! of the English middle-class man, that terrible
- and pathetic being whom Mr. Arnold has taught us to know as
- the British Philistine. “I declare,” says General Gordon, the
- hero-elect of this very class, “I declare I think there is more
- happiness among these miserable (Soudan) blacks, who have not a
- meal from day to day, than among our middle-classes. The blacks
- are glad of a little handful of maize, and live in the greatest
- discomfort. They have not a strip to cover them; but you do not
- see them grunting and groaning all day long as we see scores
- and scores in England, with their wretched dinner-parties and
- attempts at gaiety where all is hollow and miserable.”
-
- What a future for the Upper-class, the by far largest class
- of Australia! What an appalling solution to an educational
- difficulty is this:—_A small class made up of our squatters,
- professional men, and wealthy tradesmen, forming a sort of
- intellectual and spiritual aristocracy; our Upper-class not
- only itself intellectually and spiritually dull and debased,
- but debasing and dulling all the better spirits which, in
- their social ascension, pass into it from the ranks of the
- People._ The thought of such a future to those of us to whom
- the progress onward and upward, whether of England or of
- Australia, is a care, is appalling, heartrending, unendurable!
- There is nothing that we could do, by the devotion of our
- powers, energies, and means, that we should not, would not,
- do to prevent it. And we should be, and are, encouraged in
- our struggle against it by the reflection that the real deep
- true spirit of the time is against all monopoly, practical and
- physical, intellectual and spiritual—that once the Upper-class,
- and after them the People, is aroused to the realisation of
- the fact that there is a danger here of the formation of a new
- aristocracy, an aristocracy which, with all its charm (let us
- suppose) of social manners and of intellectual and spiritual
- culture (and this is supposing a very great deal), means
- nothing less than the materialisation, the dulling and the
- debasing, of everything beneath it—when the Upper-class and the
- People, I say, are aroused to the realisation of this, we may
- be sure that they will not rest till they have prevented it.
-
- And how, it is asked, is such a future to be prevented? how
- such a present to be ameliorated? By the formation, not of
- Denominational and Corporation schools at a charge which places
- them out of the reach of all save the richer among us, but by
- the formation of Public State schools that provide a secondary
- education as good, and, we will hope, better, than that of
- these others, and at a charge that is within the reach of the
- average upper-class people. “Yes, but,” at once is answered,
- “such schools already exist in the High schools, and they have
- not been a success.” I will not here contest, although I well
- might, the first assertion; but I cannot, if I would, contest
- the second. I began by noticing the cause of it, this general
- satisfaction of “the intelligent public” with the educational
- pabulum provided for its offspring. I deplore it; I hope for
- the day of its removal to the gulf of oblivion. In the meantime
- all that can be done is to strive to assist this “consummation
- devoutly to be desired” earnestly and perpetually.
-
- One word more. No one is more in sympathy (if I may be pardoned
- for speaking of such an unimportant entity) than _I_ am, with
- the efforts of such men as “A. N.” and Mr. Edwin Bean to
- reproduce, or try to reproduce, in Australia as far as may be,
- “that which is certainly best in the English Public schools,
- viz., what is called the Public school spirit.” I have not the
- least prejudice against English Public schools, at one of the
- oldest and most conservative of which I was myself educated,
- and from which I almost entirely derived the circle of my
- most valued friends; nor yet against the Denominational and
- Corporation schools here. I have only to remark to Mr. Bean,
- what I am sure he will at once admit, that if the danger of
- State schools is the excessive interference of the State,
- the danger—nay, the absolute abuse—of endowed Public schools
- is that they become mere feeders of the universities; and in
- England to such an appalling extent was this the case that
- the State absolutely had to alter and narrow its Indian Civil
- Service examinations in order to bring them within reach of the
- Public schools, which were being quite left out in the cold!
- Doubtless, then, the Australian endowed Public schools would
- have their danger too, a danger which “even no less a thinker
- than Herbert Spencer,” as Mr. Bean says, has not perhaps, in
- the application to artificial civilization of the laws of the
- natural “struggle for existence and survival of the fittest,”
- quite comprehended.
-
- With all apologies to you for the amount of your “valuable
- space” on which I have encroached in even this far too
- perfunctory consideration of the matter in hand,
-
- I am, etc.,
-
-There is no one whose opinion on this question of secondary education is
-more worthy of our attention than that of Mr. Matthew Arnold. Our debt
-of gratitude to him for the general advancement of the Idea of Culture,
-not only at home, but everywhere where our language is spoken, is so
-great that we have begun to accept it almost as an impersonal fact. The
-work which he did long ago, and has never ceased to recapitulate, for
-the cause of middle-class secondary education, can only be appreciated
-by those whose attention has been turned to it more especially. This,
-I hope, will hold me excused to him for quoting here from a letter of
-his to me, some expressions of his, and the more so as they seem to
-show something like a modification of the view he has so far publicly
-enunciated. “I think,” he says, “I see signs that the education question
-is likely to present itself at no distant date in this wise: ‘Shall
-the majority give public money for any education except the education
-necessary for every citizen?’ The education necessary for every citizen
-will be somewhat extended in scope, but no account will be taken of the
-higher culture hitherto deemed necessary for a leisured and governing
-class, and to which so great a mass of endowment has been made to
-contribute. On the Continent of Europe a great change will be produced
-if this new view prevails, for the endowments have in general been
-seized by the State, and the State has directly subsidised secondary and
-superior instruction. In England it has not, but the endowments which
-these instructions enjoyed have been left to them. Probably they will
-not be taken away, but further public aid will hardly be given. Nor do
-I think it will be given in the Colonies; and as there the endowment of
-secondary and superior instruction is inconsiderable, these instructions
-will be, as they are now, at a great disadvantage. The wealthiest people
-will send their sons to be educated in England; private schools will, of
-course, exist locally, but I do not think they will have influence enough
-to create a class and a power out of those they train. Society will
-thus be, on the whole, much more homogeneous than with the old nations
-of Europe; but, as in the United States, this condition of things will
-have its own dangers and drawbacks. The best way to meet them is for
-individuals to keep up a love of genuine culture in themselves, and so to
-create an even larger force in the nation to favour it.” Of the truth,
-or very probable truth, of the educational future here drawn out, there
-can, alas, be little question. M. Renan, whose work for France can well
-be paralleled with that of Mr. Arnold for us, takes an even gloomier
-view. We may count ourselves lucky, he says, if Democracy will consent,
-not to encourage, but to tolerate independent study. Democracy, he says,
-again, is the advent of universal mediocrity, of that most terrible of
-mediocrities, the aggressive. “Great qualities,” cried Empedocles, facing
-the same problem as we do,
-
- “Great qualities are trodden down,
- and littleness united
- is become invincible.”
-
-If this, then, is to be the case in Europe, what will it be in America,
-and still more in Australia? Aristocracies may not be ideal, but they
-have their use: they establish a certain high tone of social intercourse
-which is certainly valuable as one element in a really fine civilization;
-and, when they have passed away, it still lives as a tacit influence.
-France to-day, for instance, is a republic, but her outward manners,
-despite all that has happened, bear something of the mark of the Grand
-Siècle. England, again, is swinging away with heavy speed from her
-old ideal of Puritanism, and yet, as Mr. Arnold says so well, “the
-seriousness, solemness, and devout energy of Puritanism are a prize once
-won, never to be lost; they are a possession to our race for ever.”
-But America? but Australia? America is not leavened by Puritanism as
-England is, neither has she any hereditary tone of social intercourse
-to be compared with that of England, not to say of France. America must
-settle her own problem for herself, despite all the outer influence which
-is brought to bear on her: two hundred miles out from the Amazon mouth
-the water is still fresh, but it is salt at last. But consider this
-Australia where the Puritanism only began to operate when its sincerity
-was souring into cant, where the tone of social intercourse flourishes
-in the hands of those who attain to it as the imitation of an imitation!
-What can be so disastrous for Australia as the thrusting into power of
-a class of this sort, to be followed by a class which is to the first
-as the first is to its prototype in England? How this future presents
-itself has already been considered here. Mr. Marcus Clarke’s picture
-of it stands like a perpetual nightmare. What hope, then, remains to
-us except in that very “higher culture hitherto deemed necessary for
-a leisured and governing class,” which Mr. Arnold tells us our local
-private schools will not have influence enough to create as “a class and
-a power?” Is the only aristocracy possible to us to be, not a broad one
-like that of Athens, but a narrow one like that of Rome? We all know the
-picture Juvenal has painted of the decadence of this last, and Johnson’s
-application of it to the London of his time is not a memory altogether
-pleasant. “The lustre of a capital,” says M. Renan, with his eye on
-that of his own country, “springs from a vast provincial dung-heap,
-where millions of men lead an obscure life, in order to bring forth some
-brilliant butterflies which come to burn themselves in the light.” And
-if for capital we substitute plutocracy, and for butterflies creatures
-of a nature less savoury, we see something like the sort of future with
-which we are threatened here. Political life at present in Europe can
-scarcely be called noble, but here in Australia it is positively so base
-that there is a danger of its becoming the monopoly of men whose verbose
-incompetence is only equalled by their jovial corruption. The Plutocracy,
-such as it is, is being thrown in upon itself. Its present generation,
-it is true, is content to work—and, indeed, can find its only happiness
-in work; but this will not be so with the next, and still less with
-the third, generation. The desire to enjoy will grow into a lust, and
-this lust will spread. The end of this we know, and there will not lack
-writers to look back upon the present, even as so many of us look forward
-to the future, with a sort of eager envy. Well, and what is to be done to
-prevent this, if it is to be prevented? To cease from trying to obtain a
-secondary education for the Upper-class? to obtain Australian Rugbies,
-not only for the Plutocracy, but for the Upper-class, and for any one of
-the People that has the care to climb up to them and the best education
-which his age and country can afford him? to create a class and power
-that shall, in their turn, create a really fine civilization?—are we to
-cease from all direct struggle for this, and meet the present crisis by
-simply trying “to keep up the love of genuine culture in ourselves, and
-so to create an ever larger force in the nation to favour it?” I cannot
-believe that this is so; I cannot even believe that, good way as it is,
-it is “the best way.” We have all been reading lately what Mr. Arnold had
-to say in favour of this indirect method, this creation of a Remnant that
-should at last become a power, and I am sure I should be the last person
-to say a word against it. All I have to say is, that I have too much
-belief in the power of institutions (a power “the benefits of which,” Mr.
-Arnold has just been telling us, “he had not properly appreciated” before
-his trip to America) to neglect anything that could bring them to the
-side of Culture. I appreciate the indirect method, and I believe that,
-in the long run, it is the method which gives permanent solidity, but I
-cannot blind myself to the immense importance of the direct method. If
-it is necessary to conduct a river into a city, the pipes must first be
-made, and care taken that they are not too small. The French Revolution
-was a violent attempt and a premature one, and yet, such as it was, it
-brought a greater volume of happiness into France than the abortive
-attempt that we made in England. _We_ have still to face the problem of
-the happiness of the few and the debasement of the many, and I cannot see
-that it is an easier problem to resolve than that which is presenting
-itself to the French just at present. I still, then, must continue to
-believe that it is not wise in England, and how much more in America,
-and how much more in Australia, to refrain from the direct struggle for
-a higher education for our Upper-class. Our aim is not for the few but
-for the many, and not for elementary Culture for the many, but for the
-possibilities of a really fine Culture. We have, too, our distrust of
-Remnants. We dread their tendency to take to lotus-eating. They are apt
-to care so little for the propagation of either their species or their
-Culture.
-
- “Let us alone! What pleasure can we have
- to war with evil? Is there any peace
- in ever climbing up the climbing wave?”
-
-It is with difficulty, with great and perpetual difficulty, that a Goethe
-can keep his duty to his art and his duty to his neighbour at the perfect
-poise. It is so hard to keep your duty to yourself from running into your
-duty to your selfishness. Light, and the love of light, and the love
-of bringing light to others, is after all impossible without a certain
-admixture of heat. Let us, then, still continue to nourish our enthusiasm
-for a direct purpose, which shall be the future to that great mass of
-average human beings who are thoughtlessly moulded by whatever they find
-is strong enough to mould them. Let us be jealous of individuals. “_Non
-Angli, sed angeli._”
-
- “_Leave not a human soul_
- _to grow old in darkness and pain!_”
-
- _October, 1885._
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-CULTURE.
-
-
-Everyone nowadays has something to say about Culture. Even the
-politicians have heard of it, and some morning we may read in our
-newspapers that one of them is of opinion that there is some meaning in
-the term. Naturally enough we have all of us for some time been groping
-after the thing itself. The Time-Spirit is like a skilful driver of
-sheep. He may have considerable trouble with his flock, but, thanks
-to his unruffled intelligence and the ceaseless exertions of his dog
-Genius, he brings them all in in time for the market. It is now almost a
-century since the Idea of Culture took definite shape in the mind of a
-single man, and ever since then the number of its followers has kept on
-increasing, until at last everyone, as I remarked, has now something to
-say about it. If, however, one enquires of people, not what they _think_
-of Culture, (For everyone from the Vatican Œcumenical Council[11] to
-the author of “In Memoriam”[12] is agreed as to the advantage of it),
-but what culture _is_, one may go far for a satisfactory answer. Women
-are growing dissatisfied with the sphere of their work. What is it that
-they need? “More breadth of culture,” answers the Prince of Tennyson’s
-Princess readily enough, “more breadth of culture!” And it will be said
-that it is easy to see that what the Prince means is, that women should
-have thrown open to them the education that has so far been the monopoly
-of men. But is this Culture? is this the whole truth about it?—simply the
-giving to the many—to women, to the Middle-class and to the People—what
-is the education of the few? would that man in whose mind the Idea of
-Culture first took definite shape have been satisfied with the sight
-of ubiquitous Harrows and Etons and Grammar Schools of Melbourne and
-Geelong? There can be no doubt but that such a sight would have pleased,
-but it certainly would not have satisfied him. “Schools,” he would
-have said, “are of high importance, but what is taught in them is of
-importance still higher.”
-
-And so we come back again to our question as to what Culture _is_ with a
-sense that the ready answers to it are only half answers. Now everyone
-has heard of Goethe, and everyone has read some of his writings—“Faust,”
-at any rate—and, as it is to Goethe that we owe the Idea of Culture (as
-indeed most things that are really good in the sphere of modern thought),
-it would be best to at once quote his own words on the matter, and see
-if we cannot find a definition, or at any rate a description, of Culture
-that shall satisfy us. Poetry, however, does not exactly lend itself to
-definitions of such things as this, or even to descriptions. In Faust
-himself the idea may be more or less, as they say, incarnated, but we
-plain practical people, who like things put as much in black and white
-as may be, have some difficulty in these matters, and would far rather
-hear of them in simple English prose which means what it says and says
-what it means, than in poetry (and particularly German poetry) which
-seems to us to do exactly the reverse. Well, then, let us turn away from
-this parabolic Goethe for a little, and see if we cannot find someone who
-shall be his expounder to us. And who else should this be, at any rate
-in this case, than he whom the newspapers like to call the Apostle of
-Culture, Mr. Matthew Arnold? Let us go to Mr. Matthew Arnold, and say:
-“Sir, you are constantly talking about Culture, and you have said many
-uncomplimentary things to us all about our want of it. Now would you be
-so kind as to tell us precisely what you _mean_ by it? And we warn you
-that we are plain practical people who like things put as much in black
-and white as may be, and that we have a decidedly poor opinion of your
-efforts to make us believe that ‘the Eternal not ourselves that makes for
-righteousness’ is the same thing as our ‘loving and intelligent Governor
-of the Universe,’ and that it makes no difference to us when we eat our
-Christmas goose and plum-pudding whether we believe that we do so because
-those shepherds and those Three Kings _did_ come that day to Christ in
-the Bethlehem manger, to the accompaniment of an angelic concert, or did
-not. We want, Sir, a definition of this Culture of yours, or, if you
-cannot give us that (But, really now, you are so clever at definitions
-that we shall be quite disappointed if you cannot!), then you must give
-us a good description of it, so that we may be able to arrive at a proper
-decision about it.” Then an expression of bland patience would cross
-Mr. Arnold’s countenance, as he sat in his study chair, listening with
-that “native modesty” of which he has told us all, to the words of our
-curious foreman; and, after a short pause, he would perhaps answer:
-“Gentlemen, I am much honoured by this deputation and inquiry. Long ago
-in some remarks of mine on translating Homer.... But I will refer you to
-a more recent period. A new and revised edition of a little book of mine
-called ‘Literature and Dogma’ has just been issued in a cheap form by
-Messrs. Smith, Elder and Co. You will find that in the Preface to it the
-following words occur, which I venture to think may, on investigation,
-be found to answer the question with which I am now honoured. But, as
-you possibly may not remember it, (for I cannot expect you, any more
-than myself, to be always studying my works), I will quote it to you.
-‘_Culture_,’ I said (Culture in italics)—‘_Culture_, knowing the best
-that has been thought and known in the world.’ I can give no better
-definition than this. ‘True Culture,’ I say again, ‘true Culture implies
-not only knowledge, but right tact and justness of judgment, forming
-themselves by and with judgment.’ Or, yet again: ‘Culture is _reading_’
-(Reading in italics), ‘but reading with a purpose to guide it, and with
-system.’”—And with this, and a renewal of compliments on both sides, our
-jury bows itself out, and presently the sound of the closing hall-door
-mounts up to the silent chamber.
-
- “But an awful pleasure bland
- spreading o’er the Poet’s face,
- when the sound climbs near his seat,
- the encircled library sees;
- as he lets his lax right hand
- which the lightnings doth embrace
- sink upon his mighty knees.”
-
-This, then, it seems, is Culture—_knowing the best that has been thought
-and known in the world—not only knowledge, but right tact and justness of
-judgment, forming themselves by and with judgment_—reading, _but reading
-with a purpose to guide it, and with system_. And is not this something
-like what Goethe meant in that enigmatic sentence of his, which we have
-heard so often quoted by people who understood it as much as we did:
-“Vom Halben zu entwöhnen; Im Ganzen, Guten, Schönen resolut zu leben.”
-“I resolved to wean myself from halves, and to live for the Whole, the
-Good, the Beautiful.” But even now, even now that we know what it is (And
-after all, we say, what much more is it than saying that we ought to try
-for the best article, and not rest content with anything but the best
-article?), wherein are we, we plain practical people with our attachment
-to black and white, helped to the attainment of it? Culture, we are told,
-is reading, but reading with a purpose to guide it and with system. The
-purpose, it is presumed, is attainment, but what is the system? We are
-to have knowledge, and not only knowledge but right tact and justness of
-judgment, forming themselves by and with judgment. All very nice, we say,
-but how are we to get them? You say to a man who hobbles, “Run:” he is
-quite as capable of saying it as you are. Either show him how to run, or
-hold your tongue!—unless it be that he thinks he _is_ running, and even
-then it seems useless enough to undeceive him without you can teach him
-how to do what he now thinks he is. What, then, is this system of which
-you speak? what is the receipt for it? is it a system possible to _us_?
-
-Well, I really have not the courage to go and face Mr. Arnold again.
-Handlers of the lightnings like he is can be so disagreeable when they
-please. Where is the joy of figuring in some ludicrous or contemptible
-attitude in their writings for the next few hundred years or so? It is
-all very well to say that we shall all of us be in our graves presently,
-and all equally ignorant of what our descendants may think of us, but the
-truth is no one likes to be held up to the nations as a fool or a knave,
-and especially if he be both. I see nothing for it but to let the oracle
-alone. I for one will have nothing to do with stirring up Phoibos again.
-I have done so more than once already, and am too grateful for a whole
-hide to tempt the arrows further. We must be our own Oidipous. At most
-we can reverently finger the Sibylline leaves, and see if anything of
-“pleasant to the eye and good for food” can be extracted therefrom.
-
-To begin with, however, does it not seem best to say at once that, after
-all, there is no receipt for not saying and doing foolish things except
-not to be foolish? No system in the world will give wings to a worm. On
-the other hand, there is really no reason why the descendants of that
-worm should not one day navigate the sky; and, as a matter of fact, they
-do. Similarly with the stupidest and the most degraded of us, I cannot
-see why a single moment should be lost in attempting to better them. The
-earth is likely to be inhabitable for the next eight millions of years
-or so, it seems, and I am sure that is long enough for us. We need not
-be in such a hurry as the Socialists would have us, nor yet creep along
-on all fours in the Conservative manner; but we must not, of course,
-undervalue either fashion or progress, since both wheels and a drag are
-important parts of a carriage in uneven country. But here again, as is
-always the case, we are brought face to face with the question, not only
-of the wheels and the drag, not only of the carriage itself, and not only
-of even the driver of it, but of the end of the journey. “The purpose,”
-we said a moment ago in our ready way, “is, it is presumed, attainment,
-but what is the system?—Never mind,” we say, “about where we are going
-to: let us hear about the carriage we are going in! Let us have Etons and
-Harrows and Melbourne and Geelong Grammar Schools everywhere, and then we
-shall be alright. Let us resolve to have the best article, and not rest
-content with anything but the best article, and that’s all!”
-
-Alas, for the impatience of mankind! In order to _try_ for the best
-article, not to say to _have_ it, must we not first know what the best
-article _is_? should we not know where we are going to, before we
-construct our carriage and purchase our horses? And yet, in ninety-nine
-cases out of a hundred, are we not content to _go_, and leave more or
-less to chance where we are going _to_? do we not waste half our lives in
-overcoming difficulties with which we ought to have had nothing to do?
-It is so easy to talk and to act: it is so difficult to think, and mould
-your words and actions to your thoughts rather than your thoughts to your
-words and actions. It is the weary old tale of the more haste and the
-less speed, the weary old tale that is for ever new. And yet we will not
-listen to it. Sooner than trouble ourselves with the _whys_ of things,
-we will throw ourselves with energy into the first _hows_ that present
-themselves, and leave the rest to chance, or, as Dr. Moorhouse’s good
-“unintelligent orthodox” people say, to God. But nothing real, nothing
-lasting, is achieved in this way. Nature does not work in this way: God
-does not work in this way. The beasts do and the vast majority of men do,
-and that is why, in Hamlet’s words, life is such “an unweeded garden that
-grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature possess it merely.” No,
-if we are to understand, not only Culture but anything at all, we must
-begin at the very beginning: we must learn the _whys_. Take care of the
-_whys_, we might say, and the _hows_ will take care of themselves. And
-let us not for a moment be deceived by those who tell us that our fathers
-got along very well without inquiring into the _whys_, into the causes of
-things, and so can we. This is not so. Whatever success has been achieved
-has been achieved by a recognition, conscious or unconscious it may be,
-of the causes of the thing worked upon. Instead of our fathers having had
-any success from their ignorance of causes, or their reliance on good
-fortune, they have had success in despite in these, and only so far as
-they banished the one and knew how to turn to account the other.
-
-And Culture? what has this to do with Culture? Everything!—In this, as
-in so many other cases, we concentrate all our attention on the _how_
-and leave the _why_ to take care of itself. “More breadth of Culture,
-more breadth of Culture,” cry the Princes and the Priests, and everyone
-else, in emulous chorus. But when they are asked what they _mean_ by
-Culture—what Culture _is_, then they have no answer ready save one (as
-Shelley says),
-
- “pinnacled dim in the intense inane;”
-
-and this sort of thing will, in the end, satisfy no man.
-
-Well, we have heard what Culture _is—knowing the best that has been
-thought and known in the world_. But we have been brought up sharply at
-the very next step: _Culture is reading, but reading with a purpose to
-guide it_. What is the purpose? Attainment. Yes, but _how_? _how_ and
-_why_?
-
-But before we try to answer that, let us think a moment whether the
-expounder of our parabolic Goethe has given us a definition that is
-quite satisfactory. We have nothing to say against his definition of
-Culture itself. It expresses Goethe’s “the Whole, the Good and the
-Beautiful” perfectly. But what about this second definition? what about
-Culture being reading, but reading with a purpose to guide it? Is
-this a pure parallel equivalent of the first, or has it something of
-a limitation in it? Can we, indeed (supposing us the happy possessors
-of a certain purpose and system), achieve a knowledge of the best that
-has been thought and known in the world—of the Whole, the Good and the
-Beautiful—by reading, and by reading only? is this what Goethe has to
-say to us? is this the lesson of Goethe’s life? If it is, why is it that
-he lays such stress on the absolute personal experience of things? If
-Faust could have achieved Truth in his study, why does Goethe show us
-his achievement of it by taking him away from his reading, and flinging
-him in the arms, first of Love and then of Life? Faust does not leave
-his reading and his thinking behind him: they accompany him everywhere,
-from Margarete’s bedroom to the witch-revel on the Brocken. And what does
-this mean but that, to achieve a knowledge of the best that the world
-has thought and known, two things are necessary—reading and experience;
-or, in the same words, thought and knowledge. No amount of reading will
-compensate for want of experience. It is useless for me to think I
-have attained to Truth, if I have never felt her absolute presence. Is
-idealization the essence of true love? Is there a more real inspiration
-to be found in the faëry princesses of Shelley, than in the breathing
-women of Wordsworth? Idealization is good, but it must have a firm
-foundation in reality, or it is barren of anything but fantasticality. So
-it is with thought and knowledge. No man who has not himself lived and
-loved can tell us the truth of love and life. Gibbon had immense reading,
-and a purpose and a system in it (I do not here enter upon their precise
-nature), and his history of the Decline and Fall of Rome is in many
-respects quite admirable, but he does not attain to truth in it. And why?
-Because he has not experience, he has not knowledge. All his reading, all
-his purpose, all his system will not compensate for the want of their
-corollary. No, Culture, the achieving of the best that has been thought
-in the world, is not reading, not reading with any purpose or system that
-has been or will ever be devised. Culture is the combination of reading
-with experience, of thought with knowledge. The one thing acts as a check
-on the other; the one is the spirit and the other the body; the one,
-in Shakspere’s words, the “judgment” and the other the “blood,” and in
-their “co-mingling” is found the perfect man. The purpose, the system
-remain unchanged. We have only, as it seems to me, to develop our second
-definition: to say that Culture _is reading and experience, but reading
-and experience with a purpose to guide them, and a system_.
-
-And so, having disposed somewhat of the _why_, we come back to the _how_,
-the purpose and the system. In reality the two are one. Mr. Arnold
-speaks once of Goethe’s “profound impartiality,” and elsewhere he lays
-the greatest stress on that which alone can help criticism “to produce
-fruit for the future”—_disinterestedness_. By _disinterestedness_ he
-means the sincere endeavour, the pure and simple endeavour, to get at the
-truth of things, to see them as they really are. And what is this but
-Goethe’s determination to “wean himself from halves,” from partial views
-of things? Now nothing is easier than to say that you seek for Truth
-and Truth only, and nothing is more difficult to do. Who is there that
-does not make this profession? And yet how few, how infinitely few, are
-those who turn it into practice! And why is this? The answer of course is
-because, say what they may, the pursuit of most men is merely relative.
-I no more attain to Truth by saying “Go to, I will attain to it,” than I
-should fly over the moon by a like formula. It is only the really honest
-and sincere, the really pure and simple endeavour to find Truth that
-makes me competent to even set out in search of it, and it is only by
-the ceaseless use of a system of resolute patience and clear-sightedness
-that I can hope to proceed with any success upon my way. This is indeed a
-hard saying; but who, except him who ought to feel it least, feels that
-Truth is a goal to be won by rose-crowned processions to the sound of
-cymbals and dances? Some people, indeed, have a conviction that a special
-exception has been made in their case, and that what has been hidden
-from the wise and prudent has been revealed to babes and sucklings; and
-I am sure it is a pleasant sight enough to see the way the babes and
-sucklings enjoy this idea, and will continue to do so as long as the
-milk lasts. (And, indeed, at this very hour when the milk is running
-rather low, what a dismal howl the poor little things are setting up, and
-how on earth are we ever going to wean them?) No, it is only by utter
-and unwearying honesty, by the obstinate determination to admit of no
-delusion or illusion, however attractive, however pleasant to our souls,
-that we can hope to attain to anything like Truth. How often, when we
-think we have found the jewel, must we put it down and remove ourselves,
-now to this side, now to that, to be sure that the cutting is indeed
-flawless! how much must we give up, and how much must we win, before our
-mind is trained to, as it were, of itself, effortlessly, spontaneously,
-look at things with that patient clear-sightedness which reaches to their
-essence! This, then, is our purpose in Culture, and this our system, and
-this is the fruit of it—a habit of thought which shall have _not only
-thought and knowledge, but right tact and justness of judgment, forming
-themselves by and with judgment_. And so our scheme is complete.
-
-Now, leave this theoretical consideration of it for a moment, and see
-with what result it has been applied to actual things. It has been
-applied, it is being applied, everywhere and to almost everything. Take
-the domain of Science, where it has, so far, been applied in a manner
-which appeals most to most people—practical success, as we call it. There
-is no need for me to sing the praises of this practical success. It rises
-all round me in choruses and peans and hosannas. What I want to say
-about it is, that all this practical success is due solely and entirely
-to the fact that its creators have applied that purpose and system of
-ours on, it is true, a more virgin soil than most, but also with a more
-thoroughness than any. Look at the patience and clear-sightedness that
-breathes and shines in every page Darwin wrote! It was well said of him,
-that you could be sure no one would state the case against anything he
-had to say more fully than he did himself. What a serenity the man had,
-what depths of power and peace! It was my privilege to have had for
-father one who, to his own depths of serenity, and power, and peace,
-added those drawn from his friendship with this great Darwin, and from
-an unrivalled appreciation of his work. When I think of that method of
-the pursuit of the truth of things which I have myself seen in the late
-Professor Leith Adams, my father, I seem to myself to despair of ever
-thoroughly mastering the reality of anything at all. I am overwhelmed
-with the mystery of Butters’ Spelling Book: I dare not lift up my eyes
-to criticise a barrel-organ, and the young lady so painfully practising
-scales there is a whole heaven above me. We cannot too much praise the
-complete singleness of heart and soul with which the Scientists have
-faced their problems. When I compare Lord Tennyson’s consideration of
-the Struggle in Nature in _In Memoriam_, with Darwin’s in his _Descent
-of Man_, the radical insincerity of the former, I confess, disgusts me,
-and I fear to do some one or other of its good qualities an injustice.
-What intellectual exercise all this despair is! The poet’s mind is made
-up before he starts, and all this paraphernalia of doubt is really simply
-to show that he can enter into the opposite point of view to his own,
-and yet retain his original convictions! What is the sum total of it?
-That here is a man of the past, born into a present from which none but
-those of the future can evolve that future. Five are five and ten are
-ten, and he adds them together and makes seven! With how different a
-temper does Darwin face his problem! He has become “as a little child”
-in his simple attitude towards things. “Where’er thou leadest, will I
-follow thee.” And it was just because this was so, that what he had to
-say to us prevails more and more; for, having attained to the secret of
-the purpose and system of patience and clear-sightedness, he had not only
-knowledge but right tact and justness of judgment, forming themselves by
-and with judgment; and so he achieved Truth for himself and for others.
-Nor does the good of such a man, his life and his work, end here. He has
-communicated to all who have anything to do with his work, his secret
-or something of his secret, even as Goethe did before him. Why, here
-we have Professor Huxley warning the coming race of Scientists against
-taking for granted the very things in the discovery and revelation of
-which he has himself toiled all his life, and the cry has been taken up
-with enthusiasm. “All is possible,” said Professor Clifford, “to him
-who doubts.” What an admirable temper is this. Imagine Cardinal Newman
-warning the young Catholics against taking the Infallibility of the
-Church for granted! Or Lord Tennyson assuring us that that fine personal
-individuality theory of his (“I am I, thou art thou,” and so on) must
-not be considered by young Churchmen as finally settled! And yet it is
-in the possession or non-possession of this temper, I say, that lies
-the essential difference between the men of the past and the men of the
-future. Mr. Arnold laments that Cardinal Newman, “that exquisite and
-delicate genius,” was not born a little later, so that the Time-Spirit
-might have touched and transformed him. The same may be said of Lord
-Tennyson, and will be said in another fifty years. But let us have an
-end to such laments. To these men, as to their contemporaries, the light
-came, and they chose the twilight where others chose the dawn, and,
-having had their hour of victory in the applause of the mass of their
-time, the doubters and the believers, let us recognize that, at any rate
-as influences on thought, they are but ghosts in the bright daytime,
-speechless and ineffectual.
-
-I have, despite myself, been singing the praises of the Scientists.
-And why not? Have they not shown us that they have (as Darwin says so
-gracefully of Mr. Wallace) “an innate genius for solving difficulties?”
-But they, too, have their assailable side. I have spoken of Professor
-Clifford. His talent we were all bound to admire, and his sincerity;
-but how wonderfully inept he was when he came to consider things
-outside his own immediate sphere! We all remember what he had to say
-about Christianity. He had the same narrowness towards Christianity
-that the Christians have towards Science. In them it is excusable,
-perhaps. Circumstances have been all against them. They have had such
-little opportunity of attaining to the secret of the purpose and system
-of Culture. It has taken its rise outside their pale, and has been
-combated as a foe, and is still combated. But in a man who _had_ this
-secret, how inexcusable the not being able to apply it outside his own
-immediate sphere! and how doubly inexcusable to apply to his opponents
-that very method which had made them so! Really he should have known
-better. And unfortunately there are so many of the young Scientists that
-are following in his footsteps, and not in the footsteps of Darwin. And
-this is a great misfortune, and should be struggled against with all
-our powers. But otherwise (since I cannot end here with the note of
-blame), how truly admirable is the temper of these men when they are only
-let alone in their own sphere! Compare the teaching of Science in our
-colleges and universities with that of Literature! And yet, slow as is
-the progress of Literature in its application of the purpose and system
-of Culture to things, it _is_ a progress. The success of that charming
-series of biographies, the English Men of Letters—nay, of the little
-shilling Literature Primers—is a sign of it. And the same thing, too, is
-being done with regard to Philosophy; but, so far, the men of Science
-have the lead, and they deserve it; for, as I have said, theirs has been
-the most complete singleness of heart and soul with which Truth has been
-sought out, they have the most thoroughly applied the secret of the
-purpose and system of Culture.
-
-Now, let us again leave our consideration of these things, and see
-wherein this question of Culture concerns us plain practical people with
-our attachment to black and white; how does it, in a word, come into our
-daily life. I can only answer as before, everywhere!—The other day the
-son of a friend of mine, (say) Jones, wished to apprentice himself as
-a brewer, or, rather, wished to start as a brewer at once. His father
-sent him to a well-known brewer to be, as the father said, put through
-his paces. The young man returned crestfallen. What was the matter? The
-father could not understand it, and I was set to find it out.—“_Tom
-hasn’t enough Culture_,” I reported.—“What do you mean?” asked the
-father.—“He doesn’t know the best that has been thought and known in the
-world in the matter of brewing,” I replied, “I should advise a course of
-practical chemistry.”—“But I’m sure X ..., the brewer’s father, didn’t
-know anything about chemistry, or his father before him.”—“Probably; but,
-if _X_ ... didn’t, I expect he’d have to give up brewing,” I said. And it
-is the same in everything. More and more the perception that things move
-by fixed laws, which must be obeyed if we would direct ourselves with
-success, spreads and intensifies. The necessity of moulding our words
-and actions to our thoughts, rather than our thoughts to our words and
-actions, is becoming apparent to all men who would avoid the workhouse,
-actual or metaphorical. The _whys_ of things press upon us. It is no use
-contenting ourselves with the _hows_. If we do, someone else finds out
-the _whys_, and we are left in the lurch. The other day an intelligent
-sheep-breeder told me an amusing tale. He had with much trouble and
-cost purchased in Tasmania a small stud of prize sheep, which he took
-up to his station in the North. The flower of the first generation he
-sent to a neighbouring show. The wool of the sheep was thick and close,
-unlike that of the locky sheep which are considered the best there. His
-sheep was laughed at by all the judges, who wondered such a sensible man
-should have sent such a senseless sheep! These judges were deficient
-in Culture: they did not know the best that has been thought and known
-in the world in the matter of sheep-breeding. The sheep of these men
-were shearing on an average less by more than two pounds of wool than
-the sheep of the more scientific sheep-breeders further south! It is a
-question, then, whether their children will be so jubilant when they are
-brought face to face with the competition of an enormously increased home
-wool-production, and a still more enormously increased wool-production
-from South America. You cannot now with impunity be wanting in Culture.
-The stream of life flows too fast for the straws that want to go
-exploring back-waters, or stopping to admire the scenery.
-
-And Australia—this Australia in which we live—what a need for Culture is
-here! I see nothing here of the best, and much of the worst. Take this
-very question of sheep-breeding. Australia is in advance of England,
-for sheep-breeding is the staple support of the one country, and only
-an item in the produce of the other. But in what a backward state it is
-to what, as a staple support, it ought to be! By what rough and ready
-methods things are still done here. What a dearth of real intelligence
-there is! of that patience and clear-sightedness which is the secret of
-the purpose and system of Culture. Who seems to see that in this, as in
-all matters, the _why_ is the important matter on which the _how_ will
-follow, and not the reverse? There is abundance of shrewdness to hand,
-and finger and thumb wisdom, but who sees that the great necessity is
-sheer knowledge? Australia was made by men of this stamp, and they still
-rule it, but their rule is passing, as it was bound to pass, before
-the unruffled intelligence of the Time-Spirit. These were the men who
-gave us our absurd nomenclature of birds and flowers. If they saw a
-bird was black and had one dissonant cry, they called it a jay, and it
-sufficed. A flower is yellow and little: call it a primrose. And so on.
-Then their children arose in their turn, and found themselves rich, and
-took to building cities, and we have (what Mr. Sala calls) Marvellous
-Melbourne, with the Picture-gallery and Statue-gallery which we know,
-and the crowning glory of its Government House, perhaps the most hideous
-hospital in existence. Or the good Sydney people would like to decorate
-their Post-office with emblematic sculpture, and the result is, what has
-at last become, the mockery of a Continent. And at last, too, the Picture
-Gallery at Melbourne is coming into disrepute, and some day, perhaps, the
-Government House will do the same. It would be pleasant, I think, to see
-it turned into an asylum. No nation that calls itself civilized stands
-in more need of Culture, of the best that has been thought and known in
-the world, in each and every branch of it, than Australia does. Some
-faint perception of this seems positively to be beginning to dawn upon
-its complacency. Let us do all we can to forward this. “The Australians,”
-said an Australian to me the other day, “are much more fond of beautiful
-things than the English.” “Alas,” I answered, “that is not saying much,
-but I have not yet remarked it.” No, the one commendable wish that the
-Australians have, is that they really do want the best article in things,
-and for the best article they are ready to pay. The unfortunate thing is,
-that there seems nothing in which they are yet qualified to know the best
-article when they see it! “We want fine pictures,” say the Victorians,
-and they are befooled by ship-loads of London tea-trays, which no one but
-members of Assembly and the wives of tradespeople and squatters would
-take for anything else.—And yet, how is it possible for me to continue to
-pile up anathemas like this against these Australians for whom I hope so
-much, unless it be that I think in this way to do the little best I can
-towards helping to the realization of my hopes? But this is an old tale
-now, and we will say no more of it.
-
-In every aspect of life, then, from its highest to its lowest, let us
-remember this idea of Culture, let us make for the best article, and
-be secure in its possession. The other day a Melbourne lady was saying
-to me how pretty and charming a place the Fitzroy Gardens were as a
-public park. “But the brown plaster statues,” I said, “and the concrete
-water-shrines.” And this Melbourne lady frankly declared her allegiance
-to these things, and, when in my disagreeable unsatisfied way I began to
-compare them with the marble copies from the Antique which are to be seen
-in the Inner Domain and Botanical Gardens in Sydney, she frankly told me
-that _after all_ it was only _a matter of opinion_, and _my_ opinion was
-this and _hers_ was that! “And so,” I said, “my dear lady, it is, _after
-all_, only _a matter of opinion_ whether the Apollo of the Belvidere or
-the Venus of Milo is more beautiful or less beautiful than the statue of
-Burke and Wills in Collins Street, not to say the brown-plaster statues
-in the Fitzroy Gardens?” And then this Melbourne lady, who had read many
-novels and magazines, and several volumes of sermons and even popular
-“philosophy books,” maintained her original assertion with the charming
-assurance of her sex; and I could only think that it was a pity she had
-not Culture—did not know the best, or even the second or third best, of
-what has been known and thought in the world in the matter of sculptural
-beauty, for then she would not have helped to persuade her husband to
-vote for the erection of any more brown-plaster statues and concrete
-water-shrines in the public places of his city. But, as it is, I am
-so thankful that the Sydney people have decorated one of their public
-places with really fine marble copies from the Antique (which none of
-these Australians, with their superior love for beautiful things has
-yet, so far as I am aware, thought of defacing), that I wonder at myself
-for thinking of saying it is a pity to see beside these so many poor
-modern and perhaps colonial products; for who can be wise—do I say in an
-hour, in a day, in a year, in a life-time? nay, rather, in a generation?
-Certainly not the architects and public decorators of Australia. Let
-us be thankful for what we have got, and diligently go on showing our
-thankfulness by asking for more.
-
-But no; the time has passed when silly people can say that silliness is,
-_after all_, only a _matter of opinion_—or, if it has not passed, then we
-ought all of us to be striving our utmost to make it be passed. Culture
-is possible to so many! Its text-books are no longer in the hands of the
-incompetent: we have really no excuse for thinking Mr. Martin Tupper
-is preferable as a poet to Lord Tennyson, or Miss Eliza Cook to Mr.
-Arnold; and I will confess that I look with suspicion on the intellectual
-attainments of a man who sees no difference in the _opinion_ of Darwin
-or Professor Huxley and of the popular Theologians and Mr. Lilly. Look,
-I say, at the text-books of Culture now, of the best which has been
-known and thought in the world. We have all seen Professor Huxley’s
-little primer of Physiology. Well, that is for Science. Then there is
-Mr. Stopford Brooke’s little primer of English Literature. That is for
-Literature; and these are only examples. Really, now, we _have_ no excuse
-for reading the wrong books and thinking the wrong thoughts any more.
-And we have not, either, to confine ourselves to the thought of our own
-language. Everywhere excellent translations of noteworthy works are to be
-found. We would get to know something of the literature of Greece? At the
-end of Mr. Jebbs’ excellent little primer of Greek Literature, we shall
-find a list of the best translations. We have heard people talking of
-Professor Haeckel and his wonderful physiological work? Good translations
-of his best-known books are to hand. And so on throughout the whole
-domain of thought.
-
-Let us sum up and conclude. We see, then, I think, what Culture is, and
-what is the purpose and system which should form and guide it. There
-is only one thing more to say about it, and that is that Culture, in
-this sense of the word, is the distinct product of our own times. No
-other country at no other time possessed it. The Jews possessed an
-unrivalled insight into Religion, into the sense of Righteousness. It is
-to a Jew that we owe most of what is best in Religion. Indeed, to the
-great majority of us his name is still a synonyme for Religion. But
-Righteousness is not the sole necessity of life—there is also Beauty.
-“Beauty,” says Keats,
-
- “beauty is truth, truth beauty: this is all
- ye know on earth or that ye need to know.”
-
-But Keats, we remember, was a Pagan, a modern Greek, and men like
-this are quite as apt to think that Beauty is “the one thing needful”
-as the other stamp of man is to think that Righteousness is “the one
-thing needful;” whereas the real fact is that both are needful. What an
-advantage, then, have we over both Jews and Greeks in our appreciation of
-this! At the best, it is not possible to look upon either Paul or Plato
-as exponents of anything final. It requires two wings to soar with, and
-who can think that this “ugly little Jew,” as M. Renan has it, who talked
-nonsense about an Art which at best seemed to him mostly diabolical,
-was dowered with two? Nor yet can we think this of that “high Athenian
-gentleman,” as Carlyle retorts, with his illustrious Master who would
-have been so “terribly at ease in Zion.” Let us recognize it at once:
-the Jews are great and the Greeks are great, but neither of them by
-themselves can satisfy us. Nay, further; to the sense of Righteousness
-and Beauty must now be added that sense which Bacon first brought with
-any fertility to us—the sense of Science. “And we,” says Arnold,
-
- “and we have been on many thousand lines,
- and we have shown, in each, spirit and power.”
-
-And it is just from the combination of the results of our spirit and
-power on these many thousand lines that this Culture of ours, this unique
-product of our times, springs. It was not before this possible. How could
-Paul understand the Greek Art? how could Plato have understood the Hebrew
-Righteousness? It was not till the Renascence, till Shakspere, that such
-a thing was possible, and it was not till Modernity, till Goethe, that
-it was possible to find these two senses, the sense of Beauty and of
-Righteousness, united to that third great sense, the sense of Science.
-I do not say that our age is necessarily a peculiarly great age: you
-may call it the dwarf on the giant’s shoulders, if you please; but what
-I do say is, that it is the first age which has been able to attain to
-anything like a really comprehensive Culture, a knowledge of the best
-that has been known and thought in the world. Possibly we are only on the
-threshold of Truth: possibly it will be left to another age to work out
-and complete what we have but begun; but this I think is certain: We
-_are_ on the threshold, and the sooner we realize it, the sooner shall
-we realize that we are men in whom it is incumbent to put off childish
-things, the sooner shall we advance into the palace and very home.
-
-Ah, then, let us no longer content ourselves with anything less than
-the best article! Let us live for the Idea of Culture, for and by
-it—for the best that has been thought and known in the world! Let us,
-too, like Goethe, resolve to wean ourselves from halves, from partial
-and prejudiced views of things, and to live “_im Ganzen, Guten,
-Schönen_”—“for the Whole, the Good, the Beautiful!”
-
- _December, 1885._
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-“DAWNWARDS:”
-
-AN AUSTRALIAN DIALOGUE.
-
-
-INTRODUCTION.
-
-Horace Gildea was the grandson of one of those self-reliant energetic
-men of the English upper Middle-class, who at an early period of life
-conceive a particular ambition, and devote themselves wholly to the
-successful achievement of it. Edward Gildea, the man in question,
-desired, or we may even say intended, to possess both wealth and
-position, and he was, as the expression goes, still young (between forty
-and fifty years of age, that is) when his intentions were fulfilled. A
-baronetcy was conferred on him by a grateful Conservative government:
-his marriage with the only daughter of Lord Mainwaring had already
-brought him a considerable amount of landed property; and now, having
-bought more, he retired from the troublous and busy world to the “easeful
-dignity” of the life of a rich and respected English country magnate. Our
-Aristocracy is adaptive (here, indeed, lies its strength, as compared,
-for instance, with that of France): it will enrol among its members of
-to-day an outgrowth of the Middle-class, upper and lower, professional
-or trading, with the same ready complacency with which it enrolled among
-its members of yesterday the offspring of some poor royal amour or other;
-and this is not surprising, when we perceive how little difference there
-is, intellectually speaking, between the three classes. The aristocratic
-ideal in England does not, or did not, soar much higher than grouse to
-shoot, land to shoot them on, and savoury cooking to eat them with;
-and the aristocratic ideal is, with slight modifications, the ideal
-of the country at large. In one generation the Gildeas were counted
-among, what is called, the best people. The two sons of Sir Edward
-were educated at public schools and Oxford and Cambridge, and passed,
-the one into parliament, the other into the Diplomatic-service, where
-neither distinguished themselves. Horace Gildea, too, an only child,
-was sent to a public school and Oxford, and with the same result. At
-Oxford, however, although he did nothing more, educationally, than take
-his degree, he did not spend his time in mere amusement. Thanks to the
-friendship of Sir James Gwatkin, the well-known æsthetic critic, Gildea
-learned to appreciate the delights of that wonderful modern production
-which we call Culture. He had sufficient knowledge of Greek and Latin to
-enter into the spirit of their art and poetry, and he learned French,
-German, and Italian in the pleasant sexual manner prescribed by Byron. He
-travelled more or less all over Europe, “living and loving largely,” but
-(unlike Byron) saved from that excess whose inevitable fruit is satiety,
-by the talisman with which Sir James had dowered him. Gildea had, too,
-what the Romans called _curiositas_. The merely physical ideal of the
-English viveur did not satisfy him: he used to say that, if he was to be
-a blackguard, he should like to be a fine blackguard, and how can you be
-a fine blackguard if you know nothing but what can be known by any fool
-that can pay for it?
-
-Several years after the death of his father, Gildea, living a life of
-considerable enjoyment between the pleasures of the countries and the
-capitals of Europe, began to perceive that, after all, his talisman
-was not omnipotent: it could not lay, it could only distance, that
-ancient spectre which he now for the first time learned to face, if
-not to dread, Satiety. At this point, however, Fortune, whose child he
-seemed, came to the rescue: he fell in love. The best definition of
-love is, perhaps, the care of someone else more than yourself, and (the
-passionate would add) than anything. Gildea, then, did indeed fall in
-love; but as his care for himself or for anything was not very great,
-it cannot be said that he fell in love deeply. But Fortune, having
-given him a spell with which to once more distance the ancient spectre,
-now deserted him. The lady he loved did not love him in return: her
-friendship—and friendship from so sweet and passionate a nature as hers
-was of a somewhat intense character, partaking more of the warm sunlight
-than the clear moonlight—her friendship she eagerly gave to him, but her
-love was, past recall, given to someone else. On the day on which he
-first realized this, Gildea, who had hoped otherwise, left England in
-his little yacht the “Petrel,” alone. He had intended visiting the east
-with her, returning by Naples, Rome, and Paris, with many sweet years,
-nomadic or otherwise, in the radiant future. Now he was quite careless
-where he went: for the first time in his life he knew what it was to feel
-miserable. The loss of this woman was a loss from himself. He felt a void
-in his soul, in his future. “And yet,” he used to tell himself, “she was
-not ‘the twin soul that halved my own:’ we should not have made perfect
-lovers, passionate, deep, abiding! None the less do I—or did I—long for
-her. She is the most beautiful soul I have yet seen, or probably shall
-ever see. Who would not straightway go and sell all that he had to
-possess her?—and willingly chance the rest!”
-
-A violent storm caught the “Petrel” as she was about halfway down the Bay
-of Biscay, and hurried her past Gibraltar. When Gildea perceived this,
-and was asked by his skipper if they should put back, he kept silence for
-a moment. Then, looking up with an amused smile, said:
-
-“No, Barry. We’ll go straight on to Madeira for provisions—from thence to
-St. Helena, and then double the Cape and make for Australia.”
-
-Gildea had not been to Australia: it was one of the few places in the
-world to which he had not been. He might, he thought now, as well go
-there as anywhere. Several things in Australia interested him, and this
-was enough reason to make him, in his present state, care to go.
-
-One bright, showery november afternoon, then, the “Petrel” passed Port
-Phillip Heads: was piloted up the harbour to Port Melbourne pier, and
-Gildea disembarked. He knew one person in Melbourne, and only one,
-Charles Maddock. Maddock, and his father before him, had been friends
-of the Gildea family. Maddock was some fifteen years older than Gildea,
-whom he had known well as a boy at Katharinasbury, he himself at that
-time being in the midst of his brilliant scholastic career at Cambridge.
-Almost immediately after his ordination, Maddock came out to a high
-ecclesiastical position in Australia. It had been the wish of his life to
-work in one of the Pacific Colonies, and now his wish was fulfilled. The
-appointment of one so young to the post he had at first held, had caused
-a little murmuring both at home and in the Colony, it being known that
-he was possessed of the highest influence; but the murmuring had soon
-passed into pleasant greeting, and was now swelled to a regular chorus
-of applause from friends, foes, and indifferent alike. Maddock had great
-charm of manner: he was a more or less refined scholar, yet was not
-lacking in that spiritual robustness which goes so far to make up what
-is called a personality. It would not be too much to say that he was the
-most popular man in the colony. Society delighted in the gentleman: the
-outer world in the man, and both were right, for (here was the secret!)
-he sympathized with both.
-
-Gildea on his arrival took up his abode at an hotel until he saw rooms
-that pleased him, and began, after his fashion, to examine the city
-and its inhabitants. He went everywhere and saw everything, happy to
-find that his _curiositas_ was not after all dead in him. Pleasure, in
-the sense of _living_, is in Melbourne but, what Tennyson says of the
-pleasure of London, “gross mud-honey,” and had not much attraction to
-one who had been through the best specimens thereof in London, Paris,
-New York, and Vienna. Gildea, however, if he did not go through it here,
-mingled with it as an amused half-spectator half-actor, seeking out
-its meaning as regards this dawning civilization which was interesting
-him just at present. He fell in with Sydney Medwin, a squatter’s son
-and ex-Cambridge undergraduate, whom he had known by repute as an
-inter-university runner and would-be rake, and they spent some pleasant
-days together. Medwin’s father wished him to take to station work, but
-Medwin, having tasted the “gross mud-honey” of London, Paris, and the
-Continent generally, was doggedly determined to do no such thing.
-
-“Damn it all,” he said once in his half-acute way to Gildea, “there’s
-quite enough money made already in the family, and now it’s time to spend
-it. If my governor had wanted me to look after sheep, he shouldn’t have
-sent me to Europe.”
-
-Europe was to Medwin—to Medwin held down by his inexorable “governor”
-to an allowance and a place in the home establishment—a sort of far-off
-beautiful dream which had once to a certain extent been his and, he
-feared, would never be his again. His life was reckless: he was knowingly
-doing his best to spoil a fine constitution by his excesses, and looked
-forward to death within ten or fifteen years with stupid stoicism.
-
-After a little Gildea thought that he would like to see something of
-colonial society, social and intellectual, and presented himself to
-Maddock. Maddock knew the Medwins well, and even Sydney Medwin who, in
-his unreflective way, had a great respect for him.
-
-“The governor,” Medwin said once to Gildea, “the governor has ruined
-my life! I had an ambition—I was _ambitious_; yes, I was _ambitious_!
-But I had to keep it dark! I can’t argue about it, you know: I haven’t
-thought for years, and now I can’t. But if Christianity’s good enough for
-Maddock, it’s good enough for me. I believe in Maddock.”
-
-Accordingly, whenever Maddock was to be met at the Medwins’, Sydney
-Medwin was to be seen listening attentively to everything the Doctor
-said, trying to think, trying to understand, the look of intelligence
-varying on his face with the look of puzzlement.
-
-“A fuddled intelligence,” said Gildea once, smiling and laughing; “now
-he’ll be off and get drunk with one of his girls at Dicks’.” (Dicks’
-was a private hotel where “the set,” as Medwin and his friends called
-themselves, often met for the purposes of recreation.)
-
-Maddock was very pleased to meet Gildea again, and during the next month
-they saw much of each other. Gildea mingled with the Colonial society
-as he had mingled with the outer world, but with less interest. The
-Colonial outer world is at any rate original: it does not imitate, it
-_is_. Colonial society, on the other hand, imitates and imitates badly.
-It is a case of the new wine in the old bottles. The young people wish
-to break away from all the old social convenances and bien-séances: they
-have almost a contempt for the old people; but the old people rule, and
-their rule is as yet too strong to be openly disobeyed. The young people,
-therefore, lack social self-reliance: they have no distinctive “style”
-of their own as in America. “Indeed,” as Medwin used to say, “no one
-_has_ any style out here, except the people at Government House.—And
-they,” he would add, admiringly, “look down upon us all as louts.” The
-young people, then, feel their ideas of happiness to be frail, immature:
-pleasure is not, as in the European capitals, provided for them; they
-must provide it for themselves. Pleasure, however, is their aim, and
-pleasure, so soon as they rule in their turn, they will have. The
-question is whether this pleasure is to be “mud-honey”—“mud-honey” with
-its grossness drained somewhat, but still “mud-honey”—or whether that
-wonderful modern production which we call Culture is going to intervene
-and complicate matters.
-
-Gildea soon wearied of a society in such a painful state of transition.
-Having arrived at these conclusions on its tendencies, or what he took
-to be its tendencies, the painfulness of it began to afflict him. At the
-same time his interest in the problem of this small social hot-house did
-not, somewhat to his surprise, show signs of leaving him.
-
-One evening, at a large ball, he had been dancing and talking with a
-singularly bright and intelligent girl, who had pleased him by herself
-expressing her consciousness of this state of social transition of
-theirs, and ascribing the true reasons for it. They sat out several
-dances together, he enjoying her talk as that of a clever child, she with
-her woman’s vanity pleased to be monopolizing the most distinguished
-man in the room, and also glad of his mental appreciation of her. He
-half lay in a low chair beside her, looking at her with smiling eyes and
-smiling lips, amused. She was a little excited, just enough to give extra
-brilliance to her words and acts. She was not speaking to him alone: she
-was aware of the audience of guests, all of whom, she felt, were noticing
-her, and some catching parts of the conversation. He, who read her soul
-as if it were transparent, became more and more amused as she proceeded,
-and by an occasional movement helped her out with the impression he
-saw she wished to give her friends, namely, that he was more or less
-entranced by her. The thought of taking her to Paris and introducing her
-to its society, of watching her intense capacities of social pleasure
-expanding there in their natural atmosphere, occurred to him and pleased
-him. He had arrived at that spiritual state when much of our pleasure is
-in watching the pleasure of other people.
-
-“Well,” he said at last, “and do you not find yourself lonely here,
-with all these wonderful ideas of yours, Miss Shepherd? All the other
-Melbourne young ladies do not, surely, participate in them?”
-
-She was not quite sure for a moment whether he was mocking at her or not;
-but, looking at his face, decided in the negative.
-
-“Yes,” she said, “I _am_ lonely—rather. The other girls want to see
-things. They want to go to Europe—London, Paris, and all that. But they
-say it’s such a bother, and they’ve no memory. They don’t know _what_
-they want: they only know that they don’t want what they’ve got.—But
-I—,” she added, turning to him, and catching her lower lip lightly with
-her pretty visible teeth, one hand on her knee closing slightly.
-
-“But you?”
-
-“_I_ want to—_live_!”
-
-A pause.
-
-“Ah,” he said, “that means that some day you will want to die.”
-
-“I daresay! But I shall have lived _first_!—This Melbourne is just waking
-up. I wish, O I wish I had not come into it till it was awake!”
-
-“You would like to go to Paris, then?”
-
-“Paris!” (She stopped breathing.)—“O that,” she said, looking at him
-again, “is simply heaven!”
-
-“How do you know that, Miss Shepherd?”
-
-“Oh, I have read it! I have read all Alphonse Daudet’s novels, and a lot
-of Balzac’s.”
-
-As Gildea strolled through the warm night streets, smoking a cigar, he
-thought of her again for a moment, and laughed to himself.
-
-“The one Parisienne I have met out of Paris,” he said to himself, “She is
-of the tribe of the fine steel-pearl mangeuses who rend life with their
-dear little white teeth for the pleasure of rending. She should have been
-born in a concierge’s lodge, with a future in ermine—and the Morgue.
-And yet she is better than the mere mangeuse: she has intelligence. She
-has to thank Australia for that. For a month, or even two, she would
-be supportable—but the “Petrel” would take three to get her to Naples,
-perhaps, and it would be more trouble to loose her and let her go then
-than now.”
-
-He had been strolling about the streets for more than an hour. He was not
-quite sure where he was. He stopped for a moment to look about him. A
-short well-moulded figure in a close dress and a poke bonnet passed him
-and turned down a narrow street ten or twelve yards ahead. He threw away
-his cigar.
-
-“Janet,” he said to himself, “sweet child! And she recognized me and went
-on.”
-
-Janet, a Salvation Army “lass,” going down into the Little Bourke Street
-slums had indeed recognised him. The figure of a man, in a light overcoat
-open in front showing that he was in evening dress, was remarkable
-enough, to have attracted anyone’s attention there. She had looked up for
-a moment: caught a glimpse of his face and, with a wild throbbing heart
-and quivering lips, hurried by, and on, and away. Gildea’s investigations
-into the social condition of the place had made him many unexpected
-friends. Here was one who was something more than a friend, a lover, and
-he knew it.
-
-“I am sick of it,” he said to himself, almost bitterly, “I will go away.
-I want change.”
-
-At about five o’clock that morning Sir Horace Gildea was rowed aboard
-of the “Petrel,” which passed out of the Heads a little after one, and
-turned to the east, making for Sydney.
-
-
-I.
-
-It was about eleven o’clock in the morning of a day late in april. The
-sun shone with bright warmth, a fresh breeze blowing in from the sea.
-Great deep masses of cloud, luminous-white or here and there shaded with
-that slaty black which denotes incipient rain, were moving in the blue
-vault of the heavens. Gildea was descending the steps of the entrance to
-St. Mary’s Cathedral, accompanied by a young man of about his own age. At
-the foot of the steps they both paused.
-
-“Well,” said Gildea with a look, “You will be at my rooms in time for
-lunch, you say?”
-
-The other nodded, and, in a few moments, saluting one another with a
-movement of the hand, they parted. The young man went with a quick firm
-step in the direction of St. James’ Church, while Gildea sauntered across
-the road into the Domain. He was thinking of the young man, Francis
-Fitzgerald, a young Jesuit whom he had met years ago at a seaside place
-in the south of France, and who, as he said, for the sake of his health,
-had come out on a voyage to Australia.
-
-“It is wonderful,” said Gildea to himself, “how quickly and thoroughly
-the religious bodies are waking up to the intellectual necessities of the
-time. Romans—Anglicans—Lutherans, and even Calvinists are sucking lustily
-at the two paps of the Modern Spirit which we call Science and Culture.
-It is the instinct of self-preservation. If they do not suck they will
-starve. But ah, how many of us are cross-tempered enough to prefer to
-starve rather than imbibe the milk of a cross-tempered mother!” He looked
-up with a fine smile, suddenly realizing his humour of thought. “I am
-quite serious,” he said to himself, the smile deepening and broadening,
-lighting up his face with amusement, “which shows how adaptive I am.
-Really now, I listened to Fitzgerald’s hopes and beliefs in the future
-of Romanism with quite as much interest as if I were a Romanist myself.
-I can quite conceive of myself taking very considerable pains to forward
-a cause in which somebody else believed. This surely was the central
-idea of my attachment to Olivia Bruce? I used to think I should be
-quite satisfied to live the life of a poet in that of my poetess? So
-far, this power of living your own life in the life of one you love has
-been a female gift. And indeed I have often thought that I should have
-been better as a woman. I can quite imagine myself as Lady Bellfield
-or d’Israeli’s delightful Berengaria; whereas now, I am but an aimless
-wanderer on the face of an aimless planet, a pilgrim without a shrine.”
-
-He walked on half-thoughtful half-amused, till he had crossed the Domain
-and found himself opposite the Picture Gallery and the Botanical Gardens.
-He entered the gardens, and was proceeding down one of the walks when,
-some fifteen yards before him, he beheld a well-known figure. It was
-Maddock, Maddock standing at the side of the walk, observing a plant
-through his pince-nez with serene interest. Gildea came up to him with
-pleasure.
-
-“Ah, Doctor,” he said, “you here! This is a surprise!”
-
-They shook hands: greeted one another, and exchanged health notes both of
-themselves and Mrs. Maddock, as they went on down the walk together, the
-Doctor rubbing his glasses with his silk handkerchief and keeping step.
-
-“The truth is, my dear fellow,” he said, his head up and moving from side
-to side as he drew into himself the enjoyment of the fine morning air
-and scene, “the truth is, I am here for a holiday—or rather, for half
-a holiday. Sydney is a favourite place of mine.—But,” he added in his
-humorous confidential way, “you know I don’t care for the _people_! They
-are not in earnest enough! I would sooner, I believe, have an earnest
-atheist than a lukewarm orthodox man. Isn’t it your friend Renan who says
-somewhere, that the atheist has an idea of things, a quite inadequate
-idea, it is true, but still an idea, whereas ‘the average sensual man’
-has none?—or something to that effect.”
-
-“Yes,” said Gildea, “he says so; and he adds elsewhere that ‘atheism is
-one sense the grossest of anthropomorphisms. The atheist sees justly
-that God does not act in this world after the manner of man; hence
-he concludes that he does not exist; he would believe if he beheld a
-miracle—in other words, if God acted as a finite force with a determinate
-object in view.’”
-
-“That is good,” said Maddock, “I did not give Renan credit for saying
-such a thing.”
-
-“No,” said Gildea, “you have never got much further in Biblical criticism
-than the Germans. Strauss satisfies you as the great _Against_, and poor
-Westcott as the gigantic _For_!”
-
-They both laughed.
-
-“Come, come,” said Maddock, “you must not poke fun at me!”
-
-“It is impossible,” Gildea answered, “to poke fun at an ecclesiastic who
-calls Heine ‘a great poet and brilliant philosopher.’”
-
-“Ah, you have been reading my last polemic, I see?—Yes, you _must_ have
-been reading it; for no newspaper man would ever think of quoting an
-opinion like that.”
-
-“I have been reading it with admiration and wonder: admiration at its
-excellence as polemical work, and wonder that you should take the
-trouble to castigate a production which you yourself declare to be, as a
-contribution to theological knowledge, utterly useless.”
-
-“Yes, but did I not explain myself? The book is fundamentally vicious.
-It confirms the shallow heterodox in their heterodoxy, the shallow
-orthodox in their orthodoxy. It gives forth light to no one and darkness
-to everyone. Progress in foolishness and stupidity, that is all that it
-signalises; the foolishness of ‘go-aheadism,’ the stupidity of re-action.
-I have no patience with a man of presumable intelligence who could write
-such a book.”
-
-“But do you not think that your attack on it will only, by bringing it
-into public notice, increase its powers of mischief?”
-
-“I hope not. I hope that I have sufficiently laid bare its gross
-ignorance of the subject of which it treats to bring it into that
-contempt whose fruit is oblivion.”
-
-“In England—in London or in any country or capital where there is a
-large intellectual life—this might be so. But am I not right, Doctor,
-in believing that this Victorian Melbourne of yours is a place where
-pure intellectual life scarcely exists? You have the mass of intelligent
-money-makers who care, or who do not care, for things (I will not say
-religious but) sectarian. Then there are those who care for things
-political; but where will you find any number of men who aim at making
-their life the purely intellectual life? They are all partizans here.
-When, therefore, you attack a Rationalist like Judge Parker, all the
-Rationalists rally round him, just as the orthodox rally round you; and
-the result is, as the _Argus_ says, a boxing match, wherein the great
-thing is to at all price shout down their man and shout up your own.
-Truth turns away in disgust from such an exhibition of blind deaf bawling
-partizanary. These men are not of the sort that are open to reason: you
-cannot lay bare to such as these the gross ignorance or perfect science
-of their champion; they will only hiss or applaud as you blame or praise
-him. I may be wrong: my observation of your so-called intelligent public,
-is, you know, necessarily but small.”
-
-Maddock kept silence with rumpled brows. At last:
-
-“I do not know,” he said, “that you are not, after all, to a large degree
-right. We are very narrow here. A thing done in the street is done in the
-city, and indeed in the whole country!”
-
-“And am I not right in thinking that the only two native subjects,
-which are capable of arousing public interest and curiosity here, are
-those which appeal to the two portions of your mass of intelligent
-money-makers—things pertaining to business, and things sectarian?”
-
-The Doctor suddenly regained his humour.
-
-“Are,” he said, the deep humorous smile playing about his mouth, “are all
-the fashionable young men who come out here in yachts as acute observers
-as you, Sir Horace?—But I object to your word sectarian: you should say
-religious. I am quite ready to admit that (to put it as a Melbourne
-printer put it to me the other day) the only subject that will pay for
-book-printing here is Religion, and Religion, alas, in its polemical
-aspect. But I cannot look upon this, as you seem to do, as a great
-misfortune. I—I ... well, I may say _candidly_, that I rather _like_ a
-bit of polemics now and then, and the shouts of the men round the ropes
-do not altogether disgust me, as of course” (his eyebrows went up) “they
-ought to do! No, I do not look upon that purely intellectual life of
-yours as by any means the ideal for us to aim at. It smacks too much of
-dilettantism for _me_!”
-
-Gildea smiled.
-
-“Dear Doctor,” he said, “we all know that you prefer a climate where
-the sky is not always a cloudless vault of blue insipidity. The sound
-and feel of a buffeting wind is pleasant to you. As I said just now,
-you prefer Strauss to Renan, and the good secular Saint Matthew Arnold
-finds small favour in your eyes. Now too that you are taking to science,
-I expect every day to hear you tell us Cuvier was a greater man than
-Darwin, and that Huxley is an impudent young amphioxus that has no place
-beside the dignity of our dear old behemoth, Owen.”
-
-“Now I really won’t let you poke fun at me,” said the Doctor, “I really
-won’t! The next thing is, that you will be saying something rude about
-Professor Mosley and his “Ruling Ideas in Early Ages,” and scoffing at my
-idea of having some of his essays reproduced in our _Daily Telegraph_.”
-
-“Oh no, Doctor, I will not do that. Even Mosley’s essays are better than
-the sermons of the local ecclesiastics.”
-
-“You are very impudent,” said Maddock, his face all beaming, “to call me
-a local ecclesiastic! I shall have to get you to write a pamphlet on my
-review of ‘Religionless Religion,’ so as to be able to denounce you _ex
-cathedra_!”
-
-“Well, I should very much like to do so, only ... you know my cowardice:
-I cannot write——”
-
-“Even letters to your best friends, to explain that you have only gone
-off to sea at an hour’s notice, and are not, as they anxiously expected,
-drowned, or murdered and secreted in some hole in the slums.”
-
-“I prostrated myself in apology to Mrs. Maddock.”
-
-“Yes, in over a week! As for Dr. Maddock, of course such a casual
-acquaintance as _he_ could not expect.... Ah, you are a quite too
-eccentric young man, Sir Horace! I wish you were well married, with a
-definite aim in life. Someday one of your wild freaks will end you, and
-then, what, what will have been the result of those great abilities with
-which God has gifted you?—Now,” proceeded the Doctor, “this is not an
-extract from the _Daily Telegraph_ sermon corner, but only the expression
-of the affectionate anxiety of one who hopes you will allow him to call
-himself your true friend.”
-
-Gildea kept silence for a moment. Talk of this sort only served to show
-him how completely his real inner view of things was unknown to his
-companion, and so the idea of making an answer did not occur to him: he
-felt how useless it would be. Then he genially thanked the Doctor for his
-friendship and its kind wishes, and added lightly:
-
-“You ask what will be the result of, as you are pleased to say, those
-great abilities with which God has gifted me. The result (you perceive
-it) will be nothing; but, Doctor, what, let me ask you, in a hundred
-years will be the result of those great abilities with which God has
-gifted _you_? In the hundred and first year we shall start equal; and
-I, who have not a belief in a personal God and a personal immortality
-as _you_ have, find the whole matter, I confess, rather absurd! This
-would not probably have been so always. If I had lived in the days when
-action indeed contained the highest stakes of life, I should have played
-for them; but, as it is, the highest stakes now belong to the thinker,
-the writer, and I—I cannot write ... even letters! I, like all my
-contemporaries, am more or less under the sad dominion of the perception
-of, what Leopardi calls, the ‘infinita vanità del tutto,’ but, unlike the
-best of them, I have no care for the only immortality we have left, the
-immortality of Art or Science. I think of the hundred, or thousand, or
-million and first year, and find myself smiling.”
-
-Gildea was soliloquising, Maddock forgotten. He had, then, after all,
-drifted into making the answer, the idea of making which had, by reason
-of its clear uselessness, not occurred to him; and yet he had not made
-it to Maddock, but to himself. Maddock, indeed, did not altogether
-understand it, but the feeling of it, the belief that inspired it, he
-felt and hastened to reply to. He laid his hand gently on Gildea’s arm,
-bringing him to a pause, and said simply:
-
-“_Look!_”
-
-They had come down as far as Farm Cove—skirted it, turning off along Lady
-Macquarie’s Walk—then mounted up onto the drive, and, having passed by
-the Chair, were now standing on the brow of the slope with an open view
-of Garden Island (Clark Island being hidden), the harbour, and the woody
-hills behind it. Great deep masses of cloud, luminous-white or here and
-there shaded with that slaty black which denotes incipient rain, were
-moving in the blue vault of the heavens. Light and shade lay everywhere
-in alternate streaks or patches. One round piece of water to the left
-was like a burnished blazing mirror of steel. Other parts were blue,
-gray, or dark, reflecting the cloud-colours above them. The anchored
-ships rose and fell gently, their flags fluttering. A steamer came
-stealing out of one of the harbour arms into the open. The only sounds
-of life were the far-off hammer-strokes of the builders, the occasional
-cry of the white fleeting sea-gulls, the striking of a ship’s bells, the
-cricket humming at their feet.
-
-“And,” Maddock said, in his deep voice of earnestness, “in the face of
-such a scene as this—the free glory of nature so great and so glad,
-the wonderful toil and effort and happiness of mankind—you will say to
-yourself: ‘_There is no soul in me, for there is no God to give it!_’
-Ah, my dear Sir Horace, you surprise and grieve me! Are you not—you, oh
-heavens, _you_!—at heart an atheist? are you not guilty of that grossest
-of anthropomorphisms yourself?”
-
-Gildea smiled, a fine sweet smile of sadness that made even the strong
-steady heart of his companion turn faint for a moment and sick. There was
-something so absolutely inevitably hopeless, as it seemed to Maddock, in
-this strange soul that he saw before him, now for the first time laid
-bare. Here was a patient for which the physician felt he had no power
-of healing or even alleviation. What view of christian faith and hope
-and love did not this strange soul know? Maddock, for the first time in
-his life, felt himself in the presence of one, the breadth and depth
-and height of whose spiritual experience encompassed him like an ocean.
-The words of remonstrance died on his lips: exhortation lay lifeless in
-him: silence and sorrow possessed him. He turned away with a heavy sigh,
-a sigh which was the unconscious acknowledgment to himself that life
-and death, time and eternity, man and God, could indeed be read in two
-diametrically different ways. For the first time in his life he realized
-the truth of “the Everlasting No” in a human soul greater than his own.
-
-They walked on together for a little in silence. Then Gildea said as
-simply and naturally as if nothing unusual had happened:
-
-“Now, Doctor, tell me will you come and have lunch with me? Mrs. Maddock,
-you say, has shaken you off for the sake of a long morning with Lady
-Whitfield, and why should you not retort on her spinster’s déjeuner with
-a bachelor’s lunch? I ought to have thought of it before.”
-
-The Doctor again suddenly regained his humour.
-
-“Thank you,” he said, “I shall be charmed.”
-
-“Nay,” said Gildea, smiling, “but I must bid you pause a moment, aimless
-dreamer that I am, and tell you who you will meet there. Perhaps you will
-want your assent back again.”
-
-“Speak on,” said Maddock, “and, provided it is not some one who will
-object to my smoking afterwards, I ... I don’t think I shall!”
-
-“The guests, then, are three in number. Firstly, James Alcock, who, they
-tell me, is the most secular and scientific member of all the Australian
-Legislative Assemblies——”
-
-“Go on,” said Maddock.
-
-“Doctor,” Gildea said, “he reads Haeckel and swears by no other prophet
-of Science. Pause before it is too late. They say too that he sleeps
-every saturday and sunday with Mill “On Liberty” under his pillow, and
-all Spencer’s “Principles” strewed about the counterpane. He knew my
-father years ago in England, and his heart warms towards me as towards an
-incipient disciple.”
-
-“Secondly—”
-
-“Secondly, Francis Fitzgerald, a young man learned with all the learning
-of the Egyptians; a pilgrim and devotee at that simple west-England
-shrine which holds the Catholic pearl beyond all price, John Henry
-Newman; a scholar of the Parisian seminaries; a pupil of the inner Jesuit
-circle—”
-
-“Thirdly—”
-
-“Frank Hawkesbury, the young Australian poet; a Socialist, delighting in
-Trades-Unions, Religious Revivals (the Salvation Army is a hobby of his),
-and Secular Organizations with a grand impartiality! Nay, it is even
-whispered that he had dealings with Holden and the Irish and Continental
-Nihilists two years ago in London. Our friend Mrs. Medwin almost fainted
-when Sydney Medwin asked her if she would care to know him.”
-
-“I have looked through one of the young man’s books of poems,” Maddock
-said, serenely, “and rather liked them. He is in earnest. Your lunch
-will be amusing.—It smacks to me,” he added, with a touch of grimness
-in his humour, “a little of those shows one sees now and then at the
-street-corners. They call them, I believe, happy families.”
-
-Gildea laughed.
-
-“Yes, Doctor,” he said, “but what if the animals should take to fighting?
-Alas, then, for the canaries and the mice, who will be worried and eaten
-by the dogs and the cats.”
-
-“Which are who, or who are which?”
-
-“Let us say that Alcock is a dog, and Fitzgerald a canary.”
-
-“Then _you_, I suppose, are the mouse and _I_ the cat? But what is your
-young Australian poet to be? You have left him out.”
-
-“Oh, he will be a rabbit. You will see that he can burrow. It is the
-forte of Socialists, burrowing.—Now,” he proceeded, “we must go this way
-if we are to get to my rooms in time. And as we go, will you let me first
-express some tentative thoughts of mine, and then ask you a few questions
-about your friend Mr. Parker and yourself?”
-
-“Ask on,” said Maddock, getting into step, “and I will do my best to
-answer you.”
-
-
-II.
-
-“It is about this little book of his,” Gildea said, with slow
-reflectiveness, “‘Religionless Religion.’ I found it interesting.”
-
-“Indeed?” said Maddock, “As interesting as the production of your dear
-continental sceptics?”
-
-“Well now,” Gildea said, in a tone that implied a certain amount of
-candour, “to tell, what the French call, the true truth, I was struck
-by several things both in it and in your reply to it. I thought that it
-would have been difficult to have found a more typical example of the
-average intelligent secular view of theological Christianity than that of
-our good Judge.”
-
-“I agree with you, and that was one of the reasons that made me decide to
-attack it. It is typical.”
-
-“And, therefore, to anyone who is, though only as an amateur, an observer
-of things contemporary, it is interesting. Its very deficiencies will be
-instructive. Well, what I want you to do, Doctor, if you will be so good,
-is to help me with your superior knowledge of the things treated of to
-arrive at the spiritual condition of the treater. Perhaps you will not
-find the attempt too uninteresting, or....” He paused with a movement of
-courtesy.
-
-Maddock, who had a faint suspicion that Gildea was mocking, half grumbled
-out humorously:
-
-“Go on, then! Qualify yourself as a psychologist, my dear fellow, and
-then we will have a plunge into social metaphysics. It is refreshing in a
-country where they are all partizans, and Matthew Arnold and the purely
-intellectual life are not appreciated. _Sic itur ad astra._ In the name
-of all the lucidities, forward!”
-
-“In the first place, then, we have to notice, have we not, that the
-little book is polemical, which, at any rate to the amateur observer of
-things contemporary, detracts somewhat from its historical value; for,
-after all, is not a polemist, to a large extent a man who defends the
-delusions of his friends against the delusions of his enemies, and leaves
-Truth, like the proverbial pounds, to look after herself? But, if we
-always remember to take off a percentage for the polemics, we need not
-miss what it is that the polemist really means and feels?”
-
-“Πως γαρ οὐ?” said Maddock.
-
-“And the more easily, as our Parker is in earnest about, what he calls,
-‘his most serious and difficult task.’”
-
-“Forensic flourishes!”
-
-“—In earnest as far as suits the disposition of a theistic polemist.”
-
-“—Microscopically, that is to say. The lawyer’s, and especially the
-successful lawyer’s, habit of thought tends towards earnestness as the
-sparks fly downwards.”
-
-“For the average lawyer’s habit of thought is perhaps the most typical
-example of the average intelligent secular view of things. Is it not
-the final fruit of what is called common-sense, that is to say of the
-sense of common people? Our good Judge more than once speaks of himself
-and his audience as “persons of ordinary common-sense,” as opposed to
-“metaphysicians,” and especially “ecclesiastical metaphysicians.” He
-wants clear solid statements which his mind can see, and as it were,
-touch and handle. He scoffs at all statements other than these, looking
-upon them as at bottom sophistical. It follows that, when he comes to
-criticise the Bible, he claims the right to criticise it, not only with
-the same spirit, but with the same manner, as he would criticise any
-other book. He will not only look at it straight, fearlessly, logically,
-but he will demand of its statements that they be clear and solid, that
-they bear the ordinary interpretation of ordinary statements. He will
-apply the same principles of examination to Moses and Jesus as he would
-do to Blackstone or Chitty. And all the secular persons of ordinary
-common-sense cry out: ‘Hear, hear!’”
-
-“With the Judge,” said Maddock, “a metaphysician is a man who examines
-the Bible by the aid of principles other than those of one who is
-ignorant of all contemporary history save that which the Bible gives him.”
-
-“The consequence of which is, that he is capable of such a statement as,
-that ‘without question early Christianity was far more free from paganism
-and from the taint of superstition than the Christianity of our own
-time,’ and others of a like force.”
-
-“He has no notion whatever of the philosophy of history—of, what I call,
-the development of divine Truth.”
-
-“And yet he is contradictory enough, while asserting the degradation
-of the Christian ideal, to lay much stress on the development of
-Divine truth in a civilization that has, till comparatively lately,
-been Christianic. Yes, he sees the development of divine Truth, but
-he does not understand the forms which that development has taken in
-Christianity. The Trinity—the Atonement—the Deity of Christ—are to him
-‘mere crude superstitions which disfigure and obscure pure and true
-religion.’ It never seems to have occurred to him that, although these
-doctrines may be empty formulæ to him, they were and are passionate
-realities to others.”
-
-“That is very true.”
-
-“He will talk with the same ignorance of what he would call Jesuolatry
-as a Protestant will of what he calls Mariolatry, neither he nor the
-Protestant understanding any more of a deep spiritual truth than its
-cut-and-dried dogmatical letter.” The Doctor assented, though with a
-movement of slight qualification.
-
-“We agree at starting, then, that his criticism as that of an historical
-Bible student does not exist. The authorities he quotes are, as you point
-out in your Reply, ludicrous. They culminate in his poor little some
-‘celebrated Unitarian minister’ or other, than whom the habit of thought
-of the legal Biblical critic can, it is to be hoped, no further go! He
-is too, we agree, careless and superficial even in his own style, but
-we must not lay too much stress on individual cases of this in the face
-of his request for ‘indulgence’ for his ‘doubtless many imperfections
-here.’”
-
-“When a man speaks publicly of such a grave matter as religion,” said
-Maddock, “he should _not_ be careless, he should _not_ be superficial! We
-have a right to demand of those who make explosives, that they, at any
-rate, do not smoke in the magazine.”
-
-“True; but, if we all got our deserts, who, you know, should
-escape whipping? Certainly not the producers of orthodox religious
-literature.”—(The Doctor, after a pause, assented as before).—“Well,
-we will proceed further against our good Judge, and say that his
-appreciation of what is, as he says, ‘good and ennobling’ is ludicrously
-inadequate. What can be said of a man who seriously speaks of Jesus,
-‘when, in the garden of Gethsemane, he went apart and prayed, three
-times over, the same prayer to God, within a short period,’—of Jesus
-thus ‘_doing that which he told his disciples not to do—“use not vain_
-repetitions, _as the heathen do,” for the reason that your heavenly
-Father knoweth what things ye have need of_ before _ye_ ask _Him_.’
-Habemus confitentem asinum! We can only burst out laughing: a reply to
-such a statement is impossible! The lawyer’s habit of thought is at its
-apogee, and (as Heine says) ‘_Gegen die Dummheit kämpfen wir Götter
-selbst vergebens._’—Against stupidity the very gods themselves struggle
-in vain.” The Doctor assented smiling.
-
-“And statements similar to this are not scarce here. Our good Judge,
-then, has not, it is clear, much experience of the spiritual life, of
-those who live in the spirit. The ‘sudden conversion of Paul,’ for
-instance, strikes him as one of the (it is supposed) ‘improbabilities so
-forcible that no sane _thinking_ man or woman can accept’ the inspiration
-of the Scriptures which relate them. Now, any one who knows anything
-of human nature other than that of ‘persons of ordinary common-sense,’
-knows that such ‘sudden conversions’ are not only not improbable, but
-passably frequent. In some cases, as in that of Staniforth, quoted by
-Arnold in his ‘St. Paul and Protestantism,’ the circumstances approach
-so closely to those of Paul’s that we are enabled to assign to them a
-definite place in the science of psychology. Nor are our good Judge’s
-‘errors,’ as you say, exhausted yet. We have still to bring against him
-the charge of, what Celsus calls, κουφοτης, and Arnold translates ‘want
-of intellectual seriousness.’ So confused and incoherent is his knowledge
-of the real position that the secular biblical critic takes up, that he
-absolutely calls the position taken up by the orthodox biblical critic
-(that is to say, biblical _critics_ who are orthodox; as, for instance,
-you yourself, my dear Doctor): he absolutely calls this position
-critically ‘untenable,’ not perceiving that it is his own only differing
-in degree!—This is simply appalling! The κουφοτης of the Secularists is
-not a whit better, after all, than that of the Christians!”
-
-“Yes,” said Maddock, disregarding the last remark, “but then you must
-remember that the Judge ‘does not intend to resort to any process of
-subtle argument, nor to make any display of scholastic knowledge, nor to
-indulge in learned disquisitions.’ He merely writes ‘popular, clear, and
-simple’ nonsense for ‘the doubter who is trying to grope his way to the
-light, but cannot; to the Atheist who believes in nothing, neither in a
-Supreme Power, nor in a future life.’ And your secular ingratitude to
-him, Sir Horace, strikes me, I must confess, as keener-toothed than the
-winter wind of orthodoxy!”
-
-“Doctor,” said Sir Horace, “you are poking fun at me! But I, who am, as
-Shelley said of himself ‘rather serious’—I proceed in my examination,
-whose sole confirmation as truth I find in your words or gestures of
-approval. You will, I hope, forgive me for any repetition I may make of
-your own criticism, as a master should a humble disciple? It is only a
-proof of attention and admiration.”
-
-“Go on,” said Maddock, “mocker!”
-
-“All these faults, then, which we have remarked in our good Judge—his
-polemically; his ignorance of the grammar (or, perhaps, as your Reply
-says, the alphabet) of historical criticism; his ludicrously inadequate
-conception of the good and the ennobling, of the spiritual calibre of
-such men as, for instance, St. Paul; his superficial acquaintance with
-the data of the subject of which it is treating; and, finally, his
-κουφοτης, his want of intellectual seriousness—all these faults, are we
-not agreed, are the faults of the average intelligent secular view, in
-its negative consideration of Christian Theology? The question that now
-arises is, has this view nothing but faults?—has it no excellencies?
-Does there remain, after the attack on it of so admirable a theological
-polemist as Dr. Maddock is, no residuum of real and vital truth?
-Let us try and see.—To begin with, did we not find that, despite a
-contradiction, our good Judge perceived the reality of, what you so
-finely call, the development of divine Truth?—
-
- “_Yet I doubt not thro’ the ages one increasing purpose runs,_
- _and the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns._”
-
-“No,” said Maddock, “I cannot grant him even that! A faint glimmering of
-a thing cannot be called a perception. Consider this very contradiction
-of his! Consider, again, his unspeakably gross and ignorant treatment of
-the Old Testament which he brands with blood-thirstiness and impurity. He
-works by a rule of thumb. The higher spiritual mathematics are mere names
-to him. He is—I must declare—too much of a blockhead to ever rise beyond
-the spiritual Rule of Three.”
-
-“I agree to a large extent, dear Doctor; but you will admit, I think,
-that even the Rule of Three is not without its use, without its real and
-vital truth?”
-
-“Not when the schoolboy cannot use it properly! I have pointed out, for
-example, that, in attacking the doctrine of the Divine Sonship, he only
-attacks a dummy doctrine of his own. Your schoolboy does not know which
-of the three is his third quantity! He wants, then, to be whipped and put
-onto the dunce’s stool—to encourage the others!” The Doctor spoke for the
-first time with a little testiness.
-
-“Be it so,” Gildea said, “our good Judge is not to be allowed more than a
-faint glimmering of that fine theory of ours of the world’s unseen τελος.
-The ‘divine far-off event’ is not more than a fog-lamp to him, which he
-will not, then, mistake for the moon, or its light for moonshine. But
-that he is too much of a blockhead to even rise beyond the spiritual
-rule of thumb, the spiritual Rule of Three, seems to me, I confess, dear
-Doctor ... well, a rather strong statement. The average intelligent
-secular view of things is, is it not, less pedantic, less given to
-accepting the conventional value of things as their true value, than the
-average intelligent orthodox view? Are not, indeed, these tears a most
-convincing proof of it? Is it not just because our good Judge refuses,
-for instance, to accept the orthodox view of Jesus and of God that he
-wrote his little book, and you replied to it? Now the orthodox view of
-God is, if you will let me say so, excessively pedantic: it adheres to
-the expressions of a belief in which in its heart it does _not_ believe
-at all. Parker’s criticism on this is excellent. ‘It is impossible,’ he
-says, ‘to lay down any definition of God which will even satisfy man’s
-conception of God.’ What, then, is the good, he asks, of holding up this
-‘magnified non-natural man’ of yours, and asking me to fall down and
-worship it? Common-sense revolts against such an idea and common-sense,
-dear Doctor, is, will you not agree, for once right?”
-
-“You surprise me, Sir Horace,” said Maddock. “Are you too going to spend
-your time and trouble in demolishing the survivals of verbal inspiration?”
-
-“Certainly _not_! I am only trying to see wherein common-sense is a safe
-guide as a biblical critic. We are agreed, then,—you, that is, the Judge
-and I—that we must unite in opposing many of ‘the statements which,’ as
-the Judge says, ‘the orthodox are pleased to call evidence.’ Because, for
-instance (to continue with the Judge’s own words), ‘the fallible man Paul
-says in a letter to Timothy that the Scriptures were inspired, it does
-not make them so.’ We are agreed here?”
-
-“We are agreed here,” said Maddock, with deliberation.
-
-“Or again, to take another instance, when Matthew and Luke, for whatever
-purpose, strive in their genealogical tables ‘to give Jesus’ (I always
-use the Judge’s words) ‘a divine origin, conceived of a virgin by the
-Holy Ghost, and yet to connect him with David by making Joseph the
-natural father of Jesus.’—are we not here faced by two ideas which ‘no
-one short of an ecclesiastical metaphysician,’ or, as you say, a ‘very
-bad critic,’ would or could ‘reconcile?’—We are still agreed, of course.”
-
-“We are still agreed—to a certain extent.”
-
-“Nay, let us go further, then, and chime in with the Judge to the effect
-that ‘on far stronger evidence (if evidence it can be called) than that
-which supports’—let us say, almost all—‘of the events or miracles’ of
-the Scriptures, ‘the Roman Catholic Church propound to the world their
-miracles,’ which ‘the Protestant section of Christianity reject as
-incredulous.’”
-
-“Proceed,” said Maddock.
-
-“Nay, let us go further still, and notice how we no longer look on the
-Genesis account of the Creation as more than allegory, of the Flood as
-being strictly accurate; of the tower of Babel as, again, more than
-allegory, and so on in many other similar cases. And how in the same way
-we do not look upon the statements of Christ, and after him of the author
-of the ‘Revelations,’ of the close approach of the Apocalypse, as literal
-but only figurative. ‘The statement of Jesus,’ as the Judge puts it, ‘as
-to his coming again before the then generation have passed away does not
-mean that he will so come: ‘generation’ being merely used figuratively,
-but when he does come he is still to come in the clouds of heaven, and
-with great glory, sounds of trumpets, rushings of winds, and mourning
-of tribes; for’ (Gildea paused)—‘all this has not yet been falsified by
-the event.’ This is, I think, undoubtedly the conclusion at which common
-sense arrives, but common sense is of course wrong.”
-
-“Common-sense is wrong,” said Maddock.
-
-“Common-sense too, as exemplified in this its typical blockhead
-who cannot ever rise beyond the spiritual Rule of thumb and Three;
-common-sense observes of the development of divine Truth, as exemplified
-in the Christian theology of yesterday and to-day, that its ‘golden
-rule apparently is to adopt those interpretations’ of its Scriptures
-‘which best satisfy the exigency of the particular position of the time
-being,’ and thus we have no further guarantee that the God of to-day
-will be the God of to-morrow than that the God of yesterday is certainly
-not the God of to-day. ‘Heaven forgive me,’ exclaims ‘that great poet
-and brilliant philosopher,’ Heine, ‘but I often feel as if the Mosaic
-God were but a reflected image of Moses himself.’ And we all remember
-with what contempt Taine speaks of this God of Christianity, revised
-and amended to suit the latest edition of scientific and historical
-discovery—rooted up out of the earth and momentary intercourse with
-man—driven out of the clouds and the occasional interposition of his
-strong right hand—spied and telescoped from the radiant bowers of the
-stars, and finally lodged out of sight, and all but out of mind, in the
-eternal infinitudes of Time and Space! After all, then, may not our good
-Judge have had, not of course a perception, but a faint glimmering, of
-sapience, when he spoke of the position taken up by the orthodox biblical
-criticism as critically ‘not only untenable, but absolutely suicidal?’
-The thought is, as we agreed before, simply appalling. Spirits of Butler,
-Paley, Neander, Weiss, Westcott, Lightfoot, and many another mortal or
-immortal immortal, rise and thunder ‘_No!_’ When this exponent of the
-average secular intelligence declares that contemporary Theology is an
-impossible compromise between Reason and Absurdity; that the Protestant
-is quite inconsistent who with one face rejects ‘the events or miracles
-propounded by the Roman Catholic Church because they involve a violation
-or suspension of unvarying natural laws; because such things do not
-happen, and because _reason_ refuses to give credence to them,’ and with
-another face accepts as truth the sojourn of Jonah in the belly of some
-sea-monster (at present conveniently extinct, even to the bones), or the
-communications of, what Gordon describes as,
-
- ‘that duffer at walls,
- the talkative roadster of Balaam:—’
-
-rise, I say, and in Olympian accents demonstrate to him and his benighted
-audience, that these were but links ‘in the development of divine Truth,’
-and that ‘one lesson at a time of this difficult kind was enough, and as
-history shows more than enough, for human weakness.’”
-
-“You are a treacherous and malicious young man,” said Maddock, laughing
-in spite of himself, “and have no right to quote my words in such an
-irreverent and grotesque manner!”
-
-“It is my orthodox ingratitude,” said Gildea, “—And yet,” he added
-suddenly, with a complete change of tone and manner, “in less than fifty
-years polemics like these will be looked upon as childish, and, those who
-spent their life and energy upon them, as we now look on the mediæval
-Schoolmen. It is a sad thought.”
-
-Maddock was a little puzzled at these swift chameleon changes in his
-friend.
-
-“And now,” said Gildea, looking up with yet another change of tone and
-manner, “and now we have done with the negative side of the good Judge’s
-criticism and can turn to the affirmative.—But that,” he added, “must, I
-am afraid, be after lunch—if you will, Doctor?”
-
-“I will,” said Maddock, “and you shall not then find me so passive, for
-your treachery and malice are now quite laid bare to me.”
-
-Gildea smiled.
-
-“But not my loyalty and admiration? Believe me, Doctor, that, if it were
-only for this one remark of yours, I could never fail in my interest and
-gratitude to you. ‘Our blackfellows,’ you say, ‘had no punishment for
-offences against their elementary ideas of purity but spearing. _And
-it was infinitely better that they should spear for impurity than lose
-their first step towards a higher life._’ ... But here we are,” he said,
-“This is the house. Fitzgerald and Hawkesbury have to leave us soon
-after lunch. Mrs. Medwin and her niece, Miss Medwin, are coming later
-to make tea for me, and then we are going out for a sail in the yacht.
-Mr. Medwin is thinking of a legislative career, and so Alcock is to be
-cultivated. Can you come with us? You know how pleased it would make us
-all.”
-
-The Doctor explained that he was due at his hotel at half-past three to
-meet Mrs. Maddock, and both he and Gildea expressed their due regrets at
-his not being able to make one of the party on the yacht.
-
-
-III.
-
-Gildea led the way upstairs and ushered Maddock into the sitting-room. It
-was in reality two rooms joined together by a large folding-door, which
-was now thrown open and draped with four looped-up curtains, two of some
-dark-red material behind two of delicately-wrought muslin. The two rooms
-were of the whole depth of the house, the large bay-windows, open and
-with a glass-door in the middle of them open also, at one end looking
-out over the city, at the other over the harbour. A grass-slope, and a
-garden with flower-beds and rustling trees, spread all round and down to
-the water’s edge; while, a little way out, the “Petrel” rode at peaceful
-anchorage, her boat behind her. Maddock was for the moment so taken up
-with the beauty of the place within and without—the room with all its
-harmonies of form and colour, the garden and harbour scene—that he did
-not notice that someone was standing, half hidden by the curtains, in
-the next room on the hearth-rug. Then Gildea passed through and greeted
-this person whom he brought forward and introduced to Maddock as Mr.
-Hawkesbury.
-
-Hawkesbury was a small but well-made man with a tendency to muscular
-leanness. His face was striking and interesting, and betrayed a
-strongly-defined individuality. At one moment he might have been called
-handsome, and his manner frank, free, and open: at another his features
-took such a contracted intensified look, and his movements were so
-nervously acute, that the whole man seemed to have suffered distortion.
-It seemed as if he were suddenly seized by some keen pain, spiritual and
-physical, and was being racked by it. When Gildea entered, there was
-for a moment a trace of this latter manner in Hawkesbury: his sensitive
-pride found something antagonistic in, what seemed to him, the consummate
-luxury which surrounded him and even in the consummate culture of its
-owner: he was almost asking himself what right this man had to spend so
-much money and care in decorating a few rooms for a few months, this
-man whose life was so radically selfish? Hawkesbury’s was, he might
-have said, the feeling of one who was a socialist and worker by intense
-conviction, finding himself opposed to one who was an aristocrat and
-hedonist by the mere chance of birth and fortune. But, when Gildea met
-and greeted him with the frank sweet unconscious cordiality of an equal
-whose acquaintance is pleasant, the dark look passed from Hawkesbury’s
-face and he gave himself up to the simple pleasure of the situation.
-His unexpected introduction to Maddock, who represented to him the more
-or less sumptuous aristocrat of religion, for a moment, it is true,
-threatened to bring back the evil spirit to him; but Maddock, with his
-fine social tact, almost divining the state of affairs, was equally
-frank, sweet, unconscious and cordial in his manner, and Hawkesbury was
-at his ease.
-
-The three men stood talking together, Maddock in the middle, in the
-bay-window that looked out over the harbour.
-
-“Why, Sir Horace,” said Maddock, “you will never be able to get away from
-this enchanting place again! Are you sure you do not intend to make it
-into a home? You did not honour your Melbourne rooms with such care—such
-choice of furniture, and....” (He raised his arm and outspread hand,
-smiling humorously).
-
-“‘Man delights not me,’” answered Gildea, “‘No, nor woman neither, though
-by your smiling you seem to say so.’” The smile broke out on Hawkesbury’s
-face too. It was soothing and very pleasant to find these two talking in
-his presence of such an intimate matter as that alluded to here: he was
-not accustomed, in the company of, what in Australia and even England
-goes by the name of, ladies and gentlemen to this complete absence of
-social and individual constraint.
-
-Then Edgar, Gildea’s valet, ushered in someone else, Mr. Fitzgerald, and
-there was a movement and introductions between Maddock, Hawkesbury, and
-the new-comer, the three being left alone for a moment while Gildea was
-giving some directions to Edgar about domestic arrangements.
-
-Maddock and Fitzgerald fell almost immediately into a conversation,
-Hawkesbury playing the part of silent member. The Doctor was interested
-in finding out what the impressions of a cultured Roman Catholic were
-of Australia and more particularly of Victoria and New South Wales.
-He asked a few questions, the answer to which, he thought, would show
-him whether Fitzgerald had observed things with care and sympathy, and
-was answered with a gentle readiness that pleased and satisfied him.
-The two men felt themselves to a certain extent on common ground, and,
-Fitzgerald touching incidentally on the education question, they began to
-parallelise each other’s views with cordiality.
-
-“We quite recognise,” said Fitzgerald, “all the difficulties of
-the case—the danger of the unfair influence of catholic teaching
-over protestant children, or vice versa, just as each happens to be
-stronger in the particular place and school. But we would accept this
-danger—accept it, even supposing we were the losers by it—rather than
-have the present state of things continue. As our Archbishop said only
-the other day at Leichardt: ‘Besides the faculties of intellect and of
-reason, there are certain passions of the soul,’ and to develop the
-former and wholly neglect the latter is to send a boy out into the world
-with _only one eye_. You have prepared him for the temporary business of
-life, and unfitted him for the glorious service of eternity: you have
-given his ship fine sails, and forgotten to add a rudder! He may be an
-acute man of business, but he will be a bad citizen; for, in taking away
-from him his sense of religion, you will take away from him his sense of
-morality, of honesty, of integrity! We can, at the present stage, see for
-Australia no future save that of corruption—a corrupt political life, a
-corrupt national life, the unlimited worship of Mammon!”
-
-“I agree with you to a large extent,” said Maddock, “and we all know
-that, practically speaking, the talk about ‘religious education at home’
-is mere verbiage. If the education of a child is secular, his spiritual
-lungs, so to speak, end in being able to inhale no other air and thrive
-on it.”
-
-“And,” Fitzgerald said, “the education _is_ secular! Every effort is
-being made to drive the voluntary schools out of the field. Their state
-aid here in New South Wales is withdrawn: in England it is reduced to
-a pittance and hedged about with annoyance. And this, although the
-educational reports, drawn up by a secular commission, show that, at
-any rate the catholic schools educate on the average both better and
-more cheaply than the state-schools do! We only ask for fair play, and
-now it has come to this pass that we cannot get it! All over England
-the protestant voluntary schools are failing and disappearing. But we,
-we Catholics, who cannot, as Protestants do, console ourselves with the
-reflection that the atmosphere of the state-schools, if secular, will be
-tempered by that of our own beliefs—we _will_ not fail and disappear! We
-are the poorest of all religious bodies in England; but I will venture
-to say, that not a single case can be found of a catholic school which
-has surrendered itself up, as these others did, into the hands of the
-Secularists. Our educating priests and laymen have to suffer much
-privation: I know, shall I say hundreds, of them who deny themselves all
-but the bare necessities of life; but—_we stand our ground_!... You see,”
-he added smiling gently, “we Catholics cannot labour under any delusion
-here. We recognize that this is a stupendous crisis in the world’s
-history. We will have no compromise and secular tempering of the wind to
-the shorn Christian. We will stand to our guns, and, if we must perish,
-perish there!”
-
-Maddock was impressed, and so even was Hawkesbury. This man’s enthusiasm
-was so quiet, so clear, and yet so radiant. Gildea returned and joined
-them.
-
-“We were speaking of the popular education,” said Fitzgerald, turning to
-him, “and I would persuade Dr. Maddock that his cause and ours are here
-identic.”
-
-“I need no persuading,” said Maddock, “I have for some time been
-persuading _myself_!”
-
-“And yet,” Fitzgerald put in gently, “the alliance between us and you
-seems farther off than between us and the Dissenters.”
-
-“And that, I think,” Gildea said, “is because you have more in common.
-You are afraid of one another. In the one case, you know that the
-frontier of your alliance will be observed, in the other there is a
-chance that it may not. At present the most dangerous opponents of
-Catholicism in England are, what they call, the High Churchmen. The
-Church of England is a compromise between Catholicism and Protestantism;
-hence its adaptiveness, hence its strength! It more nearly, in my
-opinion, approaches ideal Christianity than any other sect in existence.
-It unites the Faith, the Poetry, of Catholicism, with the Freedom, the
-Prose, of Protestantism.”
-
-“We thank you,” said Maddock.
-
-“Logically speaking, however,” added Gildea, “it is an absurdity.”
-
-They all began to laugh.
-
-“Ah,” said Maddock, “I was right when, even while thanking you, Sir
-Horace, I thought to myself: _Timeo Danaos, et dona ferentes_.”
-
-“The Christianity of the Future,” Gildea proceeded gravely, “lies, I
-believe, in two transformations—in Catholicism learning that its kingdom
-is not of this world, that it no longer requires a Pope, a Rome, as a
-Palladium whereby it may fight; in a word, in learning the lesson of
-Protestantism, of Freedom: and in Protestantism doing the converse, and
-absorbing into itself the catholic Faith, the catholic Poetry!”
-
-“And what are the Secularists going to do in your Future?” asked
-Hawkesbury, “are Messrs. Arnold and Huxley to be put up on a shelf in
-your spiritual Museum, in two large spirit bottles, labelled respectively
-‘Culture’ and ‘Science?’”
-
-“Culture,” answered Gildea, “is, after all, but Secular Catholicism, just
-as Science is but Secular Protestantism. They too will each learn their
-lesson of the other.”
-
-“Humph!” said Maddock, who again had a faint suspicion that Gildea was
-mocking, “and so, after all, Sir Horace is an optimist.”
-
-“We do not lay stress,” Fitzgerald said gently, “on the temporal power
-of the Holy Father. As Sir Horace implied, this temporal power was once
-the one shining light in a chaotic world, and it was well that it should
-be set on a hill. But now the light is diffusing itself. It is our
-wish that, as the Vatican Œcumenical Council declared: ‘Intelligence,
-Knowledge, and Wisdom may grow and perfect themselves—as much with the
-mass as with individuals, with one man as with the whole church!’ We are
-no foes to Freedom. What we _are_ foes to, is Anarchy! At the Reformation
-you gave the right of deciding on the deepest religious questions to
-every ignorant man that chose to discuss them, and the seamless robe of
-Christianity was rent into a hundred pieces! Look at all these miserable
-little protestant sects and sub-sects, Plymouth Brethren, Primitive
-Methodists, Ana-baptists, and I know not what noisy, ignorant fanatics.
-At the Revolution, you did the same for social questions, and what is
-the result? The Dynamiters of Russia, of Germany, of Ireland, initiated
-by what you, Dr. Maddock, so well call ‘such gentleness as was revealed
-in the diabolical deeds of the Commune,’—to say nothing of those of the
-Reign of Terror.”
-
-Maddock half-deprecated, half-approved by a gesture and an inarticulate
-sound.
-
-“Yes, but,” said Hawkesbury with the thrilled voice of suppressed
-passion, “has not history justified the Reformation? and how can you say
-that it will not justify the Revolution? These, as it seems to me, are
-the two fiery portals which lead to Religious and Social Liberty. But you
-are right to depreciate them: they knew nothing of the poetry of Culture
-and Catholicism, or of the prose of Protestantism and Science. They were
-volcanic eruptions of the People. Heine says well, when he talks of ‘the
-divine brutality’ of Luther, and we do not shrink from the same phrase
-for Hugo or Whitman. Sir Horace has painted us a Future which is indeed
-heavenly. It is thronged with sweet-singing angels, and there is not a
-shadow in its perfect light. But what has become of the _men_, and what,
-O what, has become of the _devils_? They have no place in this Future.
-You do not care for the People, I say, except as you care for your dog
-which, if he is quiet and docile, shall have a kennel and the bones and
-scraps from your table; or, if he is surly, shall be chained up; or, if
-he goes mad, shall be shot! Ah believe me, gentlemen, the People _has_
-a place in the Future, for the People, and none other, _is_ the Future!
-‘_All for the modern_,’ cries Whitman, ‘_all for the average man of
-to-day_.’ But you—you only care for the Upper and the Middle-class. Your
-scheme of civilization does not reach to the People. The Upper-class is
-exhausted: it needs invigorating. ‘_Cultivate the Middle-class_,’ is the
-cry, ‘_Give us Higher Education for the Middle-class!_’ This is the whole
-social teaching of the best representative man you have, Matthew Arnold.
-Now we, we Socialists as you call us, _love_ the People, and (you will
-pardon me) _hate_ the Middle-class;—the dispossessed, the sufferers,
-_not_ the possessors, the usurpers! The People is the Prodigal Son. What
-sympathy have we, then, with a man like Arnold who has devoted himself
-to the edification of the Elder Brother? Arnold says once that he has
-evolved that perfect style of his which we know so well—that style which
-encloses a minimum of ideas in a maximum of catch-words—or, as he likes
-to call it, ‘plain popular exposition’—for the especial benefit of the
-British Philistine, the divine Middle-class, who otherwise could not be
-got to read him! He would have done better, perhaps, if he had not turned
-to the setting, but to the rising sun. The People are the masters of the
-Future, and the People’s great men will be the great men of the Future.”
-
-There was a pause. Then:
-
-“There is much truth in what Mr. Hawkesbury says,” says Gildea, “Just at
-present we think too much of the ultimate Culture of the Middle-class
-and too little of that of the People. But the fact is, that the question
-of the Middle-class is pressing: they are, as you say, Hawkesbury, the
-possessors; they are the Present! And this, I think, is why men like
-Arnold, who believe that, in the organization of the Present, lies
-the only hope of the success of the Future, are so anxious about it.
-It is a case, as he believes, of ‘Culture or Anarchy’—Culture now or
-Anarchy then. And Carlyle, a disciple of whom Mr. Hawkesbury has, in
-the admirable Preface to his second book of Poems, declared himself to
-be; Carlyle too, who laid much stress on what he calls ‘the radical
-element’ in himself, yet mocks at ‘Mill and Co.’ as he says, in whom he
-declares the opposite element was ‘so miserably lacking.’ Carlyle had no
-respect for ‘Rousseau fanaticisms,’ even in a man like Mazzini: he saw
-that, if the Middle-class were purblind and slow, the Socialists were
-only purblind and quick. Supposing that we grant that the Dynamiters
-of Russia are justified in meeting an absolutely dense despotism with
-violence, what excuse but impatience can we find for the Dynamiters of
-Ireland? The first have no means of free agitation, the second have every
-means. Ireland has been wronged: no one denies it; and never, in the
-whole course of her history, has England shown such alacrity as she is
-doing now to right the wrong; never, not even for herself. But the Irish
-Socialists are impatient: their cry is for everything to-day, this very
-hour! To grant it them would be the greatest unkindness possible. Well,
-they too have taken to dynamite as a hypochondriac takes to opium. The
-Russian Nihilists are noble people, none nobler, but they taught fools
-and knaves an appalling lesson when they inaugurated the reign of terror
-in Petersburg. At the present moment, as Heine clearly foresaw, the
-Civilization, not of Europe, but of the whole world is in danger.”
-
-“You speak well, Sir Horace,” said Maddock, “and express my opinions
-better than I could myself, but—_Timeo_.”
-
-He, Gildea, and Fitzgerald smiled. Hawkesbury was grave. There was a
-pause. Then:
-
-“I think,” he said, “that you do the People wrong. These extreme
-Socialists, the Nihilists as they are called, are not from the People,
-but from the Middle-class. They are, as a rule, men who have received the
-best education of the time, and who yet find themselves unrecognized and
-unrewarded. Most of them are journalists. It would astonish you, I think,
-to see the amount of really first-rate talent that is being flogged to
-death in the shafts of the modern Press. These men cannot work in shops
-and banks: the narrow material life has been made impossible to them.
-The only opening for the life they would—nay, that they _must_ live, or
-perish, is that of Literature. Literature caters for the Middle-class,
-the ruling class. These men, then, are the slaves of the great caterers,
-the newspaper editors. One of the most thorough Socialists I ever knew,
-Holden, in fact, was on the regular staff of the English _Spectator_,
-the organ of the enlightened portion of the Middle-class; and there, as
-he said to me, he went as near Socialism as he could for threepence!
-(Threepence is the price of the paper.) This same man wrote, too,
-political articles for a distinguished radical politician, and I have
-seen the proof-sheets of these hacked and mauled by the patron to
-suit the palates of the Radicals. It was this man who once seriously
-contemplated dropping a bomb in the House of Lords, to show that herd of
-hereditary liars, as he put it, that there was such a thing as justice
-in the world! He loved the People: he hated the Middle-class, but the
-People cared nothing for him. It is, then, I think, a mistake to lay the
-paternity of Nihilism to the charge of any but the over-fed tyrannous
-Middle-class.”
-
-“What you say,” Maddock said slowly and courteously, “is very interesting
-and instructive, Mr. Hawkesbury, and I perceive that the ground which
-you, and I think I may say Mr. Fitzgerald,” (Fitzgerald smiled and
-bowed), “and myself have in common is large enough to admit of our
-working—at any rate not in opposition to one another. Is not our mutual
-object the enlightenment of the unintelligent mass of the People and of
-the Middle-class? I am, I am sure, grateful to you, sir, for the manner
-in which you have brought this home to me. I always felt that underneath
-all our differences—I mean, the differences of our beliefs, religious
-or social—we had a common ground, the advancement of a really good and
-true Civilization, and now, I think, I know this. He renders us a great
-service who makes our feelings self-conscious, who turns them into the
-articulate thought of words.”
-
-There was a slight pause.
-
-“And now,” said Gildea, in his half-amused way, “we will, if you please,
-go down to lunch. Mr. Alcock particularly asked me not to wait for him,
-and we have waited, it seems unconsciously, for over half-an-hour.”
-
-They went down together into the dining-room, chatting lightly and
-pleasantly.
-
-
-IV.
-
-The dining-room was the corresponding room on the ground story to the
-sitting-room up above. It was quite as well furnished, but in a different
-style. A fine rather than an exquisite form of beauty had been sought
-after. It was a saying of Gildea’s that a dining-room ought to give you
-an impression somewhat similar to that of a beach-brake in spring: the
-architecture and furniture should have clear outlines, the colours should
-be clear, the lights should be clear. All massiveness and duskiness was
-to be avoided. A meal ought to be a repast, not a feast: we should rise
-pleasantly satisfied, not dully satiated. In a sitting-room, on the other
-hand, the sworn abode of the sweet and delicate talk and music of women,
-just as the dining-room was that of the serene discussions of men, there
-should be something of the lush luxuriance in shape and colour of the
-midsummer woods, knights and ladies and all the figures of romance and
-fairy-tale passing together. But such an arrangement of rooms as this,
-he would say with his bright half-mocking smile, was at present like a
-damsel of the Middle Ages suddenly awakened in the dull derisive streets
-of London or Manchester. This will only come to pass in that wonderful
-Future, when we have all learned that Beauty and Truth are synonyms, and
-Keats has statues and altars like Sophokles of old.
-
-Considerable time, wealth and trouble had been spent on this house.
-Sydney and Melbourne had been ransacked for beautiful things worthy
-of Gildea’s ideas of “the nest,” as he called it to himself, that he
-desired; for this was indeed one, and not the least remarkable, of his
-freaks. It had been aroused in this fashion. One afternoon, sauntering
-across a road in the Domain, he had almost been run over by someone
-riding a splendid bay horse. Looking up, with a fine touch of anger, he
-had perceived that it was a lady, who was looking down at him with a
-look, he suddenly felt, so precisely his own that, the ludicrous aspect
-of the thing coming upon him, he smiled. She too, at once following his
-change of feeling, smiled, and then in a moment, with a slight courteous
-movement of hand and body, had passed. It had all taken place in a few
-seconds. Her face and form made up between them, he thought, the most
-beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he had not seen few so-called
-whether in Europe or elsewhere. Beauty in women was, according to Gildea,
-a thing which was not _in reality_ to be seen in the present world,
-implying, as it did, perfection of form and perfection of spirit, καλον
-κἀγαθον. The Athens of Perikles had produced female beauty; in the
-face and form of the Venus of Milo the highest physical and spiritual
-perfection of the time is apparent. Florence too, in such a woman as
-Vittoria Colonna, had produced female beauty, and the Renascence had
-incarnated it in a Marie Stuart; but, so far, our Modernity was not ripe
-for it. Lovely female faces it, as all times, had in abundance, but these
-faces knew nothing of spiritual perfection: they knew nothing of life,
-they were not beautiful. And the female faces that _did_ know of life,
-the faces of women like George Sand, Charlotte Bronte, George Eliot,
-were quite wanting in physical perfection. They imply mental passion,
-the struggle of pain: they have not reached to the serene pleasure of
-spiritual sovereignty. No, Beauty, καλον κἀγαθον, is to be a produce of
-the Future when Modernity has passed through the pangs of its travail
-and, in the bright light of health and youthfulness, “grows in wisdom
-and stature” to the perfect self.—But this face that he had seen for a
-moment, was, he thought, really beautiful.
-
-A few yards from him a man was standing looking back at the rider passing
-along under the trees. Gildea came to him, and asked him courteously if
-he happened to know who the lady was?
-
-“No,” said the man, “I don’t know who she is, but I often see her.”
-
-And on this incident Gildea had founded a freak which had for some time
-amused him. He intended to see this woman again, and, if he was correct
-in his supposition (which he used amusedly to doubt to himself) that
-she was some phenomenal anticipation of the Future, to possess her. He
-set about choosing and furnishing a house, therefore, which should, as
-far as possible, be worthy of such an individual, and much amusement
-it occasionally afforded him. A private enquiry-office was meantime
-seeking her out; and, about a month ago, Gildea to his surprise had
-been informed that she was, beyond doubt, a Miss Medwin, niece of the
-well-known squatter, english, eccentric even to the extent of riding
-about and shooting in man’s clothes on one of Mr. Medwin’s stations in
-New South Wales, and, moreover, strongly suspected of having had, and
-of still having, an intrigue with a Mr. Frank Hawkesbury, a writer and
-man of uncertain means, in Melbourne. Gildea laughed much on receiving
-this unasked-for report, (He had just by accident made the acquaintance
-of Hawkesbury), and his interest in his freak somewhat revived; but his
-all but conviction that he was incorrect in his view of Miss Medwin (if
-it were indeed she), prevented him from having any great interest in the
-matter or any great anticipations of success. As usual, however, he was
-satisfied to find that he had any interest or anticipations at all. He
-learned from Mrs. Medwin that she was in a short time coming to Sydney
-for a week or so on her road up to one of Mr. Medwin’s New South Wales
-stations to which she had not been for years, and would be pleased to
-see him. A few days ago, then, she and Miss Medwin had arrived, and were
-waiting for Mr. Medwin who was detained by business in Melbourne. Hence
-Gildea’s invitation to Mrs. Medwin and her niece, to come and make tea
-for him and go for a sail in the “Petrel.”
-
-The party arranged itself round the table, Maddock at one end, Gildea at
-the other, an empty place on Gildea’s right hand for Alcock, Hawkesbury
-on his left with Fitzgerald next to him. Maddock, as before, could not
-help observing with admiration the beautiful room in which they were
-sitting. Hawkesbury, however, following out a train of thought suggested
-by his own last words, sat serious, looking at the table-cloth.
-
-The lunch began. Gildea and Fitzgerald could both, when they pleased,
-excel in that graceful sweetness of manner which is supposed to be the
-peculiar gift of women. They pleased now. The talk flowed lightly and
-pleasantly, and soon returned to, what seemed to be to them all, the most
-interesting topic—the People. Fitzgerald spoke of the far greater ease
-and leisure of the People here than in England, and that led on to a
-consideration of the question of Labour here.
-
-“Carlyle declared long ago,” said Hawkesbury suddenly, “that the great
-question of the time was no other than the organization of Labour. Well,
-Labour is at last organizing. The consequence is that, as Mr. Fitzgerald
-remarked, there is greater ease and leisure among the People, not only
-here in Australia where Labour is comparatively scarce, but even in
-England where it is plentiful.—The question here, however,” he added,
-“shows signs of complication. The employers are to form—nay, have already
-formed—a union: ‘The Victorian Employers’ Union.’ The only wonder is
-that it is in Victoria and not in England that this idea has first been
-adopted. In Trades-Unionism in England, let me say it at once, there have
-been many abuses; but, let me hasten to add, not nearly so many abuses as
-there were under the old despotism of Capital. Trades-Unionism, which so
-few people seem to understand, originally meant the combination of many
-oppressed small units against a great oppressing unit. _Now_ it means
-more: it means the determined effort of the People after happiness.”
-
-“That is very true, I think,” said Gildea, “The People, ever since the
-deception practised upon them by the compromise Reform Bill of ’32, have
-been slowly learning to organize themselves and to rely on themselves
-alone. Such a fact soon makes itself apparent. There is not a single
-considerable political measure since ’32 which has not a socialistic
-tendency.”
-
-Hawkesbury acknowledged Gildea’s remark, and proceeded:
-
-“The People, and by the People I mean of course the masses, is everywhere
-realizing that there is something better worth living for than frantic
-competition and the scramble for wealth. Trades-Unionism, then, is
-the sworn foe of all this. I am not speaking either for or against
-Trades-Unionism: I am simply stating what it _wants_, what it _is_! The
-Trades-hall delegates, in the late conference anent the Bootmakers’
-strike in Melbourne, refused to let a bootmaker work for more than eight
-hours a day, although, by so doing, he might better himself, and by not
-so doing might keep himself for ever a mere journeyman. ‘Further argument
-with men of such a way of thinking,’ says Mr. Bruce Smith, the chief
-mover of the ‘Victorian Employers’ Union,’ ‘further argument seemed
-useless.’ And it was indeed as it seemed; for these men were of opinion
-that if, in the frantic competition and scramble for wealth, one or two
-journeymen _did_ rise and become rich, hundreds and thousands would have
-to lead lives which would not stand too favourable a comparison with
-those of dogs. ‘Therefore,’ the delegates would say, ‘we will check this
-frantic competition and scramble for wealth, and we will even be so
-wicked as to sacrifice the one or two possible journeymen who might rise
-and become rich, for the sake of the actual hundreds and thousands whose
-lives otherwise would not stand too favourable a comparison with those
-of dogs.’ Well, and what will be the end of this new phase of the great
-battle of Capital _versus_ Labour on which we seem to be now entering
-here? Let me not be thought a terrorist, if I remark, what is indeed
-patent to all, that, in a country with a franchise like ours, Labour, if
-driven into a corner and confronted by Capital triumphantly brandishing
-its sword of ‘Frantic-competition-and-the-scramble-for-wealth—Labour,
-I say, might make things excessively uncomfortable for the community
-in general and Capital in particular. I am not hinting at mobs and
-sticks and stones. I am merely stating a fact that is patent to all.
-Our good friends the Landed-proprietors, videlicet the squatters, have
-experienced in Victoria and elsewhere—are indeed now experiencing even in
-Queensland[13]—the undoubted benefits of a little judicious legislation.
-Might not someone suggest to the ‘Victorian Employers’ Union’ and Mr.
-Bruce Smith, who seem to have such quaint notions of what Trades-Unionism
-really wants and is, that the same fate may possibly be in store for our
-other good friends, the Capitalists?”
-
-“It is a pity,” said Gildea smiling, “that we have not a Capitalist here
-to answer you. But, I think, I know what one of them, Mr. Alcock, would
-say. He would say that the great law of Nature is this very frantic
-struggle which you deprecate, and that, if you attempt to put a check
-on it, you will only end by first arresting and then destroying all
-progress. He would oppose the interference of organized Labour quite as
-much as of organized public opinion, that is to say the State. He would
-of course recognize all the evils of the frantic struggle, but he would
-say that it yet contained the great ascending and progressive power of
-Nature, it was yet capable of Evolution; whereas the artificial state of
-popular leisure and ease contains the great de-scending and retrogressive
-power of Nature, Dissolution.—But here,” he said, “at the very nick of
-time, he comes himself.”
-
-Edgar, who had just left them, returned ushering in Alcock, who came
-forward with somewhat off-hand apologies to shake hands with Gildea. He
-was then introduced to Maddock and shook hands with him, compromising
-the matter, as he thought, with the others by a bow and an expression
-of his pleasure at making their acquaintance. He sat down in his place
-and, having told Edgar what he chose to eat, was ready for a few moments’
-talk before setting somewhat vigorously to work on the victuals. Gildea
-explained to him the conversational context, and what he himself had
-ventured to say in the person of the typical scientific capitalist.
-
-“Well,” Alcock said, with a half-pleased half-amused look on his face,
-when Gildea had finished, “I will observe that, on the whole, you didn’t
-put my sentiments so badly, Sir Horace.—I am opposed to all state
-interference,” he declared, turning to Maddock, “It doesn’t pay in the
-long run; it enervates people! Look at this New South Wales here. They
-can’t put a bridge across a creek now, without petitioning government for
-assistance! In England a half-dozen men or so would have got together and
-settled the matter themselves. And they want more state interference in
-Victoria! Why, it’ll drain out all their independence, and energy; and,
-in twenty years, they’ll be as lazy and lackadaisical as they are here in
-New South Wales! Competition’s the law of Nature.” By this time Alcock’s
-mouth was full, and he was beginning to enjoy the delicate food and
-wines, for he was hungry and thirsty. There was a pause.
-
-“True,” said Fitzgerald, gently breaking it, “but does not Mr. Alcock
-too think, that it is just where the law of Nature ends that the law of
-Humanity begins? Surely this is the essential position of Christianity,
-that it says to the brutality of Nature: ‘Thus far shalt thou go, and no
-further.’”
-
-“You can’t,” answered Alcock with his mouth full, too intent on the
-victuals to be more explicit, “You can’t interfere—impunity—great
-law—nature—struggle—existence—survival—fittest.”
-
-“Here, then,” said Fitzgerald who ate little and drank less, turning
-to Hawkesbury, “_we_ are at one, I think, as opposed to the pure
-Scientists?”
-
-“I do not believe,” Hawkesbury said, “and I do not think any Socialist
-believes, in carrying the initiative of the individual to the extent
-that Herbert Spencer would like. But we are not in favour of state
-interference. We want to nationalize things, the land, the unearned
-increment, the great public enterprises, but we include in this term the
-State also. The State at present means the tool of the Middle-class,
-worked by Capital and the Land Interest. This arrangement partakes
-too much of the nature of a political joint-stock company to please
-Socialists.”
-
-“And you think,” asked Gildea, his hand on his wine glass, looking
-at Hawkesbury, “you think that when the People wins, as it of course
-ultimately will win, the control of things, that it will not work the
-State in its own interest, just as the Aristocracy did and as the
-Middle-class does?”
-
-“You know,” Hawkesbury said, “I _believe_ in the People! The People is
-the only unselfish part of society. Their one desire is for justice and
-mercy; and, when they could not get it themselves, they have always died
-readily for those who, they believed, wished to give it them. Herein lies
-the secret of all great popular devotions—from that of Christ to that of
-Napoleon.”
-
-“I,” said Alcock, “do _not_ believe in the People, as you call them,
-and their unselfishness has not yet come under my notice. The People,
-like everyone else, are led by what they believe to be their interests,
-their immediate interests, and our great effort should be, by giving them
-a good sound practical education, to get them to see that their true
-interest lies in e-volution and not in re-volution. Let us have a fair
-chance for everybody, and let the best men win.”
-
-“Yes,” said Hawkesbury, with suppressed eagerness, “but the trouble is
-that, in this so-called free competition of yours, the best _don’t_
-win! In Nature the best win, I agree; but Civilization has complicating
-clauses that modify and all but change, what you rightly call, her great
-law—the struggle for existence and survival of the fittest.”
-
-“I do not see that,” said Alcock, returning to his victuals which he had
-left for a few moments.
-
-“I will give you an instance,” said Hawkesbury, “A, B, and C are three
-men who start as beggars in the market of free competition. A has the
-best wits, and A accordingly wins, and makes a fortune. Good: we applaud!
-Then A, B, and C all die, leaving sons D, E, and F, the best-witted
-of whom does not happen to be D, A’s son, but E, the son of B. Does E
-therefore win and make a fortune, and D sink down to his proper level
-with F? Not a bit of it! D has not only his own second-rate powers to
-help him: he has also the wealth which he inherits from his father.
-E, then, has no chance against him: the second-rate man with wealth
-overwhelms the first-rate man with beggary. What are the consequences,
-generally speaking? Why, that, instead of the best surviving, the second
-or third or fourth or fifth-best survive, and the market is drugged with
-successful mediocrity. Here, I think, is the delusion under which Herbert
-Spencer’s social philosophy labours: he does not see that Civilization,
-as we know it at present, is not a natural but an artificial state, and
-that therefore the laws which hold good in Nature by no means necessarily
-hold good in Civilization. Look at the bees or ants, whose Civilization
-is a natural and not, as ours is, an artificial one: do _they_ encourage
-free competition with its inevitable concomitants of wealth and power
-accumulated in the hands of a few to the prejudice of the community? Not
-so. To each is assigned an equal, if varying, share in the economy of
-the community. With them work has its duty, and, as for idleness, it is
-not possible. But what duty has the successful business man, except to
-his own success? what duty has the wealthy aristocrat, except to his own
-pleasure?” There was a slight pause.
-
-“It won’t _work_,” said Alcock, his eyes a little opened, sitting
-considering this young man with sudden interest. (Alcock had so far
-thought that, in the present company, nothing would be acceptable save,
-what he called, a popular exposition of his own views)—“Believe me,”
-he added with gravity to Hawkesbury, “I have gone through all this at
-length, repeatedly, and with care, and I am convinced that, with many
-drawbacks, free competition within and without is the only thing which
-will give us a civilization of progress. The real tendency of everything
-else, I say, is towards stagnation or retrogression. Free competition
-universal, the great problem of which is to be the dominant race will
-proceed to settle itself quickly and thoroughly. Until that problem is
-settled, we cannot hope for a Civilization worthy of the name. All the
-inferior races must be stamped out, all the stagnatory or retrogressive
-ideas eliminated, and the best men with the best knowledge left masters
-of the situation. It is impossible to foresee what such men may achieve.
-We may yet, perhaps, open communications with the planets and even modify
-the courses of the stars.”
-
-“Well,” said Fitzgerald smiling, “we have had the Vision of the Future
-from the Christian, the Cultured, the Socialistic point of view, and now
-we see that Science too has her dreams. I have no objection myself to any
-of these Visions which, as I take it, all contain a not inconsiderable
-amount of truth. I would only observe that I believe them to be all
-impossible solely and individually. The Socialistic Future that would
-banish Christ, the Scientific that would also banish God, can no more
-exist as, in Mr. Alcock’s phrase, masters of the situation, than the
-Future of Christianity that would ignore the glory of our discoveries in
-Natural Law, or the Future of Culture that would deny to the People our
-highest joy.”
-
-“No,” said Alcock drily, “we don’t want Superstition mixed up with
-Religion, _that_ is clear enough.”
-
-“Nor yet,” added Fitzgerald sweetly, “do we want Superstition mixed
-up _without_ Religion.” (Alcock, with the look of a man who does not
-understand a thing and does not much care to, took a drink at his
-champagne, which, it was evident from the new expression on his face,
-was to his taste. Fitzgerald proceeded suavely to the table at large and
-more particularly to Maddock.) “For, as perhaps Mr. Alcock,” (with a
-slight bend of the head to Alcock), “will permit me to say, the purely
-scientific view of things, which sees, in the unrestrained application
-to civilized life of the brutality of Nature, the undoubted parent of a
-Civilization worthy of the name, may be after all, and I believe is, a
-great superstition. Is not a superstition a belief in a thing not worthy
-of that belief? And is it not, then, a superstition, in calculating the
-progress of Humanity, to leave out of all account, as the pure Scientists
-seem to me to do, the most distinctive thing in Humanity—Religion.”
-
-“_I_ should say,” observed Alcock, “that _Reason_ is the most distinctive
-thing in Humanity.”
-
-“Indeed?” asked Fitzgerald, “You surprise me! Is it not generally
-admitted now that the rudiments of Reason, and considerably more than
-the rudiments, are to be found in the animals? But I am not aware that
-anyone, not even Ernst Haeckel, has discovered in them the rudiments of
-Religion. Can we not, then, agree with Max Müller that it is ‘certain
-that what makes man man, is that he alone can turn his face to heaven;
-certain that he alone yearns for something that neither sense nor reason
-can supply?’”
-
-Alcock had the look of a man who feels the prompting of flippancy
-and, restraining it, is amused at what his flippancy would have said.
-Fitzgerald, perceiving this, answered it:
-
-“Müller,” he proceeded, “in criticising Kant, who is of course the Father
-of all the worshippers of Reason, again says finely that ‘he closed the
-ancient gates through which man had gazed into Infinity; but, in spite of
-himself, he was driven, in his “Criticism of Practical Reason,” to open a
-side-door through which to admit the sense of duty, and with it the sense
-of the Divine.—This is the vulnerable point in Kant’s philosophy,’ he
-goes on, ‘and if philosophy has to explain what is, not what ought to be,
-there will be and can be no rest till we admit, which cannot be denied,
-that there is in man a third faculty, which I call simply the faculty
-of apprehending the Infinite, not only in religion but in all things,
-a power independent of sense and reason, a power in a certain sense
-contradicted by sense and reason, but yet a very real power, which has
-held its own from the beginning of the world, neither sense nor reason
-being able to overcome it, while it alone is able to overcome both reason
-and sense.’”
-
-“That it has held its own from the beginning of the world,” said Alcock,
-“is no proof that it will do so to the end.”
-
-Fitzgerald smiled.
-
-“What you say,” he answered, “makes clear to me, then, that you do not
-accept this ‘faculty of apprehending the Infinite,’ and philosophically
-make the best of it, but you wish to call it mere childishness or, as you
-say, superstition and—‘eliminate’ it! And yet you talk of Religion! What,
-may I ask, does a pure Scientist, as you seem to be, Mr. Alcock, _mean_
-by Religion?”
-
-“Well,” said Alcock frankly, “I confess that, to me, it means little
-more than credulity. I am not, of course, hostile to Religion; on the
-contrary, I support it. It helps to keep society together.”
-
-“It will do,” said Hawkesbury, “for the People! Pending the arrival of
-that education, which is to teach them the high satisfaction of social
-evolution, the masses may amuse themselves with such used-out mummeries
-as the Devil, Christ, and God. The People is grateful. It has, it knows,
-as much to expect from Science as from Culture.”
-
-Fitzgerald was quite amused.
-
-“Mr. Alcock,” he said, “since you pure Scientists are generally reckoned
-as the foes of us Christians, we can ask you to do us no kinder service
-than to nail these colours of yours to the mast in the sight of all men.
-I do not alone mean your belief that Religion is all but a synonyme for
-credulity; but this general conception of things of yours which includes
-no further consideration for Religion than elimination. We can have no
-doubt of the results. The world will doubtless find in _our_ conception
-of things a certain amount of, what Mr. Hawkesbury has called, used-out
-mummery (for man’s free-will has ever turned use into abuse), but it will
-find also things which savour of the kindly earth and the genial sun;
-whereas, if you will let me say so, in _yours_ all that it will find
-will be the steel-cold atmosphere of some heatless planet, filled with
-the dreary whirr of abstract machinery. Superstition _with_ Religion,
-they will say, is better than Superstition _without_. And then, after
-they have given you a trial—and a trial they will give you, and such a
-great and long trial that we shall be eliminated almost as much as even
-you, Mr. Alcock, could wish us to be—then they will come back to us,
-and, having been driven by sore anguish of soul to re-discover, as their
-Father did, the sense of duty and of the Divine, they will find that this
-first step leads inevitably to another, and that to yet another. And,
-in the end, all high souls, and after them of course all other souls
-(for the wisdom of to-day is the common sense of to-morrow), will see
-that their best and truest Father was a man who, passing through all
-this before them, has these years stood with clear and radiant faith,
-his longing hands held out to all that would take their strong help and
-guidance to that place of joy and of peace!”
-
-Alcock, supposing this man to be Jesus and having made it a rule never
-in mixed company to speak of that to him, under such circumstances,
-embarrassing personage, kept silence, looking at the table-cloth.
-Hawkesbury too did not understand the allusion, which even Maddock,
-unless he had been warned by Gildea of Fitzgerald’s connection with
-Cardinal Newman, might have missed. As it was, Gildea, perceiving and
-amused at Alcock’s misunderstanding, was ready to at once dissipate it.
-
-“Newman,” he said, “is indeed the great modern example of a man of high
-intellect and all spiritual powers giving, not only, as Heine did,
-‘his tribute of admiration,’ but everything he had, ‘to the splendid
-consistency of the Roman Catholic doctrine.’ I remember once hearing a
-rather able High-churchman say that he could not see, any more after
-than before reading the celebrated _Apologia_, why Newman had joined the
-Church of Rome: which is to say, that he could not see that, to a certain
-type of mind, the only two logical positions for a man of thought to-day
-are those of Scientific Atheism or of Catholic Faith.”
-
-“He leaves no place, then,” said Hawkesbury, “for the Theists or the
-Pantheists?”
-
-“The Theists,” answered Gildea, “leave no place for themselves—except
-in the spiritual out-houses and the Unitarian chapels. There is not, I
-think, in modern times, one man of first, or second, or even third-class
-intellectual power that has believed in a personal God and not believed
-in a divine Christ. All men of thought are really now divided into two
-classes, Christians and Atheists: the first believing in a personal
-Christ and a personal God, the second in Law. All other differences
-are, as it seems to me, at heart mere divergences of symbolism. We are
-accustomed, for instance, to call those who hold that matter produces
-spirit Materialists, and those who hold that spirit produces matter
-Idealists, and those who hold that matter and spirit are identic and
-divine, Pantheists; but really they are all Atheists. There is no
-Atheism, no disbelief in a personal God, more intense than that of our
-Idealists, Renan, Arnold, Emerson, who never cease, however, to talk of
-God and bid us find in Him our only comfort and guide: they are the true
-children of Goethe whose conception of God was Humanity in Nature, and of
-Religion Humanity in Art.”
-
-“So we Catholics feel,” said Fitzgerald, “and this is, as I have implied,
-the great truth which we owe to the life and work of Newman. He has saved
-us from any temptation to compromise with Atheism. We are to stand to our
-guns, and, if we must perish, perish there!”
-
-“The only thing is,” Gildea answered ruefully, “that no great spiritual
-movement, religious or otherwise, was ever yet produced, retained, or
-destroyed by the action of logic, and they have all partaken largely of
-the nature of compromise. Voltaire and the philosophes sent such a douche
-of logic onto Christianity in France that they literally beat it out of
-the country, but it came back again. And why? Because it contained the
-satisfaction of the demands of one side of Humanity which Logic had not,
-and could not have. Well, they compromised the matter, and the result
-is, (Dare I declare it, Fitzgerald?), none other than men like the fine
-and intellectual ecclesiastics who presided over the education of that
-lay priest, as he calls himself, Ernest Renan. History repeats itself.
-What Logic tried to do yesterday, Science is trying to do to-day. And,
-as you,” (he turned his eyes to Fitzgerald), “foresee, Christianity,
-and Religion generally will suffer a defeat and even decapitation, only
-to return with processions, ringing of bells and the glad shouts of the
-populace. Then the Parliament will shut up all the sunday theatres, and
-the skeletons of Professor Huxley and Herbert Spencer will be removed
-from the Pantheon at Westminster and lodged in Madame Tussaud’s, and the
-land have rest—for the space of forty years!”
-
-“Well,” said Alcock, “you young gentlemen are getting too far head
-for steady-going seniors like Dr. Maddock and myself. We will ask
-for matches, and smoke a cigar, while you tell us all about our
-great-great-grandchildren.”
-
-Cigars, cigarettes, and lights were brought and, with some pleasant small
-talk, the party loosened and eased its position at table and physical and
-mental state generally.
-
-“Talking of compromise,” said Hawkesbury, taking his cigarette from
-his lips and leaning the elbow of the hand that held it on the table,
-“between Religion and Logic, or Reason, is not, what is called,
-Positivism an attempt to organise such a compromise?”
-
-Gildea began to laugh.
-
-“Ah,” he said, “is not Arnold’s ‘grotesque old french pedant,’ a late
-foolish Monsieur Comte, as Carlyle would say, to leave me alone even
-beyond ‘the long wash of Australian seas?’ Am I to be persecuted even
-here by his tiresome adaptations and school-boy notions, all bundled up
-in superlatively bad French?—You do not know,” he added, “what I chance
-to have suffered at the hands of my positivist friends at home, or I am
-sure you would not ask me to discuss them here where I am come for a
-holiday. They and Mr. Mallock are the most tiresome people in existence.
-You have heard of Mr. Mallock out here? and of his tilts with the junior
-Positivists?”
-
-Hawkesbury acquiesced.
-
-“We have heard of everything out here,” he said smiling.
-
-“Mr. Mallock,” said Gildea, “was a young man who wrote a charming book
-called ‘The New Republic,’ one of the most charming books that had been
-written for several years, and then took to polemics, and has been
-logically agonizing there ever since. For this too we all ought to owe
-this religio-intellectual pedantry called Positivism a grudge. And, when
-we remember what Positivism did for George Eliot,—reduced a good quarter
-of herself and her characters into edificatory machines—I think that all
-of us, to whom Nature and Art are precious, should look upon Positivism
-as the contemporary accursèd thing.” Gildea spoke with a certain
-exaggerativeness of tone and manner that to Maddock, observing and
-listening to everything with humour, was somewhat puzzling. Maddock with
-average profundity suspected that here was a case of some personal memory
-of a more or less disagreeable character; but average profundity, when it
-has to deal with that which is out of the range of the average, nearly
-always makes mistakes. Gildea was subject to sudden losses of interest
-in what he was saying or doing, spiritual twinges of that terrible wound
-from which he suffered: to those to whom “the endless emptiness of all
-things” is a reality, moments of acute weariness and disgust are ever
-lying in wait, and then the harness of life and living is often resumed
-with impatience or even pettishness. It had been so just now with Gildea.
-He had looked forward to his meeting with Miss Medwin, and heard those
-beautiful lips open and sounds come forth that showed that, however
-fine the harp, its strings were unattuned. The sense of his intense and
-perpetual loneliness had rushed upon him, and he had gone back again into
-his surroundings with an irritation that in a few moments amused him at
-himself.
-
-The talk passed onwards, Maddock for the first time taking his share
-in it. And yet again it came round to the People. It was clear that
-the strongest impression that had been given to the party was that of
-Hawkesbury’s Socialism.
-
-“If I had been speaking of it some five or six years ago,” said
-Fitzgerald, “I should have certainly said that I thought the Secularists
-had made most impression on the People of late years. But, in the face of
-the American Revivalist meetings and the Salvation Army, I have had to
-modify my views.”
-
-“These movements or rather this movement,” said Gildea, “strikes me as
-reactionary. British Middle-class Liberalism and Secularism have been
-at work, with much cry, and the egregious littleness of the wool has
-disgusted the People who have rushed off into the opposite extreme. The
-workmen, the skilled workmen, are I think secular. I remember hearing a
-lecturer on art who had been on a tour in America say, that the American
-workmen all asked him if he knew Darwin or Huxley or Tyndall, and
-expressed little or no care about anyone else, which seemed to surprise
-him.”
-
-“Cardinal Manning,” Fitzgerald remarked, “said well, then, that ‘the
-spiritual desolation of London alone would make the Salvation Army
-possible’—‘this zealous but defiant movement.’ Are we right in our
-supposition, do you think, Mr. Hawkesbury?”
-
-Hawkesbury assented.
-
-“There are three movements,” he said, “at present going on among the
-People—the Socialistic, the Religious, and the Secular. They are all
-strong. In Ireland I have seen the two first clash, and the first was
-almost invariably victorious. If the priests will not go with the People
-in their socialistic views, (For of course the Irish Question is really a
-socialistic one, although it is not spoken of as such), then the priests
-are given up. Usually, however, the priests, being themselves of the
-People, are in full sympathy with them. The Socialists are by no means
-necessarily Atheists, but they are not Christians. ‘The sooner,’ I heard
-one of them say once, when pressed on the point, ‘the sooner Christ is
-made a thing of the past and Jesus a thing of the present, the better it
-will be for all of us.’ That expresses them excellently. The same idea
-lies at bottom in the popular Religious movement.—We Socialists,” he
-added with a touch of bright humour, “like the Booths better than we like
-the Bradlaughs, but we recognise that both are in earnest and working for
-the People.”
-
-“And what, religiously speaking,” asked Fitzgerald, “do you believe is to
-be the future state of the People, and of us all?”
-
-Hawkesbury had another touch of bright humour.
-
-“Socialism,” he said, “nothing but Socialism! We are all Socialists,
-whether we know it or not. Just, then, as in the first and second
-centuries the platonistic Time-spirit radically influenced before it
-was absorbed into the christianic: so in the eighteenth and nineteenth
-centuries has the christianic Time-spirit radically influenced, before
-it shall be finally absorbed in, the socialistic. Socialism has, after
-all, its universal modern expounder in Goethe. Goethe was the first to
-look upon Civilization as a great organic whole, every part of which has
-fixed pleasures and duties. He was the first, we believe, to conceive
-a natural as opposed to an artificial Civilization. Carlyle, too, felt
-something of the sort, although he could not express it, any more than he
-could not express what he took God to be. But we know Carlyle loved us,
-and therefore we love Carlyle. As for your Idealists, Sir Horace,—Renan,
-Emerson, and Arnold—we have no care for them, nor they for us. I remember
-once hearing Holden call Arnold ‘the man who slew so many Philistines
-with the jawbone of an ass.’ Well, the remark is expressive of his
-attitude towards Culture.” Gildea and Fitzgerald were laughing, Maddock
-smiling.
-
-“The end of it all,” said Maddock, “seems to be, then, Mr. Hawkesbury,
-that ‘the People,’ as we say, is the great unknown quantity of the social
-equation. We all more or less feel its power, and we all more or less
-wish that power to be arrayed on our side, but no one quite knows what it
-is and everyone is a little afraid of it.”
-
-“You say truly,” said Hawkesbury, “The People is the great unknown power,
-and it puzzles us. Pharaoh has dreamed a dream, and there is none of all
-the magicians of Egypt and all the wise men thereof that can interpret
-it unto him. What to make of the People’s noisy Tichborne or Salvation
-Army devotions but political and religious infatuations? Be it so! But I
-will say this, that the People has a shrewd humorous instinct for both
-politics and religion that is a whole heaven above the purblind prudence
-of the Middle-class.” He sighed, the sigh of a man who has somewhat
-outspoken himself. “‘—And all these things,’ he added as if to conclude
-the matter, ‘are only known to the Deity.’”
-
-Gildea smiled.
-
-“Well,” he said, “Are there not those among us who look forward to what
-is to come with the brightest faith or with the darkest despair? And
-there are those who dream and those who doubt,—and those too who possess
-their souls with patience, nourishing a modest hope. For
-
- “what was before we know not,
- and we know not what shall succeed.
-
- “Haply the river of Time—
- as it grows, as the towns on its marge
- fling their wavering lights
- on a wider, statelier stream—
- may acquire, if not the calm
- of its early mountainous shore,
- yet a solemn peace of its own.”
-
-Little more was said after this of the chief subjects of their talk, and
-presently both Fitzgerald and Hawkesbury took their leave, Maddock and
-Fitzgerald, and Alcock and Hawkesbury, expressing mutual hopes of seeing
-one another again.
-
-
-V.
-
-Maddock went out into the balcony and stood there, leaning on the rails,
-reflectively smoking his cigar and looking out at the scene stretched
-before him like a panorama. Alcock held quiet converse with Gildea for a
-few moments, apologetically asking permission to go and write a letter,
-the importance of which he would have explained at length, had not Gildea
-interposed.
-
-“By all means,” said he; and, with a word of excuse to and gesture of
-acknowledgment from Maddock, took Alcock off into a room opposite, a
-study, where he ensconced him at the desk and, having pointed out the
-position of all the epistolatory necessities and told him to ring the
-bell for Edgar who would see that the letter was posted at once, withdrew
-and rejoined Maddock on the balcony.
-
-“You will excuse Alcock,” Gildea said, lighting a cigarette, “He has a
-letter of importance to write, which he does not care to leave till we
-come back.”
-
-Maddock at once acquiesced. There was a pause, both smoking with leisure.
-
-At last:
-
-“Well,” said Gildea, taking his cigarette from his lips, “and how did you
-like the happy family? You were a very quiet member of it.”
-
-“Yes,” said Maddock, “I refrained from mewing and sat still, purring and
-pleasantly watching the others. It struck me, shortly after Alcock came
-in, that we were a very representative happy family.”
-
-“We only wanted a genial Theist to make the pile complete. Your good
-Judge is a Theist. Now if we could only....”
-
-“Ay, ay,” said Maddock with something like a chuckle, “Judge Parker is a
-Theist! As your friend the _Argus_ said, he was ‘the learned gentleman
-who discovered Unitarianism in the early months of 1885.’—Come now,” he
-proceeded with a sudden concentration of interest, “what are you going
-to say of the affirmative side of this man’s criticism, after your
-remark that there was not, in modern times, one man of real intellectual
-power that has believed in a personal God and not believed in a divine
-Christ? Are you going to turn upon me again with your precious purely
-intellectual view of things, and say: ‘The question that now arises is,
-has not Theism, after all,’ et cetera, et cetera, et cetera?”
-
-“Certainly I am,” said Gildea laughing, “but all hope of utilizing
-the purely intellectual view seems lost after my unwary committal of
-myself.—No,” he added more seriously, “I have of course little more left
-to do than to try and get you to join me in abuse of the good Judge for
-his superstition, that is to say his Theism, and that other egregious
-vice of his—his ludicrously inadequate conception of what is ‘good
-and ennobling.’ To take the last first, I will say, as I once heard
-Hawkesbury say on a like occasion, that I would far sooner believe in
-the Orthodox Christ than in the Unitarian Jesus. Indeed I might broaden
-my saying, and declare to the whole Rationalistic conception of Christ
-and Christianity generally, what Carlyle declared to Voltaire: ‘Cease,
-my much respected Herr Von Voltaire, shut thy sweet voice; for the task
-appointed thee seems finished. Sufficiently hast thou demonstrated this
-proposition, considerable or otherwise: That the Mythus of the Christian
-Religion looks not in the eighteenth century as it did in the eighth....
-Take our thanks, then, and—thyself away.’”
-
-“Judge Parker’s view of Our Lord,” said Maddock frowning, “is,—not to
-say blasphemous,—simply _fatuous_! I do not know whether indignation at
-impudence or contempt at stupidity the most possesses a man, when he is
-told, by such an one as this, that ‘the Christian Theist, who regards
-Jesus as man, considers, and rightly from his point of view, that it _is_
-within his power to attain to the life of, and to follow the example
-of, Christ.’ Imagine Judge Parker attaining to the life of anyone but a
-blatantly successful lawyer in the truculent spiritual quagmires of a
-colonial capital!”
-
-“Our good Judge’s discovery and investigation of the character of Jesus,”
-said Gildea, almost ready to laugh outright at Maddock’s concluding
-dythramb, “are certainly not unlike those of a man who should charter a
-penny steam-boat for a trip up the Nile, and proceed, on his return to
-England, to give a lengthy description of certain large triangular-shaped
-buildings which, he should say, bore considerable resemblance to the
-common-sense conception of pyramids! And it _is_ possible perhaps to
-denominate such a description as fatuous. His conception of Jesus _is_,
-we are agreed—inadequate: ‘an exemplar ... who merits all praise, all
-esteem, and love, and admiration for that, _being human_, he led so pure,
-so blameless, so noble and unselfish a life.’ This, what this with our
-good Judge _means_, is an inadequate conception of Jesus. He perceives
-nothing of the real essence of Jesus. Anything that Arnold, whom he
-quotes so often, may have said of ‘the mildness and sweet reasonableness’
-of Jesus, or that Renan may have said of the wonderful powers of personal
-attraction that are in Jesus—all this has fallen like water on the
-judicial back of our duck here! It is for none of these that our good
-Judge, our typical man of common-sense, goes to his New Testament.
-‘Mildness and sweet reasonableness,’ the yearning of a consuming personal
-love, are not clear solid spiritual qualities which his mind can see and
-touch and handle. They have no place in the copy-books of the soul, nor
-yet in the sum-books thereof, and you shall search its ‘Little Arthur’s
-History’ from beginning to end and find no mention of them. Their only
-place is in the thoughts, words, and actions of the men and women who
-have moved thousands and millions of their fellows, in the radiant days
-of high civilizations, in the agonies of the travail or the destruction
-of peoples and races. ‘It is apparent,’ says he, ‘that we can collect
-from the Christian Bible, a purer, more beautiful, and more advanced
-ethical code, than is to be obtained from any other book or books.’
-O good Judge, O belovèd Judge, if all that is to be got out of the
-Christian Bible is an ‘ethical code,’ then the sooner Martin Tupper and
-Mr. Harrison are deified, the sooner will the human soul have reached its
-apogee!”
-
-“That is well,” said Maddock, “but, at the same time, there are few
-things that disgust me more than the man of the opposite sort—he who,
-like so many of these Socialists of yours, will sing the love of Christ
-with passion, and then go out and commit a hundred of the grossest sins.
-Christ is morality.”
-
-“Ah no,” said Gildea, “he is something better; he is religion! It is
-immoral to commit adultery: it is moral to punish it: (‘Infinitely better
-that they should atone for it, than lose a step towards a higher life’):
-it is religious, not to condemn it, but to bid go and sin no more. It is
-immoral to take your share in your father’s substance and waste it in
-violent living: it is moral to punish this prodigal, to whom repentance
-has only come with a belly that was fain to fill itself with the husks of
-the swine: it is religious to kill the fatted calf for such a penitent,
-and rejoice and make glad. Jesus’ sole criticism on practical morality,
-on the realization of an ethical code in everyday life, is, that ‘it was
-not so from the beginning.’”
-
-“Just so; but this is precisely the difference of the ethical code of the
-Old and of the New Dispensation.”
-
-“Will you let me say, that it has nothing to do with any ethical code
-at all? For, surely, the essence of ethical codes is justice, and the
-essence of the religious code, of the code of Jesus, is love. The Amazon
-may be a big river, but you shall compass all time in trying to put into
-it the unspeakable ocean.—No, it is just here that, as Fitzgerald would
-say, all these good people are superstitious. They believe that the
-spiritual progress of humanity is synonymous with the progress of one
-portion of the spirit of humanity, namely the ethical portion; and this,
-being a belief in a thing not worthy of that belief, may justly, as it
-seems to me, be denominated a superstition. It is superstition without
-religion.”
-
-“And what, then,” asked Maddock, “do you call the belief of men like your
-friend Hawkesbury?”
-
-“Those who are immoral? men and women who, as most of these Socialists,
-work in the spirit of Jesus and act (as a polemist would say) in the
-manner of Bradlaugh?—what is _their_ belief?”
-
-“Yes,” said Maddock.
-
-“Why, clearly,” answered Gildea smiling, “religion _with_ superstition!
-The men of enthusiasm like Hawkesbury, and the men of morality like Judge
-Parker, are surely both of them right, and surely both of them wrong:
-right in their appreciation of the truth of one portion of the spiritual
-life, wrong in their ignorance of another portion. They both possess
-truth, and they both possess superstition.”
-
-“And what of a man like our friend Alcock here, who is ignorant of
-religion and more or less lax as regards morality?”
-
-“He too,” answered Gildea, “as Fitzgerald clearly demonstrated, is
-a victim of superstition. But he is not, for all that, without his
-belief, without his appreciation of truth. He believes in that portion
-of the spiritual life which we call intellect. Men like him have their
-enthusiasm, for which they are ready to suffer and do suffer all things;
-and that enthusiasm is the enthusiasm for that portion of truth which we
-call Science.”
-
-“And your Fitzgerald—is he too both right and wrong?”
-
-“Of course he is; for has he not both belief and negation? All belief is
-truth, not _the whole_ truth, but _a part_ of the truth. There is but one
-thing that is the whole truth.”
-
-“God?”
-
-“No, not God, for God does not include Nature, from which He is the
-outcome—not God, not Nature, but that which contains them both,
-Everything, the All!”
-
-“Pooh,” said Maddock, “flat Pantheism!”
-
-“_And suppose_,” cried Gildea, “_it were_ Pot-_theism, if the thing is
-true_!” (He laughed outright.) “—That answer of Carlyle’s,” he said, “is
-immortal.”
-
-“Oh, it was Carlyle said it?” said Maddock, “I had forgotten.—And so,” he
-proceeded, “the secret is out, and Sir Horace Gildea ‘stands confessed a
-Pantheist in all his charms!’”
-
-“Two of the happy family still remain unaccounted for,” Gildea said,
-“although they too have not probably attained to perfect truth.”
-
-“Oh, that is you and I. As for me, I can describe myself without your
-aid. I believe in morality and religion, with a touch of superstition in
-both.”
-
-“Worse,” said Gildea, “worse!”
-
-“What, then?”
-
-“You believe in theology which is as bad a superstition as, what Judge
-Parker calls, ‘the calm blissful sea of pure _theistic_ belief.’ (You
-notice how emphatic he is about his superstition and casual about his
-truth?)”
-
-“Stop a moment now, my bright Apollo, and explain to me, what you have
-not yet attempted to, what the superstition of Theism is?”
-
-“_What is Theism?_—‘It is a faith,’ answers our good Judge, ‘which is
-_the_ faith of all others’ (that is to say the faith of Judge Parker and
-all the ‘celebrated unitarian ministers’), ‘to be clung to, cherished
-and maintained as long as man exists—belief, trust in, and love for
-the All-loving, All-righteous, All-wise Universal Spirit of God.’ Now
-observe that this faith, this unique faith of faiths, is ‘refreshing,
-and invigorating in its simplicity’—(as, we might add, is also its
-formulator, if we did not shun flippancy as we would the pest)—‘warm and
-glowing in its absolute unclouded devotion to, love for, and perfect
-trust in God alone—_proclaimed by_ NATURE!’ O wise Judge, O upright
-Judge, O Judge much more elder than thy looks, where, when, and how,
-in the name of all observers of Nature from Darwin through Haeckel to
-Tennyson, did you discover therein either this love or righteousness of
-which you make such mention? ‘The struggle for existence and survival of
-the fittest,’ the parent of theistic righteousness and love! ‘_Proclaimed
-by_ NATURE!’—and Nature in italics! O immemorial phrase that eats up
-all the others even as Aaron’s rod swallowed up all the rods of the
-magicians!—Who, after this, would care to trouble himself with all the
-other potent items of this faith of faiths? The idea of God, God ‘the
-All-loving, All-righteous, All-wise Universal Spirit’ ‘originated in
-instinct,’ and is not the slow and painful growth of time? Think of the
-love of Jehovah! the righteousness of Baal! the wisdom of Moloch!—The
-beauty and sympathy and warmth of the theistic form of belief,” he
-added, “are recognizable as a half-hearted mixture of the clap-trap of
-Religion and Science—Superstition, which knows that it is naked, and sews
-fig-leaves together, and make itself an apron!”
-
-Maddock, however, could have no confidence in the expressed views of this
-man, from whose face the light of amusement, amusement at others and
-himself, seemed never to be absent long. There had, indeed, been moments
-when it required all Maddock’s intuition to prevent his perception rising
-in absolute revolt against what seemed Gildea’s flagrant insincerity:
-then his perception had said to him that this was but a youth, endowed
-with brilliant abilities, the mere exercise of which was a pleasure
-and satisfaction to him, caring too little for any one thing to owe it
-loyalty. Whereto his intuition had replied that this was not a youth but
-a man, and a man whose secret could not thus be read. And the feeling
-that Maddock had, once before that day, felt towards Gildea returned
-now with an intensity and strangeness that seemed to Maddock, when
-he afterwards considered it, as little short of wonderful. Maddock’s
-profundity was often beyond the average, and herein indeed lay his
-secret, herein nestled “the heart of his mystery.”
-
-“And yet,” said Gildea, “here, as in the other case, the common-sense
-view of belief has, of course, its excellence. ‘To take nothing else,’
-says the Judge, ‘the very idea of “space” and “distance” that astronomy
-has given us fills the mind with wonder and with awe, clothing nature
-with a sublimity, a majesty, and a beauty which, otherwise, we had never
-known.’ For observe that _Space_ and _Time_, these two inexhaustible
-ideas, are not, to our average intelligent secular view of things,
-the mere words that they are to the orthodox: they are realities thus
-far, that they help us to perceive that ‘there exists throughout
-space,—throughout the vast limitless universe,—motion, order, beauty;
-that there is behind all motion, all order, all beauty, a force that
-produces the motion, the order, and the beauty.’ And further. They are
-realities thus far, that they help us to be (whatever Dr. Maddock, in
-a polemico-theological spirit, may declare) earnest in our life and
-earnest in our wish to bring home to others the truth of that life, a
-‘most serious and difficult task!’ They help us to all this, and an
-unrecognized intuitional belief in the essence which, in other forms
-and other men whom we fail to appreciate, not to say understand, we
-condemn—our intuitional belief, I say, in the Faith, Hope, and Love,
-which are the great movers of the progress of Humanity both upward and
-onward, will not let the forms that portions of this belief may take in
-us make the whole grow cold, lifeless, petrified, but the beauty and
-melody of our acts will often be found to contradict the deformity and
-discord of our words.”
-
-“I confess, Sir Horace,” said Maddock, “that you are a puzzle to me. I
-really should not be surprised to see you some day walking side by side
-with the Judge, the best friends in the world!”
-
-“And perhaps,” said Gildea, “the Judge would not subsequently be
-surprised to see me doing the same with yourself! For that indeed is the
-only use of such poor creatures as I: we see the good in opponents and
-serve as links in the spiritual bridge of Humanity.”
-
-“I should very much like,” said Maddock, “to hear how you would abuse me
-to him. I think I see the urbane expression with which you would delight
-him by shewing how, in this ecclesiastical, metaphysical, theological
-polemist here, habemus confitentem asinum; and then turn upon him and
-say: ‘The question that now arises, my dear Judge, is, has this man
-nothing but faults—has he no excellencies? does there remain, after the
-attack on him of so eminent a biblical critic as Judge Parker is, no
-residuum of real and vital truth? Let us see.’”
-
-“Doctor, Doctor,” said Gildea, “to make me laugh so, is cruel!”
-
-“You do not consider me,” said Maddock, “in the least.”
-
-They both laughed heartily.
-
-“And now,” said Maddock, “in order to complete the matter, tell me, what
-is _your_ superstition? Here are Alcock and Parker with their respective
-superstitions of Atheism and Theism, of purely scientific and purely
-ethical progress. Here is Hawkesbury with his superstition about the
-unselfishness of the People and the practical neglect of Morality. Here
-is Fitzgerald with his superstitious belief in a Church whose splendid
-logical consistency will prove its ruin. Here am I, a member of a sect
-that more nearly approaches ideal Christianity than any other sect in
-existence, and is a logical absurdity—blessed with the superstition of
-theology and, worse, of polemical theology, with.... But I cannot express
-all my superstitions: they seem more in number than the hairs of my head!”
-
-“Let us say broadly, then, that Alcock and the Judge are those who have
-superstition _without_, and Fitzgerald, you, and to a certain degree
-Hawkesbury, those who have superstition _with_, Religion.”
-
-“And that you?”
-
-“And that _I_ am he who unites in my proper person the superstitions of
-all with the actualities of none.”
-
-There was a pause. Then:
-
-“Sir Horace,” said Maddock, “I take you seriously. And I will confess
-that I would sooner, far sooner, be any one of us than you.—Verily and
-indeed,” he added, solemnly, “I cannot see why you should care to live.”
-
-“Nor yet,” said Gildea, “why I should care to die?”
-
-Maddock was possessed by sadness. The absolute, inevitable hopelessness
-of this man made him again turn faint and sick at heart.
-
-“Nor yet,” he said, “why you should care to die.”
-
-There was a long pause. Never again could Maddock be illuded into
-momentary misunderstanding of this man: he had now not only seen this
-strange soul laid bare before him and felt the influence of that sight,
-but had felt as if he had, as it were, almost received it into his own,
-almost made it a part of himself.
-
-At last:
-
-“I asked you to believe,” he said with a touch of wistfulness in face
-and tone, “that I was your true friend. You will perhaps, forgive me if
-I ... if I offer you the one token of it that seems left to me to offer.
-Some day—I cannot tell, but so I trust—you may care to think that, each
-night you close your eyes in sleep, there is one whose prayers for you
-are rising, as he believes, to the God and Father of us all, to bless and
-keep you, to lift up the light of his countenance upon you, and to give
-you peace.”
-
-The two men stood facing each other for a few moments in silence: then
-their hands met in a close, long clasp, and parted; and they turned,
-standing almost touching each other, looking out over the lovely scene of
-earth and water and sky.
-
-At last:
-
-“Those clouds,” said Gildea softly, “they have a peerless radiancy. One
-seems to understand how the men of the past days saw a spirit therein,
-and held converse with it with wonder and delight and awe. Those were
-days of a music and beauty and sweetness such as we shall never know
-again.”
-
-“_If not_,” said Maddock as softly,
-
- “_if not the calm_
- _of its early mountainous shore,_
- _yet a solemn peace of its own._”
-
-A footstep was heard behind them. It was Edgar, come to say that Mrs. and
-Miss Medwin had arrived and were up in the drawing-room with Mr. Alcock.
-
-Gildea stepped out onto the lawn.
-
-“Let us go up by the balcony,” he said to Maddock.
-
-
-VI.
-
-Mrs. Medwin was the only native-born australian lady who was “good
-style.” So at least a Governor’s wife, about the “goodness” of whose
-“style” there could be no question, had declared. It was not, this
-Governor’s wife had explained, that there were no ladies in Australia,
-(There were not however many, par parenthèse, and such style as they had
-was at best but second-rate american), but they none of them had that
-manner of dressing, moving, and speaking which characterizes what (to use
-this rather objectional term again, for want of a better) we call “good
-style.” This Governor’s wife, with her usual delicate feminine instinct,
-had felt on the occasion of this now socially celebrated description
-of Mrs. Medwin, that she had not quite satisfied herself, that the
-description did not contain the truth, all the truth, and nothing but
-the truth, of the matter; and she was right, it did not. Mrs. Medwin
-undoubtedly possessed that serene refinement of movement and speech which
-go so far to making up that all but defunct individuality, a “lady,” but
-she was wanting in the final gift of a “lady,” social charm. The flower
-was scentless, or rather the scent it had was of another description.
-Her life had not, indeed, been favourable to the development of this
-final gift. She had been married early, a ready enough victim to the
-convenience of her family, to a man with whom she had little in common
-and much in opposition. He was liked by none and feared by all those
-who had any personal dealings with him: his savage outbursts of passion
-recalled to memory the dark stories that were told of his father who had,
-as the Australians euphemistically put it, come out at the government
-expense. But she, having calmly decided to accept Medwin and life with
-him, set herself by the sheer intrepidity of her sweet high beauty, to
-dominate them. She succeeded. And she won, not only the control, but
-the deep, admiring love, of the man. Then came the catastrophe which
-those who knew him had prophesied and recanted. In one of his savage
-outbursts of passion, he struck her. The blow was a cruel one and its
-results life-long. Much as she then suffered in body and soul, she could
-have no other feeling for him than that of pity. For days he would take
-no food, but sat in a chair outside her door, like a dog that waits in
-silence on an idolized master; and, when he was first permitted to enter,
-flung himself onto his knees by the bedside, sobbing and moaning and
-covering her hand with kisses. And she, who had had little or no care for
-him before, save as the principal incident in her life, now to her own
-surprise found that from out this appalling misery was born affection
-for him and even love. Her life from then onwards had been spent in
-a struggle far more terrible than that which she had waged with him.
-At first the idea of wasting away inch by inch on a diseased sick-bed
-almost overwhelmed her: she longed, she prayed for death. But death
-did not come; and then her spiritual pride began to reassert itself,
-and, like the captain of a battered ship, she once more thought how she
-could rule these waters that had ruled her. For long it seemed as if
-the effort would be too much for her: she said to herself one sleepless
-horrible night that she was being consumed alive. Her very latest gift
-seemed but as an added thorn to her; for now that she had affection
-and even love, she had also jealousy. The spell of her sweet, fearless
-health and strength and beauty was passed from him save as a memory: his
-love, deepened it might be by his abiding remorse, was (as she thought)
-deprived of that admiration which had been her first and strongest
-hold on him. Nothing more pitiful, than to see the womanliness in her
-assert itself against her pride and speak in jealousy! With wonderful
-intuition, however, she divined and with wonderful determination carried
-out, what was the only plan of still keeping for herself his admiration.
-She, who since she had married him had not given his business affairs
-a thought, now gave herself up to the mastery of them. She had herself
-taught all arithmetic thoroughly, and, in little less than three years
-after her misfortune, knew more of all his business affairs than he did
-himself. And more. She stirred up in him the ambition to become the
-leader of that great amorphous section of colonial society of which he
-was a member, the land-owners, the “squatters.” She had a certain liking
-for society, and when she was in England went into it as much as her
-extremely delicate health would permit her: in Australia, however, where,
-as she said, there was no society, or only of a sort which she did not
-like, she yet entertained a good deal, as she wished her husband to be
-popular in view of his entering parliament and attempting to organize his
-party. But her entertainment was more after the fashion of a listless
-social empress than an interested hostess: she did not care enough about
-these people to make, what would have been to her, a painful physical
-effort to attract them. She had indeed something of the feeling of one
-of the old aristocrats forced by the pressure of the time to open their
-houses to the Middle-class; she acknowledged the salute of her guests,
-and provided them with fine rooms, music, amusement, foods and drinks,
-and what more could they want? Her coldness was generally ascribed to
-her notorious ill-health, but the young people felt instinctively that
-she condemned them, and were not drawn to her. Between her and Gildea,
-however, there was an understanding that was not without either charm or
-brightness to both. He understood her, and she half-felt this and, never
-having been really understood before, was in a way pleased at it and
-drawn to him. She amused him and at times, thanks to the pity with which
-her sweet courage inspired him, affected him. He was not too without
-respect for her intuitional capacities. He said once to Sydney Medwin,
-who was complaining that his mother was fifty years behind the time,
-(Mrs. Medwin supported her husband in his views for their elder son),
-that, on the contrary, she was fifty years before; for she was the only
-person he had met or heard of in the Colony who clearly saw that the Land
-Question was upon them. Mrs. Medwin indeed, as has been noticed, saw that
-the attempt of the Australian land-owners to repeat the performance of
-those of England and form a dominant aristocracy, would be met with keen
-opposition, and that the only hope of success lay in creating out of an
-amorphous class a party, and organizing it. The feeling of possession
-and caste had grown a strong one in her, in her more or less absorbed in
-the life of her husband. Hers, then, with all its powers of passionate
-attachment to an individual, was one of those not frequent female souls
-that see beyond a man into the cause which he represents. Her elder son
-she looked upon as a failure, as useless, as worth no more than making
-behave himself. Her younger son, Stephen, she was training with some
-care, and to him the far greater bulk of his father’s wealth and property
-was at present destined. Miss Medwin, whom Mrs. Medwin called her niece,
-and who called Mr. and Mrs. Medwin respectively uncle and aunt, but who
-was in reality no such relation, being the daughter of Mr. Medwin’s
-father’s brother’s son; of Miss Medwin it will perhaps be enough to
-state, that the report which Gildea had unexpectedly received of her from
-the Private Enquiry Office was correct, and that she was the possessor
-of a moderate fortune who had come out to Australia, half for a change
-from her English life of which she was weary, half in search of an old
-schoolfellow to whom she was much attached.
-
-Gildea and Maddock stepped out together along the lawn and mounted the
-steps that led up to the sitting-room balcony. The sunlight, intercepted
-by an angle of the house, covered half of this portion of it, almost so
-exactly half that the glass door, open in the middle of the bay window,
-was partly in the sun and partly in the shade. As they reached the
-balcony, Gildea, with the gesture of a courteous host, indicated to
-Maddock to enter first, but he, with the no less courteous gesture of
-a guest, refused and returned the indication. Gildea stepped into the
-open doorway and, as he stood there for a moment with the sunlight and
-shade playing upon him, met the gaze of Miss Medwin, seated upright,
-looking almost proudly before her. Behind her was the dark red of the
-curtain with its subdued white of delicately wrought muslin. Two rays of
-sunlight lay along the rich variegated colours of the carpet, diffusing
-a little light about her. She was very beautiful. They had recognized
-one another at once. And more. They both were undergoing that feeling
-of half-forgotten recollection that affects us with such unprepared and
-mystic strangeness. Had they, then, seen one another before that day
-when she had almost ridden over him under the Domain trees? had they met
-in some way similar to their meeting now? At such moments the past, the
-present, and the future, all half unknown, seem to join hands, and kiss,
-and part with eyes dimmed with a regretless regret.
-
-It had passed in a few moments. Gildea, with something that might be
-called a sudden freak of tact, stepped into the room, turning a quite
-self-possessed face to Mrs. Medwin. She was sitting on a sofa dispensing
-serene little nothings to Alcock, whose face and manner beamed with
-social polish. Gildea came straight to her and made his greetings with
-winning grace: then, obeying a slight gesture of hers, moved aside and
-she introduced him to her niece, Miss Medwin. With the same winning
-grace, head courteously bowed, he stepped to Miss Medwin, and lightly
-raised the hand she held up to him. Maddock was greeting Mrs. Medwin.
-
-“I think,” said Gildea smiling slightly, “I think, Miss Medwin, that we
-are not quite strangers.”
-
-“And how is Mrs. Maddock?” asked Mrs. Medwin, “I hope she is quite well.”
-Gildea sat down in a chair by Miss Medwin.
-
-“No,” answered Miss Medwin gravely, “I was careless enough to have almost
-ridden onto you.”
-
-“The carelessness was mine. I was dreaming. Day-dreamers should be
-awakened.” Maddock was assuring Mrs. Medwin that Mrs. Maddock was
-in excellent health, and at this very moment enjoying herself quite
-satisfactorily without the society of her lord and master.
-
-“Indeed,” said Mrs. Medwin, “I hope we shall be able to see her before we
-leave Sydney. We are stopping at Winslow’s.”
-
-“That,” Miss Medwin said gravely again, “seems to me to depend a good
-deal on the day.”
-
-“Mr. Medwin is _with_ you, Mrs. Medwin?” interrogated Alcock with his
-politest manner, “I understood that I should not have the pleasure of
-seeing him till monday or tuesday?”
-
-“It is true,” said Gildea, “that to-day the reality of things is so
-troubling to the peace and pleasure of many of us, that it is cruel to
-wake us from our dreams.”
-
-“Oh no!” said Mrs. Medwin with her usual unruffled serenity, “Mr. Medwin
-is not coming up till tuesday or perhaps wednesday.”
-
-A swift sense of the humour of a social scene like this, where the
-tendency of things is for the dramatis personæ to beat unlimited time
-with musical voices, graceful gestures, and a charming expression of
-countenance, dawned upon Gildea as a memory of almost distant days. The
-poetry of society is mostly expended in its common-places. To be able to
-do this is an art, an art of which provincial and colonial society is
-ignorant. Hence Gildea’s sense of the humour of the present scene was as
-an almost distant memory. “Here,” he thought, “we have four excellent
-musicians who would make the most charmingly meaningless quartet
-possible, Alcock being reduced to the part of accidental audience.”
-It was not, of course, that Gildea’s talk with Miss Medwin was social
-time-beating: it was, rather, spiritual time-beating, rendered in a
-manner that partook of the social. Miss Medwin had not recovered from the
-to her strange sensations of this second sudden meeting with him: she was
-neither as consummate a master of her emotions as he was, nor careful of
-becoming one, nor yet was she prepared, as he was, for their meeting: she
-was left by it as one is who has had some swift revelation of good or
-evil in himself—considering himself if he really was this, is that, and
-will be something that contains them both. The individualities of other
-men she had known had touched her as much, or almost as much, as his had
-on that day in the Domain, but none had ever entered into her and, as it
-were, “blown a thrilling summons to her will” as his had, as he stood
-looking at her in the shadowy sunlit doorway there. And her will had
-answered that summons, and instantaneously. To him that sight of her,
-sitting upright, looking almost proudly before her, was ever to be as the
-sight of an Antigone, one who felt “it was better not to be than not be
-noble,” the depth of whose scorn for unworthiness was equal to her love,
-high as the everlasting hills, deep as the unplumbed sea.
-
-“Yes,” she said, “it is sometimes cruel to wake us from our dreams, and
-yet it is best, I think.”
-
-“—You think it is best to modify our poetry with prose? Was it better to
-have awakened Shelley, and given us his ‘Prometheus’ with wooden limbs of
-a day’s social dogmatism, than to have let him make delicate music in the
-italian woods and by the italian shores, for ever sweet and fair?”
-
-“So he told me,” said Alcock, “and I was very glad to hear it. The
-interests of all wealth, whether in land or in money, is identic. But
-we have no organization.—And Labour,” he added with a look to Maddock,
-“as Mr. Hawkesbury just told us, is organizing, if it is not already
-organized.”
-
-If it had been possible for Mrs. Medwin to be amazed at anything, she
-would have been amazed at this. Hawkesbury had a few years ago been an
-employé on one of Medwin’s stations, the very station to which she was
-now on her road. This was a reflection which was positively annoying
-to her. “It would,” she had once simply remarked, “have been as well
-perhaps, if he had eaten some poisoned meat when he was there, as they
-used to say the troublesome blacks did. He is a danger to society.”
-Sydney Medwin, who liked to do his best to ruffle his mother’s serenity
-now and then, used not unfrequently to speak in praise of Hawkesbury
-(his friend Hawkesbury, a clever fellow too, and who would make his mark
-out here yet!) and had once even, as Gildea told Maddock, offered to
-introduce him to her. “You know, Sydney,” said Mrs. Medwin simply, “I am
-not interested in Mr. Hawkesbury. If you like to make up a shooting-party
-at Lathong,” (a station of Medwin’s in Victoria), “with all the men on
-the station, I daresay he would be pleased to join you.”—What, then, was
-the meaning of Mr. Alcock’s remark that this firebrand socialist, this
-impertinent journalist and pamphleteer, had been _just telling_ something
-to Mr. Alcock, Dr. Maddock, and presumably Sir Horace?
-
-“I’m sure,” said Alcock with his politest manner again, “that we all
-of us cannot be too—too pleased to have found a lady who realized
-this, and could help us to what we so much want—a ... a sort of general
-rallying-point.—Nothing,” he proceeded, “struck me so much in England
-as the use that the political parties made of their social gatherings,
-and they tell me that this was much more the case once than it is at
-present.” Alcock found a certain amount of difficulty in saying that he
-thought women might, after all, be made of some use in political life, in
-a manner that should be pleasing to _this_ woman.
-
-The talk progressed more or less easily, Maddock, with a humorous
-perception of the effect Alcock’s innocent allusion to Hawkesbury had
-produced on Mrs. Medwin, playing the part of conversational mediator
-between the two.
-
-“You are not, then,” said Gildea, in answer to a remark of Miss Medwin’s,
-“in sympathy with dreams and dreamers?”
-
-“No,” she answered shaking her head, “not if they take their dreams for
-realities. It is just, I think, because we have been dreaming so long and
-dreaming so much, that our waking is so miserable.—You speak of prose
-and poetry,” she continued, turning her head a little and looking at
-him, “as if the prose had something disagreeable in it. Well, so it may
-have—to the dreamers. I too am a dreamer, of course, in my way; but I
-dream about the earth and the things of the earth, and so my dreams are
-real as the wind is real, or the sunlight, or the moonlight, or the light
-of the stars, none of which fear the contact of the earth or the water.
-But these people seem to me to dream of the things of heaven, filling all
-space with them. But space is empty—at any rate of things like theirs.”
-
-“You do not believe,” he said, “as Taine does, that ‘at bottom there is
-nothing truly sweet and beautiful in our life but our dreams?’”
-
-“Yes,” she said, “yes and no! But what does it matter _what_ I believe?
-I have no opinion of my own in this way. You would make me dogmatic. Now
-I shall always try not to be dogmatic. I rebel against defining things,
-especially things that I like; they are never the same afterwards. But
-I am often doing this, and I have to suffer for it. This comes of being
-born in an age which can describe everything and do nothing.—You see, you
-make me petulant!”
-
-It flashed across Gildea’s mind as she finished speaking that there
-was a great difference between the manner of his talk with this girl
-and with that bright intelligent girl in Melbourne. He perceived the
-difference, and the greatness of the difference, but not much farther.
-It was many years, and in point of spiritual time many ages, since
-Gildea had been blind to the fact that another nature was influencing
-and being influenced by his own with the force of fatality. It is the
-distinguishing mark of the moderns that they are not blind in this
-respect. None of Shakspere’s men, not even the intellectual Hamlet,
-get beyond a suspicion that Fate is playing upon them. The chief cause
-of Hamlet’s delay lies in this suspicion and his antagonism to it: the
-others submit blindly, and only recognise fatality when the “wheel has
-come full circle,” but _the process_ of fatality is all unknown to them,
-not even a mystery. Miss Medwin too was in the same state as Gildea but
-even deeper in it. She spoke to him as she had never spoken to anyone
-else in her life, as to a comrade, without leaning, without supporting,
-with complete simplicity. The spell that compels a mutual truthfulness is
-the perception that you understand and are understood.
-
-“I see,” he said, “that _you_ complain of your age because its senses are
-deranged, and idlers like me because the gifts that it assigns to the
-doers, as opposed to the thinkers, are not gold but tinsel.”
-
-“No, no,” she said, “I do not complain of my age! If I complained of
-anything, it would be of myself who am unfit for my age. And I do not
-think that the gifts of our actions are tinsel.”
-
-“Perhaps you are right, and the fault is mine because _my_ senses are
-deranged?”
-
-“There is great room for action now, as it seems to me. If a man appeared
-to-morrow with the secret of attraction in him—the secret that Napoleon
-had or Byron—he would control us as much as they did. They are ours too,
-these men.”
-
-“But we think too much? we can describe everything, and do nothing?”
-
-“I do not know,” she said, “I have no opinion!”
-
-“Alice,” said Mrs. Medwin.
-
-“Yes, aunt,” answered Miss Medwin.
-
-“Will you please make the tea?” she said.
-
-Miss Medwin rose at once, Gildea rising too, smiling. It was Mrs.
-Medwin’s peculiar charm that, at certain apparently eccentric moments,
-she would speak and act with the pretty spontaneous sweetness of a young
-girl. This was the scent this wonderful flower had retained, despite all
-the terrible heats of the noontide and frosts of the dawn that had fallen
-upon its life. She had spoken in this manner now.
-
-Miss Medwin went behind the tea-table which Edgar had just brought in
-and on which he was placing the bright silver tea-urn, and the water-can
-with its blue-violet-flamed spirit-lamp; then, at a nod from Gildea,
-disappeared. Miss Medwin poured out a cup of tea which Gildea took to
-Mrs. Medwin, returning for the milk and sugar, while Miss Medwin took the
-second cup to Maddock, who received it with suave and charming thanks.
-Mrs. Medwin thanked Gildea, who passed on with the milk and sugar to
-Maddock, and, as he returned to the tea-table for the cakes and biscuits,
-passed Miss Medwin with the third cup on her way to Alcock. Alcock
-received her with thanks profuse and jocular.
-
-“Do you take milk and sugar?” asked Miss Medwin.
-
-“No, no, thank you, Miss Medwin,” returned Alcock, “I take neither!”
-
-Gildea arrived, with a plate of cakes in one hand and a plate of biscuits
-in the other. Mrs. Medwin recognised in the biscuits those of a sort to
-which she was somewhat addicted, and divined that Gildea had noticed the
-fact.
-
-“Thank you, Sir Horace,” she said, with her manner of pretty spontaneous
-sweetness, “And presently Alice shall play for you. I know you will find
-her style of playing a treat.”
-
-Sir Horace made a suitable reply and passed on with the cakes and
-biscuits. Mrs. Medwin and Maddock began to talk together, Alcock playing
-the part of silent member.
-
-“There is your tea,” Miss Medwin said to Gildea as he came back to the
-tea-table. She was standing with her own cup in her hand as if about to
-move away to a seat. Gildea proffered the biscuits. She took one. He put
-down the plates and took up his cup.
-
-“You are an epicure in tea,” she said, sipping a little of hers from her
-tea-spoon, “are you not?”
-
-“I do not know,” he answered with a slightly amused look, “but I believe
-that the Russians are the only people in Europe who understand it.”
-
-“They take neither sugar nor milk, do they? and a slice of lemon floating
-in the tea?”
-
-They were moving back to their places. He assented.
-
-“And who are the only people in Europe who understand coffee?” she asked.
-
-“Undoubtedly the French.”
-
-“Ah, you mean the café au lait—with the milk and coffee both boiling and
-poured in together? I like it that way, but not with too much milk. We
-had a french cook once who used to make it for us, and, as I liked it, of
-course I found out how to make it myself.”
-
-“Yes,” he said, “certainly coffee with cold milk is a barbarism; but the
-shape in which I like coffee best is as, what the French call, café noir.”
-
-Miss Medwin said she had never seen it in that way, and, in answer to
-Gildea’s slight expression of surprise, explained that she had never been
-in France. Gildea described the café noir and the proper manner in which
-to drink it.
-
-“You fill the spoon with cognac,” he said, “into which you put a lump of
-sugar—In France the sugar is in little thin slabs, not, as with us, in
-squares—and then you set the cognac alight. This melts down the sugar
-and, when all the spirit is burnt up, except that which saturates the
-sugar, and goes out, you put in your spoon. The flavour of burnt sugar
-and cognac is pleasant.”
-
-“It is indeed, Sir Horace,” said Alcock, tired of playing the part of
-silent member in the other conversation, “I drank it that way myself
-in Paris. A friend of mine, an American told me of it. Paris is a very
-pleasant place. You have a treat in store for you, going there, Miss
-Medwin.”
-
-“Yes,” she answered, “I should like to go to Paris; the Louvre is there.”
-
-“A very fine collection,” said Alcock, “I was much struck with it!
-Unfortunately all the best works of art are now either in collections, or
-so expensive that they are out of the reach of us Australians who have
-claims upon us more pressing. You saw the Picture Gallery in Melbourne?”
-
-“Yes, I saw it. I think it is rather painful. I liked the Library better.”
-
-“The building—the room, you mean?”
-
-“No, I meant the books. I used to go and sit there and read.”
-
-“Oh indeed?” said Alcock. “And what now do you think of the Picture
-Gallery here?”
-
-“Alice,” said Mrs. Medwin, “you are not to say! I won’t have you say that
-the things in Sydney are better than in Melbourne!”
-
-“Very well, aunt,” said Alice, “then I will not say it.”
-
-“And now,” said Mrs. Medwin, “I want you to play for us.”
-
-Miss Medwin rose at once with a look for the piano, which was on the
-other side of the curtains. Both she and Gildea were amused and delighted
-by Mrs. Medwin’s characteristic interruption and command: Maddock
-was amused: even Alcock, who did not yet know her ways, was too much
-influenced by the charm of this her happiest manner to think it rude or
-imperious. “She is such an invalid,” he said, recounting this incident
-as an anecdote to a friend of his at the Melbourne Club, “and rules
-everyone about her like a little empress. But her manner is irresistible,
-really irresistible; and it doesn’t offend you in the least—in fact you
-rather like it. There is no woman in Melbourne who could help us to
-consolidate a party in the english social manner as _she_ could. And I
-really attach—I really do!—considerable importance to the idea.” Such
-was the subsequent expression of the thoughts which were passing through
-the mind of Alcock as Gildea, having held back the curtain for Miss
-Medwin to pass, was opening the piano for her. Mrs. Medwin sat in serene
-unconsciousness of the possibility of her manners being considered as
-otherwise than her own, and would have been surprised if she had heard
-that anyone thought they were open to question.
-
-“Is there any piece, aunt,” asked Miss Medwin, bending back so as to see
-Mrs. Medwin through the curtains, “that you would like me to play?”
-
-“Oh no!” Mrs. Medwin said, “Why, I wanted you to play for Sir Horace, not
-for me!”
-
-Miss Medwin smiled assent, and, after a few moments’ pause to consider
-what piece she would play and to collect her thoughts, began. The piece
-was the one which she considered would most please her audience, and
-which of course she knew. It was Chopin’s Eleventh Nocturne. It suited
-her humour at many times, but particularly at the present. The Nocturne
-is divided into two parts: passionate and half-weary wandering, and rest
-in which passion is merged in peace. To her it conjured up the vision of
-a twilight road winding up between woody rolling fields and a plantation.
-The dark figure of the man, whose passionate and half-weary wandering is
-here expressing itself, is coming slowly up the road. Low down and far
-away behind the close straight stems of the plantation lie a few pallid
-veins of sunset light. The shadows are stealing swiftly around him. He is
-near to hopelessness, near to the wish to
-
- lie down like a tired child,
- and weep away the life of care
- which he has borne and yet must bear:
-
-but passion and yearning are still too strong in him for self-abandonment.
-Then he hears sounds—a strain of music and voices—the nuns or monks
-perhaps, singing an evening hymn to the blessèd Mary, mother of passion
-and of peace! He moves on slowly and softly, listening. His hopelessness,
-his weariness are soothed into rest: trust enters into him, trust in the
-aims of life, that general life in which his own is now merged, even as
-the yearning of passion is lost in the sweetness of peace....
-
-When she had finished, there was a long pause, and then Gildea thanked
-her for the pleasure she had given him. Mrs. Medwin and Maddock began
-to speak of the piece, Maddock expressing his pleasure at it and his
-admiration for Miss Medwin’s playing.
-
-“You are, then, a lover of this Chopin?” said Gildea to Miss Medwin. “But
-he is not your Master, as you would say?”
-
-“No,” she answered, “he is not my Master.—I suppose you mean Beethoven by
-that?” she added, looking up at him. He assented.
-
-“And yet,” she said, “I cannot somehow call even him Master. I do not
-love music as I ought to do—especially Beethoven and Wagner. They are
-great, these men, very great, but I cannot lose myself in their spirit as
-I should do. I often feel this.”
-
-“It was one of Heine’s few fantastic sayings,” said Gildea, “that
-Chopin was the Raphael of the piano, and indeed a piece like this, or
-the stately opening of the Thirteenth Nocturne—You remember it?” (She
-assented)—“or the Marche Funèbre, help to see what he meant; but to call
-him a Raphael seems to me inapt. No Raphael, for instance, would have
-dreamed of so entirely giving himself up to the influence of his passion
-as Chopin does. Surely it is not in _his_ spirit that you can lose
-yourself?”
-
-“No,” she said, “less than in Beethoven’s. But perhaps Heine only meant
-his expression about Chopin comparatively. Chopin, you remember, is the
-only great composer who devoted himself to the piano. Certainly he is a
-master of it, but his style of art is not like Raphael’s—at least so far
-as I know of Raphael.”
-
-They came back talking into the other room, where Gildea, from a glance
-at Mrs. Medwin’s face, perceived that she now wished them to go down
-to the yacht. In a few minutes he brought the conversation round to
-the subject and, having asked and she having expressed her wish, the
-party was presently crossing the lawn on its way down to the small
-landing-stage, close to which the “Petrel” had now been brought in. Mrs.
-Medwin, between Maddock and Alcock, was some yards ahead of Gildea and
-Miss Medwin who were following them.
-
-“You did not know,” Gildea was saying to her, “that Mr. Hawkesbury was a
-friend of mine? He has been having lunch with us, and only just went away
-before you arrived. He, and another friend of mine whom you perhaps have
-met in Melbourne, Mr. Fitzgerald—No?—were unable to stay.”
-
-“So I supposed,” said Miss Medwin, “or something like that.—You do not
-perhaps know,” she added, “that my aunt has a dislike for him that really
-almost amounts to antipathy?”
-
-“Yes,” said Gildea, “I was aware of it: his social opinions are too much
-for her, and Sydney Medwin annoys her by constantly mentioning both
-them and him. A meeting would have been awkward indeed, but I made my
-calculations carefully, and I should have regretted not giving my friend
-Fitzgerald the opportunity of making Hawkesbury’s acquaintance. In a few
-days one will be going due north and the other due south, but I hope they
-will meet again later on. Two more charming examples of the two species
-of enthusiast it would be hard to find.”
-
-“What do you call the two species?”
-
-“The enthusiast of heat and the enthusiast of light: both are to me
-equally beautiful, equally charming!”
-
-“Mr. Hawkesbury, then,” she said, “is the enthusiast of heat? I have
-never known any man so much in earnest as he is. He seems to understand
-nothing but devotion or abhorrence; and yet how well he generally
-conceals this from those whom he thinks unworthy of the knowledge of
-it! His patience and courtesy have often astonished and filled me with
-admiration. I have heard him arguing with a stupid opponent, and I have
-heard him addressing a crowd. His self-restraint, his clearness, were
-simply wonderful. Has he ever spoken to you of his friend and Master, as
-he says,—James Holden?”
-
-“No,” answered Gildea, “but I happen to have seen Holden myself.—But here
-we are!”
-
-Alcock from the deck and Maddock from the shore had assisted Mrs. Medwin
-over the plank into the “Petrel,” and now Miss Medwin, after shaking
-hands, expressing her regrets that he could not come, and saying good-bye
-to Maddock, followed.
-
-Mrs. Medwin, Miss Medwin, Alcock and Gildea gathered opposite Maddock,
-with whom they talked while the ropes were being cast loose and the yacht
-got ready for starting. Then, as she glided away, bending slightly as
-the wind caught and filled her sails, Maddock took off his hat and stood
-bare-headed, bowing and waving farewell.
-
-A more charming day for such a trip, it would have been hard to choose.
-The air was warmer than in the morning, but the breeze was still strong
-enough to prevent the volumes of foul smoke which issued from the funnels
-of the harbour steamers from polluting the air and spoiling the view.
-The “Petrel” made straight for the main channel of the harbour in the
-direction of the Heads.
-
-While Gildea was away talking with his skipper about the arrangements
-that had been made for the trip, the other three passengers moved about
-looking at the yacht, praising and admiring its neatness and cleanness.
-And it was worthy too both of the praise and admiration which they
-bestowed on its general completeness, that namely of silence, and of
-the praise and admiration which they who were skilled in such matters
-bestowed on its sailing-powers.
-
-Presently Gildea rejoined them, and the conversation flowed on lightly
-and pleasantly.
-
-“I notice,” said Miss Medwin, “that you carry very little gear up aloft.
-Your masts too are unusually tall, are they not?”
-
-Gildea gave a pleased smile.
-
-“Yes,” he said, “they call her the ghost yacht at Cowes. I use as little
-hempen rope as I can. When the great point is speed, every extra inch
-that you give to the prise of the wind is of importance. The steel, you
-see, does not offer half as much resistance as the ordinary hempen rope.
-Besides which, I have in several cases done away with a rope altogether
-where I believed one, if properly handled, could do for two.”
-
-Miss Medwin, who knew the rigging and handling of a sailing-ship fairly
-well, asked for an explanation of how one or two things were done, which
-he gave her with a certain pleasure.
-
-“And what,” she said, “do your sailors think of your alterations?”
-
-He laughed.
-
-“They say the Old Man—that is my name with them—”
-
-“It is the name of all skippers with their sailors, is it not?” she asked
-smiling.
-
-He assented.
-
-“—They say, or rather used to say, that I had a twist that way. The
-conservatism of sailors and builders as regards ships is quite wonderful.
-Imagine that, when they came to build iron sailing ships instead of wood,
-they actually had and have the stupidity to put up masts of the same
-circumference as the old wooden ones, although thereby they gain no extra
-strength, and expose square yards on yards needlessly to the prise of the
-wind! I would venture to say that this alone makes a difference of three
-or four knots per hour in a head wind to the speed of the vessel.”
-
-Miss Medwin thought Gildea more charming in his capacity of intelligent
-amateur captain than as consummate master of things social. They moved
-down together towards the stern, and stood there talking and looking
-forward. Mrs. Medwin and Alcock were standing together talking a little
-way in front of them. Then Edgar appeared with seats and rugs, which he
-offered to Mrs. Medwin and Alcock, who sat down, Mrs. Medwin with a rug
-over her knees, and then came aft to the other two, who accepted two
-chairs, but for the present remained standing as they talked.
-
-Presently there came a pause in the conversation and Miss Medwin sat
-down, Gildea following suit. The pause became a silence. At last he broke
-it.
-
-“You have noticed,” he said, “how different is the effect on you of the
-sea, in a steamer and in a boat?”
-
-“Yes,” she said, “I have noticed it. The steamer goes its own determined
-way, breaking its sympathy with winds and waters, and you—you are so high
-up that you cannot mingle in the being of the spirits, the breathings of
-their lips, the wavings of their hands, the tossings of their hair.”
-
-“_Where_,” he said smiling,
-
- “_where the wild white horses play,_
- _champ and chafe and toss in the spray._”
-
-She smiled in turn. She was looking before her across the sunny rolling
-billows to where, against some high brown jagged rocks, the foam-mantle
-of the breakers rose ever silently and fell. She was breathing in gently
-and serenely the delight of the sea, the bright breeze, the movement of
-the yacht, the divine blue free expansion of the clouds and skies. There
-was a silence.
-
-“You are not fond of steamers, then?” he asked with a side-look.
-
-“No,” she said, “except in rough weather, and then I too feel the elation
-of my kind,—the frail race of men which can yet dominate the winds and
-waters and make their paths along the neck of the untameable sea.—You do
-not know,” she added, leaving her extraneous delight for a moment and
-looking at him with a touch of self-amusement, “you do not know how I
-swell with pride when I watch a great man-of-war sailing on and on with
-such serene confidence, dominating the expanse of water like a thing
-of self-evident strength and beauty. I remember once making sand-forts
-with some children in England in a little rock-girt cove, and suddenly
-I looked up and there, almost filling our narrow horizon, was a great
-white troop-ship passing close to the shore. It struck me quite dumb
-for a moment; and then I began to applaud and shout like a Bacchant,
-the children following suit.” She turned her face away again, laughing,
-looking here and there, delighting again in what she felt and saw.
-
-“You are a true daughter of kindly men,” he said, laughing too, all
-suspicion of mockery passed away from look and tone. There was another
-silence. Gildea was beginning to perceive in himself a feeling he had
-never felt before, the feeling that he was in the presence and even in
-the influence of a girl-woman, (such was the idea presented to him),
-of a spiritual force as consummate as, but wholly differing from, his
-own. In a few moments he had recognized this, and by a wonderful stroke
-of intuition divined the meaning of it. It partook of the nature of a
-revelation. He seemed to see all his past life in a new light. He felt
-that she—she, this woman, this girl, this child here—had, by some unknown
-wonderful means, won the true talisman of life, that talisman whose
-omnipotence is perpetuity. It was, then, possible, after all, to combine
-perfect knowledge of life with the radiant joy and peace of perfect trust
-in it!—It partook of the nature of a revelation and, to second thoughts,
-of a delusion. His lip curled: he almost despised himself for the swift
-speed with which a suddenly begotten hope had leaped to a birth whose
-form and pressure was but the mask of credulity. “There has been no man,”
-he said to himself, “save Goethe, who knew what life was and yet could
-have a weariless joy in it. Carlyle well said that this man was to have
-no imitators or successors.—_Nostra vita a che val? solo a spregiarla._”
-And yet the idea of a new life, a life wherein might be found something
-more than sweet resignation, hedonistic merely or even optimistic,
-but supplying thought, action, and speech with a motive-power whose
-strength should be in its truth—the idea would not be shaken off by mere
-self-contempt at credulity in it.
-
-“To tell you the truth,” he said to her, “I could almost envy you your
-pure free joy in things.”
-
-She looked at him, surprise passing swiftly into serene observation.
-
-“What troubles you,” she said, “that you should not have it yourself?”
-
-He smiled slightly as he answered her.
-
-“Pleasure, however sweet, however clear, is not joy.—And yet,” he added
-quickly, “I would not change my pleasure for your joy.”
-
-“No?”
-
-“A child has joy, a man has pleasure: joy, then, is a step backward. It
-may excel in height, as we should say, but breadth is the finer quality.
-The mountains are noble, but the sea, encompassing all lands, is great.”
-
-“The sea also is deep, it has its valleys whose shadow is nadir to the
-zenith peaks and light. I will not grant you your simile. You must not
-mock at joy, for joy is the gift not only of childhood which precedes,
-but of maturity which follows, manhood. I would sooner be a Christian and
-have joy than a Heathen with only pleasure.”
-
-“Christianity,” said Gildea, “is spiritual opium. You do not eat it?”
-
-“No,” she said, “I see no use in drugs. But, as I said, I would sooner
-take drugs that give me joy than live on meats and wines that only gave
-me pleasure. Joy is mine, but pleasure is every one’s.”
-
-“You had, then, once the temptation of drugs?”
-
-“Yes,” she assented a little dreamily, “I had the temptation.—And yet,”
-she added with a sudden return of interest, “it is wonderful how little
-of _these_ drugs you can take, and live with energy and joy. Are the
-lips of Monica pallid or her eyes stony? Theresa has a clear mind: she
-can set her house in order. The songs and glories of the Creatures, do
-they not pass purely and freely, as you say, through the lips of Saint
-Francis?”
-
-“True, but for us this aspect of the thing is past. The central trust in
-the Christ-God is a skeletoned shadow, that the grate holds up a moment
-beyond its time of falling in. You see it lying, a pile of shapeless ash,
-and wonder it ever stood. The Mother of Love and Grief appears no more
-save in the brilliant burning of distorted vision. It is a case of opium
-or nothing!”
-
-“You are right,” she said, “and so I saw it.”
-
-“What, then, remains,” he asked, “but resignation? There is no joy in
-patience. Nay, worse, there is little pleasure. I too take drugs, and
-I have more than once thought that, if Fate had not kindly given me
-the wherewithal to buy them, I should have ended the dreary business
-for ever. What is the good of our life except to despise it? says
-Leopardi. It is just bearable with drugs, but, without, I cannot think
-it worth the bearing. Pure indifference keeps more of its high souls
-alive now than the world wots of. They are careless of life, but they
-are equally careless of death. They live merely waiting for chance to
-kill them, or for life to become unendurable enough for them to care
-to kill themselves. Such men are not miserable. Sometimes, it is true,
-they suffer disgust; but they know nothing of despair, for despair means
-illusion, and they have the truth. Sometimes, again they have pleasure.
-But how, tell me, is it possible to have at once both truth and joy?”
-
-“All this,” she said, “I too felt, and not so long ago—although I could
-not have put it to myself so clearly. You, I think, have learned your
-belief more by living than by reading: with me it was different. Before
-I began properly to live,—to be free, that is, to examine and try
-everything for myself,—I had arrived at my belief, and all my living has
-only confirmed me in it.”
-
-“_What_ is your belief?” he asked.
-
-She smiled and shook her head.
-
-“I will not try to tell it you explicitly,” she said, “for fear of
-harming it. Analysis is a mistake, and now I have so long known this,
-that I have little temptation to give way to it. You, it seems, have
-tried to be a Heathen. You gave yourself up to the natural joy of your
-youth and fortune, your health and strength and riches and powers, until
-the joy turned to pleasure and the pleasure to almost pain. Then you went
-for interest to the spiritual life of those about you, and again joy
-turned to pleasure and pleasure to almost pain. But _you_—you were not
-one that knew how to be resigned! You could not, as your great Master
-could, add to the ‘Vanity of Vanities, all is vanity’ the ‘Fear God and
-keep his commandments; for this is the whole duty of man.’ Far otherwise
-with _you_, as you have told me, was ‘the conclusion of the whole
-matter.’”
-
-“And you?” he said with the tone of comrade to comrade, “and you?”
-
-“I had a revelation. It took place in a London fog in front of a fire in
-a little backroom where I had my books. And, as it were, scales fell from
-my eyes, and I saw men as trees walking.” Gildea, the true arch-mocker,
-for the first time in his life had to undergo the sensation of doubt
-whether or no he was being mocked at.
-
-“Well?” he said.
-
-“Well, I was in a rather miserable state at the time. Someone to whom I
-was attached had had to leave me. I was sick of trying to satisfy myself
-with the life of pleasure as pleasure, and I had the temptation to take
-spiritual drugs, for I felt an appalling loneliness of soul. I thought
-that no one had ever looked at things as I felt I should like to look
-at them, and I was at times almost afraid that I was suffering under a
-delusion that might end in something very like madness. Then I had my
-revelation. I found out that there had been a whole race whose central
-belief was the one I was stretching out my arms to.”
-
-“Greece?” said Gildea, “Greece?”
-
-“Yes, Greece! Here I found were men who realized the secret of life, who
-knew what Truth was. They looked at life as it was, and they saw calmly
-and clearly that the butterfly’s life is enough for the butterfly, and
-the man’s for the man. They took no spiritual opium as the Christians do:
-they have no yearning love. They have not resignation as the Heathens
-have, resignation that sullenly accepts the evil, or that brightly
-determines to make the best of the good in things. They have better;
-they have truth and light and joy! Take, then, your Christian Faith and
-Love: your Heathen Trust and Hope: _I_ am a Pagan, and my care is Truth
-and Light!—And I found,” she went on, “I found, after a time, that there
-had been others in these later days that had looked, or striven to look
-at things, as I did. Such was Goethe, such was Keats. With Goethe the
-freedom of his Paganism was bought at a great price, but Keats was born
-free. When Goethe recognised what it was to have been a Christian, to be
-a Heathen, and to wish to be a Pagan, he renounced his past and present
-with all the strength of his soul, and fixed his eyes resolutely on his
-future. But he never won it—that is to say, as he had won the others. He
-was never a Pagan as he was a Heathen or a Christian. The Second Part
-of Faust is not like the First. It is not with impunity that we have
-passed through the Christianity of Catholicism and the Heathenism of the
-Renascence. A Dante or a Shakspere could not be shaken off by a Goethe,
-and a Sophokles wholly put on. Is a great pagan soul possible yet? How
-shall we say no with what Keats might have become before us?—Sometimes I
-think,” she said a little dreamily, “that I am the only one of my time
-who understood these great men; Goethe, the god of the Transition, Keats,
-the Herakles of Modernity, strangled in his cradle by the serpents of
-Hera! And, for either of them, I would readily have given my life.” ...
-
-Mrs. Medwin turned round towards them, Alcock turning too, as if they had
-reached a point in their conversation in which a break was expedient.
-Then Mrs. Medwin and Alcock rose and came up to them.
-
-“Is not the water exquisitely clear?” she said to Gildea, “It reminds me
-of Capreae. It only wants the beautiful coral rocks.”
-
-Gildea smilingly assented. He remembered a remark of Mrs. Medwin’s to the
-effect that, as you approached Melbourne from the north, it was like the
-bay of Naples with Vesuvius.
-
-“Miss Medwin,” he said, with the smile changing on his face and becoming
-sweet and radiant, “Miss Medwin has just been explaining to me a passage
-from Goethe which I never understood.”
-
-“Indeed?” said Mrs. Medwin, “I did not know you read German, Alice. Was
-it a passage from Faust? I think Faust is very difficult, and I do not
-understand the Second Part in the least.”
-
-“No,” answered Gildea, “It was not from Faust.—
-
- Vom Halben zu entwöhnen;
- im Ganzen, Guten, Schönen
- resolut zu leben.”
-
-“That is not very difficult, Sir Horace,” said Mrs. Medwin.
-
-Gildea, in answer to the dumb look on Alcock’s face, who did not happen
-to know German, translated it with courtesy:
-
-“‘I resolved to wean myself,’” he said, “‘from halves, and to live for
-the Whole, the Good, the Beautiful.’”
-
-“And what does it _mean_?” asked Alcock.
-
-“Ah,” answered Gildea smiling, “Miss Medwin must tell you that!”
-
- _April, 1885._
-
-
-THE END.
-
-
-
-
-FOOTNOTES
-
-
-[1] The remark is, of course, general. Most of Victoria, as we all know,
-is unfortunately definitely sold.
-
-[2] _Melbourne Review_, October, 1883. (No. 32.)
-
-[3] _Victorian Review_, May, 1884. (No. 55).
-
-[4] _Melbourne Review_, April, 1884. (No. 34).
-
-[5] I may parenthetically remark that the idea that Gordon is buried
-in St. Kilda Cemetery is incorrect, as my doing so may perhaps save
-others from the trouble of a fruitless pilgrimage there, not to say an
-examination of all the Cemetery books. He is buried in Brighton Cemetery.
-The tombstone is a block of blue-stone, topped with a shattered column
-crowned with a laurel-wreath. The four sides of the block have marble
-tablets let into them, on which are severally written: “The Poet Gordon.
-Died June 24, 1870, aged 37 years;” “Sea-Spray and Smoke-Drift;” “Bush
-Ballads and Galloping Rhymes;” “Ashtaroth.” The Cemetery is wooded
-and wild, the vegetation, including the grave-flowers, stragglingly
-luxuriant. Not altogether an unfitting “sleeping place” for him.
-
-[6] His little article on it in the _Contemporary Review_ is a mere
-circular.
-
-[7] _Victorian Review_, February, 1885, in a series of articles on
-contemporary English poets.
-
-[8] It is gratifying to notice at the Technological Museum, where one
-would least expect it, the number of sunday visitors more than halves
-that of all the other days put together.
-
-[9] A volume of his, in which is included his “Miscellaneous Poems” and
-“Convict Once,” has lately appeared—at last another book, out of so much
-of this hopelessly worthless colonial literature, which counts!
-
-[10] Three of Miss Ironsides’ pictures were, when I was in Sydney, housed
-in a sort of shed behind the temporary Picture Gallery. On one side of
-it the windows were open to the dust and rain! One of the pictures, the
-“Ars Longa, Vita Brevis,” was much spoiled; another, the “Adoration of
-the Magi,” a little. I did what I could to alter this state of affairs,
-but I could do nothing. The Trustees do not know to whom the pictures
-belong, and there is not room enough in the Gallery, as it is, for even
-the purchased pictures. Perhaps when these three pictures are permanently
-spoiled, something will be done. For me, I must confine myself to
-pointing out the wonderful depth of quiet feeling which is the chief
-characteristic of the work of this remarkable girl. This is to be noticed
-most in the “Marriage” picture and the “Ars Longa.” At the same time
-there is something of passionate—of passion suppressed, but none the less
-existent and strong, which adds a peculiar flavour and attraction to her
-work. The mother’s face in the “Adoration” and the girl playing on the
-harp in the “Marriage” are really beautiful in thought and execution.
-For pure execution, however, I would direct attention to the drapery of
-the angel in the former picture, or, in a particular shape, the thorns
-in the “Ars Longa.” I suppose that there is such a plethora of work like
-this of Miss Ironsides’ in both Sydney and Melbourne that only one or two
-mentally impoverished people like myself can be expected to trouble about
-it, and it is in the hope of attracting the attention of one or two such
-that I write this. There are, however, three pictures by Mr. Folingsby in
-the Melbourne Gallery which would, I am sure, look quite nice in one of
-our new æsthetically furnished hotels, Mr. Hosie’s (say) or the Grand,
-and then perhaps someone might put Miss Ironsides’ in their places. This
-would be a gain for both the Hotels and the Gallery.
-
-[11] Crescat et proficiat tam singulorum quam omnium, tam unius hominis
-quam totius Ecclesiæ, Intelligentia Scientia Sapientia.
-
-[12] “In Memoriam,” cxiv.
-
-[13] In the Land Act that came into force in March, 1885.
-
- MELBOURNE:
- WILLIAM INGLIS AND CO., PRINTERS,
- FLINDERS STREET EAST.
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUSTRALIAN ESSAYS ***
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-<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Australian Essays</div>
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-<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Francis W. L. Adams</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 04, 2021 [eBook #64692]</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Nick Wall and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</div>
-
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUSTRALIAN ESSAYS ***</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_i"></a>[i]</span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage"><i>TWO SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE</i></p>
-
-<div class="front-matter red-border">
-
-<p class="titlepage larger red"><span class="smcap u">A<span class="black">ustralian</span><br />
-E<span class="black">ssays.</span></span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br />
-FRANCIS W. L. ADAMS.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>AUTHOR OF<br />
-“LEICESTER, AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.”</i></span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage gothic red">Contents:</p>
-
-<ul>
-<li>PREFACE.</li>
-<li>MELBOURNE AND HER CIVILIZATION.</li>
-<li>THE POETRY OF ADAM LINDSAY GORDON.</li>
-<li>THE SALVATION ARMY.</li>
-<li>SYDNEY AND HER CIVILIZATION.</li>
-<li>CULTURE.</li>
-<li>“DAWNWARDS:” A DIALOGUE.</li>
-</ul>
-
-<p class="titlepage"><span class="smcap">Printed and Published by<br />
-William Inglis &amp; Co., 37, 38, &amp; 39 Flinders Street East,<br />
-Melbourne.</span></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="smcap">London: Griffith, Farran &amp; Co.</span></p>
-
-<p class="center">1886.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ii"></a>[ii]</span></p>
-
-<p class="center larger">AUSTRALIAN ESSAYS.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="front-matter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iii"></a>[iii]</span></p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</i></p>
-
-<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">Leicester, an Autobiography.</span> (<span class="smcap">Redway</span>, Publisher, York Street,
-Covent Garden, London; 6<i>s</i>.)</p>
-
-<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">Poems.</span> (<span class="smcap">Elliot Stock</span>, Publisher, Paternoster Row, London; 5<i>s.</i>)</p>
-
-<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">The Bruces</span>, A Novel. (<i>Shortly</i>).</p>
-
-<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">Modern English Poets.</span> (<i>Shortly</i>).</p>
-
-<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">Voyage on the Adelaide.</span> (<i>Shortly</i>).</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="front-matter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iv"></a>[iv]</span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage larger">AUSTRALIAN ESSAYS.</p>
-
-<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br />
-FRANCIS W. L. ADAMS.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>AUTHOR OF<br />
-“LEICESTER, AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.”</i></span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage">Melbourne:<br />
-<span class="smcap">William Inglis &amp; Co., Flinders Street East.</span><br />
-<span class="smcap">London Publishers: Griffith, Farran &amp; Co.</span></p>
-
-<p class="center">MDCCCLXXXVI.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_v"></a>[v]</span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage smaller">MELBOURNE:<br />
-WILLIAM INGLIS AND CO., PRINTERS,<br />
-FLINDERS STREET EAST.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vi"></a>[vi]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak"><i><span class="smaller">TO</span><br />
-MATTHEW ARNOLD<br />
-<span class="smaller">IN ENGLAND.</span></i></h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">‘<i>Master, with this I send you, as a boy</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>that watches from below some cross-bow bird</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>swoop on his quarry carried up aloft,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>and cries a cry of victory to his flight</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>with sheer joy of achievement—So to you</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>I send my voice across the sundering sea,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>weak, lost within the winds and surfy waves,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>but with all glad acknowledgment fulfilled</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>and honour to you and to sovran Truth!</i>’</div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse right"><i>January, 1886.</i></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vii"></a>[vii]</span></p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_viii"></a>[viii]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<table summary="Contents">
- <tr>
- <td></td>
- <td class="tdpg"><span class="smcap">Page.</span></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">Preface</span></td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#PREFACE">ix.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">Melbourne and Her Civilization</span></td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#MELBOURNE_AND_HER_CIVILIZATION">1</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">The Poetry of Adam Lindsay Gordon</span></td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#THE_POETRY_OF_ADAM_LINDSAY_GORDON">11</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">The Salvation Army</span></td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#THE_SALVATION_ARMY">27</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">Sydney and Her Civilization</span></td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#SYDNEY_AND_HER_CIVILIZATION">50</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">Culture</span></td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CULTURE">73</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">“Dawnwards,” a Dialogue</span></td>
- <td class="tdpg"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="sub"><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#DAWNWARDS_INTRO">90</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="sub">I.</td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#DAWNWARDS_I">97</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="sub">II.</td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#DAWNWARDS_II">105</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="sub">III.</td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#DAWNWARDS_III">114</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="sub">IV.</td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#DAWNWARDS_IV">122</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="sub">V.</td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#DAWNWARDS_V">138</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="sub">VI.</td>
- <td class="tdpg"><a href="#DAWNWARDS_VI">146</a></td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ix"></a>[ix]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>It would be absurd to suppose that it will not seem clear, to
-whatever readers this little book may find here, that one of
-the principal characters of the Dialogue is a man for whom
-we all, I think, feel more interest, admiration, and respect than
-any other among us. That this is so in reality, I must beg to
-deny, and I hope that, when I state that I neither have myself,
-nor know anyone who has, the honour of his acquaintance—nay,
-that I have never even <i>seen</i> him—I hope that I shall
-stand acquitted of all charges of personality. As for the other
-characters, there will too, I daresay, be found people ready to
-declare who are the originals, and to explain everything which
-is inconsistent with their theory by ascribing it to designed
-mystification on the part of the Author. For this, it seems, is
-an occupation like another. The Author believes that so
-much of a man’s life as is public belongs to the public, and is
-at the fair use of the public’s literary analysts, <i>videlicet</i> the
-critics, and that it is by no means an unfair use, to take such a
-life and freely present it in that individual form which it
-actually has to us in our moments of imagination and reflection.
-It seems, then, to him foolish, in considering, (to take it in the
-form of a well-known example), a book like D’Israeli’s “Lothair”
-or “Endymion,” to be trying to identify the characters with
-actual men. D’Israeli simply uses as much of actual men and
-actual events as he requires for his criticism of the time he is
-portraying, and is careless of the rest. I see here no attempt
-at mystification. I simply see an artist picking out the
-choicest materials he has to hand.</p>
-
-<p>As regards both the Dialogue and the Essays, I would like
-to point out that they are professedly didactic, and, as such,
-are of course cast into the form which I believe most calculated
-to achieve their object. I am sure that I have neither the
-intention nor the wish to impugn the competency of the
-australian Press to deal with things australian. I am myself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_x"></a>[x]</span>
-a member, a very humble member of it, and am quite ready to
-do myself the sincere pleasure of praising it. At the same
-time I cannot blind myself to the fact that its criticism is not
-(let us say) ideal. The “business of criticism,” says the first
-of living critics, “is simply <i>to know the best that is known and
-thought in the world, and by in its turn making this known, to
-create a current of true and fresh ideas</i>.” Well now, I cannot,
-I say, look upon this australian Press, of which I am so humble
-a member, as the creator of such a current; and, (I will make
-a clean breast of it at once!), bright and charming as I have
-always found him in the “Echoes of the Week” and places of
-like resort, I have viewed the triumphal approach of Mr. Sala
-to us, and his even more triumphal progress among us, with
-(as someone will presently be saying of me)—“with a jaundiced
-eye.” And why? The truth, the real truth, is, (May I be
-forgiven for saying so?), that I do not believe that even Mr. Sala
-can help us australian pressmen, (since I dare to place myself
-in a company which includes such stupendous personages as
-“The Vagabond” and the Editor of the Melbourne <i>Herald</i>),
-to create that “current of true and fresh ideas” to which we
-have alluded. Truth, alas, is the private property of no man—not
-even of Mr. George Augustus Sala. And I confess to
-finding myself at the point of wishing that, even for mere
-variety’s sake, we should hear more than we do of the ideas of
-such personages as Goethe, Emerson, Renan, Arnold, and so
-on: writers, of course, familiar to us all, and whom I, at any rate,
-must still continue to consider as not wholly exhausted. They
-may not have the depth of thought, the accuracy of detail,
-the exquisite tact of expression which distinguish the genial
-<i>littérateur</i>, and make his work, as one of my fellow pressmen
-said the other day, “epoch-making,” but I really do still
-continue—I <i>must</i> still continue—to think that, despite all
-these disadvantages, they are still capable of helping us a little
-to that critical haven where our souls would be—to the source
-of “a current of true and fresh ideas.”</p>
-
-<p class="right"><i>September, 1885.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p>
-
-<h1>AUSTRALIAN ESSAYS.</h1>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="MELBOURNE_AND_HER_CIVILIZATION">MELBOURNE, AND HER CIVILIZATION,
-AS THEY STRIKE AN ENGLISHMAN.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>It is difficult to speak of Melbourne fitly. The judgment of
-neither native nor foreigner can escape the influence of the
-phenomenal aspect of the city. Not fifty years ago its first
-child, Batman’s, was born; not forty, it was a city; a little
-over thirty, it was the metropolis of a colony; and now (as the
-inscription on Batman’s grave tells us) “<i>Circumspice!</i>” To
-natives their Melbourne is, and is only, “the magnificent city,
-classed by Sir George Bowen as the ninth in the world,”
-“one of the wonders of the world.” They cannot criticise,
-they can only praise it. To a foreigner, however, who,
-with all respect and admiration for the excellencies of the
-Melbourne of to-day as compared with the Melbourne of
-half-a-century ago, has travelled and seen and read, and
-cares very little for glorifying the <i>amour-propre</i> of this class
-or of that, and very much for really arriving at some more
-or less accurate idea of the significance of this city and
-its civilization; to such a man, I say, the native melodies in
-the style of “Rule Britannia” which he hears everywhere and
-at all times are distasteful. Nay, he may possibly have at last
-to guard himself against the opposite extreme, and hold off
-depreciation with the one hand as he does laudation with the
-other!</p>
-
-<p>The first thing, I think, that strikes a man who knows the
-three great modern cities of the world—London, Paris, New
-York—and is walking observingly about Melbourne is, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span>
-Melbourne is made up of curious elements. There is something
-of London in her, something of Paris, something of New
-York, and something of her own. Here is an attraction to
-start with. Melbourne has, what might be called, the <i>metropolitan
-tone</i>. The look on the faces of her inhabitants is the
-<i>metropolitan look</i>. These people live quickly: such as life presents
-itself to them, they know it: as far as they can see, they
-have no prejudices. “I was born in Melbourne,” said the wife
-of a small bootmaker to me once, “I was born in Melbourne,
-and I went to Tasmania for a bit, but I soon came back again.
-<i>I like to be in a place where they go ahead.</i>” The wife of a
-small bootmaker, you see, has the <i>metropolitan tone</i>, the <i>metropolitan
-look</i> about her; she sees that there is a greater pleasure
-in life than sitting under your vine and your fig-tree; she likes
-to be in a place where they go ahead. And she is a type of
-her city. Melbourne likes to “go ahead.” Look at her public
-buildings, her New Law Courts not finished yet, her Town
-Hall, her Hospital, her Library, her Houses of Parliament, and
-above all her Banks! Nay, and she has become desirous of
-a fleet and has established a “Naval Torpedo Corps” with
-seven electricians. All this is well, very well. Melbourne, I
-say, lives quickly: such as life presents itself to her, she knows
-it: as far as she can see, she has no prejudices.</p>
-
-<p><i>As far as she can see.</i>—The limitation is important. The
-real question is, <i>how</i> far can she see? how far does her civilization
-answer the requirements of a really fine civilization? what
-scope in it is there (as Mr. Arnold would say) for the satisfaction
-of the claims of conduct, of intellect and knowledge, of
-beauty and manners? Now in order the better to answer this
-question, let us think for a moment what are the chief elements
-that have operated and are still operating in this Melbourne
-and her civilization.</p>
-
-<p>This is an English colony: it springs, as its poet Gordon (of
-whom there will presently be something to be remarked) says,
-in large capitals, it springs from “<i>the Anglo-Saxon race ...
-the Norman blood</i>.” Well, if there is one quality which distinguishes
-this race, this blood, it is its determined strength.
-Wherever we have gone, whatever we have done, we have gone
-and we have done with all our heart and soul. We have made
-small, if any, attempt to conciliate others. Either they have had
-to give way before, or adapt themselves to us. India, America,
-Australia, they all bear witness to our determined, our pitiless<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span>
-strength. What is the state of the weaker nations that opposed
-us there? In America and Australia they are perishing off the
-face of the earth; even in New Zealand, where the aborigines
-are a really fine and noble race, we are, it seems, swiftly destroying
-them. In India, whose climate is too extreme for us ever to
-make it a colony in the sense that America and Australia are
-colonies; in India, since we could neither make the aborigines
-give way, nor make them adapt themselves to us, we have simply
-let them alone. They do not understand us, nor we them.
-Of late, it is true, an interest in them, in their religion and
-literature, has been springing up, but what a strange aspect do
-we, the lords of India for some hundred and thirty years,
-present! “In my own experience among Englishmen,” says
-an Indian scholar writing to the <i>Times</i> in 1874, “I have found
-no general indifference to India, but I have found a Cimmerian
-darkness about the manners and habits of my countrymen, an
-almost poetical description of our customs, and a conception
-no less wild and startling than the vagaries of Mandeville and
-Marco Polo concerning our religion.” Do we want any further
-testimony than this to the determined, the pitiless strength of
-“the Anglo-Saxon race ... the Norman blood?”</p>
-
-<p>Well, and how does all this concern Australia in general and
-Melbourne in particular? It concerns them in this way, that
-the civilization of Australia, of Melbourne, is an Anglo-Saxon
-civilization, a civilization of the Norman blood, and that, with
-all the good attendant on such a civilization, there is also all
-the evil. All? Well, I will not say all, for that would be to
-contradict one of the first and chief statements I made about
-her, namely that “as far as she can see Melbourne has no
-prejudices,” a statement which I could not make of England.
-“<i>This our native or adopted land</i>,” says an intelligent Australian
-critic, the late Mr. Marcus Clarke, “<i>has no past, no
-story. No poet speaks to us.</i>” “<i>No</i>,” we might add, “<i>and
-(thus far happily for you) neither, as far as you can see, does
-any direct preacher of prejudice</i>.” And here, as I take it, we
-have put our finger upon what is at once the strength and the
-weakness of this civilization.</p>
-
-<p>Let us consider it for a moment. The Australians have no
-prejudice about an endowed Church, as we English have, and
-hence they have, what we have not, religious liberty. As far
-as I can make out, there is no reason why the wife of a clergyman
-of the Church of England should in this colony look<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span>
-down upon the wife of a dissenting minister as her social
-inferior, and this is, on the whole, I think, well, for it tends to
-break up the notion of caste that exists between the two sects;
-it tends, I mean, to their mutual benefit, to the interchange of
-the church’s sense of “the beauty of holiness” with the chapel’s
-sense of the passion of holiness. Here, then, you are better
-off than we. On the other hand, you have no prejudice, as we
-at last have, against Protection, and consequently you go on
-benefiting a class at the expense of the community in a
-manner that can only, I think, be defined as short-sighted and
-foolish. Here we are better off than you. Again, however,
-you have not the prejudice that we have against the intervention
-of the State. You have nationalized your railways,
-and are attempting, as much as possible, to nationalize your
-land.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> You are beginning to see that a land tax, at any given
-rate of annual value, would be (as Mr. Fawcett puts it) “a
-valuable national resource, which might be utilized in rendering
-unnecessary the imposition of many taxes which will otherwise
-have to be imposed.” Here you are better off than we, better
-off both in fortune and general speculation. Again, you have
-not yet arrived at Federalism, and what a waste of time and all
-time’s products is implied in the want of central unity! Now
-the first and third of these instances show the strength that is in
-this civilization, and the second shows a portion of the weakness,
-at present only a small portion, but, unless vigorous measures
-are resorted to and soon, this Protection will become the great
-evil that it is in America. There is just the same cry there as
-here: “Protect the native industries until they are strong enough
-to stand alone”—as if an industry that has once been protected
-will ever care to stand alone again until it is compelled to! as
-if a class benefited at the expense of the community will ever
-give up its benefit until the community takes it away again!</p>
-
-<p>On one of the first afternoons I spent in Melbourne, I
-remember strolling into a well-known book-mart, the book-mart
-“at the sign of the rainbow.” I was interested both in
-the books and the people who were looking at or buying them.
-Here I found, almost at the London prices (for we get our
-twopence or threepence in the shilling on books now in
-London), all, or almost all, of the average London books of the
-day. The popular scientific, theological, and even literary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span>
-books were to hand, somewhat cast into the shade, it is true,
-by a profusion of cheap English novels and journals, but still
-they were to hand. And who were the people that were
-buying them? The people of the dominant class, the middle-class.
-I began to enquire at what rate the popular, scientific,
-and even literary books were selling. Fairly, was the answer.
-“And how do Gordon’s poems sell?” “<i>Oh they sell well</i>,”
-was the answer, “<i>he’s the only poet we’ve turned out</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>This pleased me, it made me think that the “go-ahead”
-element in Victorian and Melbourne life had gone ahead in
-this direction also. If, in a similar book-mart in Falmouth
-(say), I had asked how the poems of Charles Kingsley were selling,
-it is a question whether much more than the name would
-have been recognized. And yet the middle-class here is as, and
-perhaps more, badly—more appallingly badly—off for a higher
-education than the English provincial middle class is. Whence
-comes it, then, that a poet like Gordon with the cheer and
-charge of our chivalry in him, with his sad “trust and only
-trust,” and his</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“weary longings and yearnings</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">for the mystical better things:”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">Whence comes it that he is a popular poet here? Let him
-answer us English for himself and Melbourne:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“You are slow, very slow, in discerning</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">that book-lore and wisdom are twain:”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">Yes, indeed, to Melbourne, such as life presents itself to her,
-she knows it, and, what is more, she knows that she knows it, and
-her self-knowledge gives her a contempt for the pedantry of the
-old world. Walk about in her streets, look at her private buildings,
-these banks of hers, for instance, and you will see this.
-They <i>mean</i> something, they <i>express</i> something: they do not (as
-Mr. Arnold said of our British Belgravian architecture) “only
-express the impotence of the artist to express anything.” They
-express a certain sense of movement, of progress, of conscious
-power. They say: “Some thirty years ago the first gold nuggets
-made their entry into William Street. Well, many more nuggets
-have followed, and wealth of other sorts has followed the
-nuggets, and we express that wealth—we express movement,
-progress, conscious power.—<i>Is that, now, what your English
-banks express?</i>” And we can only say that it is not, that our
-English banks express something quite different; something, if
-deeper, slower; if stronger, more clumsy.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span></p>
-
-<p>But the matter does not end here. When we took the
-instance of the books and the people “at the sign of the rainbow,”
-we took also the abode itself of the rainbow; when we
-took the best of the private buildings, we took also the others.
-Many of them are hideous enough, we know; this is what
-Americans, English, and Australians have in common, this
-inevitable brand of their civilization, of their determined, their
-pitiless strength. The same horrible “pot hat,” “frock coat,”
-and the rest, are to be found in London, in Calcutta, in New
-York, in Melbourne.</p>
-
-<p>Let us sum up. “The Anglo-Saxon race, the Norman blood:”
-a colony made of this: a city into whose hands wealth and its
-power is suddenly phenomenally cast: a general sense of
-movement, of progress, of conscious power. This, I say, is
-Melbourne—Melbourne with its fine public buildings and
-tendency towards banality, with its hideous houses and
-tendency towards anarchy. And Melbourne is, after all, the
-Melbournians. Alas, then, how will this city and its civilization
-stand the test of a really fine city and fine civilization?
-how far will they answer the requirements of such a civilization?
-what scope is there in them for the satisfaction of the claims of
-conduct, of intellect and knowledge, of beauty, and manners?</p>
-
-<p>Of the first I have only to say that, so far as I can see, its
-claims are satisfied, satisfied as well as in a large city, and in a
-city of the above-mentioned composition, they can be. But of
-the second, of the claims of intellect and knowledge, what
-enormous room for improvement there is! What a splendid
-field for culture lies in this middle-class that makes a popular
-poet of Adam Lindsay Gordon! It tempts one to prophesy
-that, given a higher education for this middle-class, and fifty—forty—thirty
-years to work it through a generation, and it will
-leave the English middle-class as far behind in intellect and
-knowledge as, at the present moment, it is left behind by the
-middle-class, or rather the one great educated upper-class, of
-France.</p>
-
-<p>There is still the other claim, that of beauty and manners.
-And it is here that your Australian, your Melbourne civilization
-is, I think, most wanting, is most weak; it is here that one
-feels the terrible need of “a past, a story, a poet to speak to
-you.” With the Library are a sculpture gallery and a picture
-gallery. What an arrangement in them both! In the sculpture
-gallery “are to be seen,” we are told, “admirably executed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span>
-casts of ancient and modern sculpture, from the best European
-sources, copies of the Elgin marbles from the British Museum,
-and other productions from the European Continent.” Yes,
-and Summers stands side by side with Michaelangelo! And
-poor busts of Moore and Goethe come between Antinous and
-the Louvre Apollo the Lizard slayer! But this, it may be said,
-is after all only an affair of an individual, the arranger. Not
-altogether so. If an audience thinks that a thing is done
-badly, they express their opinion, and the failure has to vanish.
-And how large a portion of the audience of Melbourne city,
-pray, is of opinion that quite half of its architecture is a failure,
-is hideous, is worthy only, as architecture, of abhorrence?
-how many are shocked by the atrocity of the Medical
-College building at the University? how many feel that
-Bourke Street, taken as a whole, is simply an insult to good
-taste?</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, all this,” it is said, “may be true, as abstract theory,
-but it is at present quite out of the sphere of practical application.
-You would talk of Federalism, and here is our good
-ex-Premier of New South Wales, Sir Henry Parkes, making it
-the subject of a farewell denunciation. ‘I venture to say
-now,’ says Sir Henry Parkes, ‘here amongst you what I said
-when I had an opportunity in London, what I ventured to say
-to Lord Derby himself, that this federation scheme must prove
-a failure.’ You talk of Free-trade and here is what an
-intelligent writer in the <i>Argus</i> says <i>apropos</i> of ‘the promised
-tariff negotiations with Tasmania.’ ‘In America,’ he says,
-‘there is no difficulty in inducing the States to see that, whatever
-may be their policy as regards the outside world, they
-should interchange as between each other in order that they
-may stand on as broad a base as possible, but we can only
-speculate on the existence of such a national spirit here.’—These
-facts, my good sir,” it is said, “as indicative of the
-amount of opposition that the nation feels to the ideas of Free-trade
-and Federalism, are not encouraging.”—They are not,
-let us admit it at once, but there are others which are; others,
-some of which we have been considering, and, above and
-beyond everything, there is one invaluable and in the end
-irresistible ally of these ideas: there is <i>the Tendency of the Age</i>—<i>the
-Time-Spirit</i>, as Goethe calls it. Things move more
-quickly now than they used to do: ideas, the modern ideas, are
-permeating the masses swiftly and thoroughly and universally.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span>
-We cannot tell, we can only speculate as to what another fifty—forty—thirty
-years will actually bring forth.</p>
-
-<p>Free-trade—Federalism—Higher Education, they all go
-together. The necessities of life are cheap here, wonderfully
-cheap; a man can get a dinner here for sixpence that he could
-not get in England for twice or thrice the amount. “There are
-not,” says the <i>Australasian Schoolmaster</i>, the organ of the State
-Schools, “there are not many under-fed children in the Australian
-[as there are in the English] schools.” But the luxuries
-of life (and let us remember that what we call the luxuries of
-life are, after all, necessities; they are the things which go to
-make up our civilization, the things which make us feel that
-there is a greater pleasure in life than sitting under your vine
-and your fig-tree, whatever Mr. George may have to say to the
-contrary)—the luxuries of life, I say, are dear here, very dear,
-owing to, what I must be permitted to call, an exorbitant tariff,
-and, consequently, the money that would be spent in fostering
-a higher ideal of life, in preparing the way for a national higher
-education, is spent on these luxuries, and the claims of intellect
-and knowledge, and of beauty and manners, have to suffer for
-it. Here is your Mr. Marcus Clarke, for instance, talking
-grimly, not to say bitterly, of “the capacity of this city to foster
-poetic instinct,” of his “astonishment that such work” as
-Gordon’s “was ever produced here.” He is astonished, you
-see, that the claims of intellect and knowledge, and of beauty
-and manners are enough satisfied in this city to produce a
-talent of this sort; he is astonished, because he does not see
-that there is an element in this city which, in its way, is making
-for at any rate the intellect and knowledge—an element which
-is a product, not of England but of Australia; a general sense
-of movement, of progress, of conscious power.</p>
-
-<p>Free-trade—Federalism—Higher Education, they all, I say,
-go together; but if one is more important than the other, then
-it is the last. Improvement, real improvement, must always be
-from within outwards, not from without inwards. All abiding
-good comes, as it has been well said, by evolution not by
-revolution. “Our chief, our gravest want in this country at
-present,” says Arnold, “our <i>unum necessarium</i>, is a middle-class,
-homogeneous, intelligent, civilized, brought up in good
-public schools, and on the first plane.” How true is this of
-Australia too, of Melbourne! There are State schools for the
-lower-class, but what is there for the great upper educated<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span>
-class of the nation? The voluntary schools, the “private
-adventure schools.” And what sort of education do <i>they</i>
-supply either in England or here? “The voluntary schools,”
-says a happy shallow man in some Publishers’ circular I lit on
-the other day, “the voluntary schools of the country” [of
-England] “have reached the highest degree of efficiency.”
-This, to those who have taken the trouble to study the question,
-not to say to have considerable absolute experience in the
-English voluntary schools—this is intelligence as surprising as
-it ought to be gratifying. To such men, the idea they had
-arrived at of the English voluntary schools was somewhat
-different; their idea being that these schools were, both
-socially and intellectually, the most inadequate that fall to the
-lot of any middle class among the civilized nations of Europe.
-“Comprehend,” says Arnold to us Englishmen, and he might
-as well be saying it to you Australians, “comprehend that
-middle-class education—the higher education, as we have put
-it, of the great upper educated class—is a great democratic
-reform, of the truest, surest, safest description.”</p>
-
-<p>“But there are many difficulties to be overcome—so many,
-that we doubt these abstract theories to be at present within
-the sphere of practical application. There is such a mass of
-opposition to the idea of Federalism. And, as for the idea of
-Free-trade, we can only speculate on the existence of a national
-spirit here. The thinking public is quite content with its State
-schools for the lower class, and cares little or nothing about
-State schools and a higher education for the upper class.
-They are much more interested in the religious questions of
-the day—the Catholic attitude, the conflict between Mr. Strong
-and his Presbytery on the subject of Religious Liberalism or
-Latitudinarianism, as you may please to call it, etcetera,
-etcetera, etcetera.”—All this is so, let us admit it at once,
-but it does not discourage us. We know, or think we know
-(which is, after all, almost the same thing), that these three
-questions—Free-trade, Federalism, Higher Education—are the
-three great, the three vital questions for Australia, for Melbourne.
-We know that, sooner or later, they will have to be
-properly considered and decided upon, and that, if Melbourne
-is to keep the place which she now holds as the leading city,
-intellectually and commercially, of Australia, they will have to
-be decided upon in that way which conforms with “the
-intelligible law of things,” with the <i>Tendency of the Age</i>, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span>
-the <i>Time-Spirit</i>. For this is the one invaluable and, in the
-end, irresistible ally of Progress—of Progress onward and
-upward.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><i>December, 1884.</i></p>
-
-<p class="smaller"><span class="smcap">Note.</span>—No one, speaking of Free-trade and Federalism in Australia,
-can omit a tribute of thanks to the <i>Argus</i> and the <i>Federal Australian</i> for
-what they have respectively done for the two causes. The cause of
-Higher Education, however, still waits for a champion in the Press.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="400" height="250" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_POETRY_OF_ADAM_LINDSAY_GORDON">THE POETRY OF ADAM LINDSAY GORDON.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>“In the whole range of English literature,” says an Australian
-critic reviewing the complete edition of Gordon’s poems, “in
-the whole range of English literature there have been few poets
-possessed of a finer lyrical faculty than Adam Lindsay Gordon....
-‘Ashtaroth,’” continues our critic now warm at his
-work, “‘Ashtaroth’ is worthy to rank with any of Tennyson’s
-songs, and is far more musical than the best of Browning’s.”
-Then there is “the beauty of his ballad poetry, such as
-‘Fauconshawe’ and ‘Rippling Water,’ which are perfect of their
-style;” and so on in the same strain, more or less, until the
-reader is surprised that our critic ends up with no further claim
-for his poet than that he “deserves to be ranked with the
-genuine poets of his generation.” One does not propose to
-criticise, verbally, criticism of this sort: it would be unkind to
-do so, and, above all, it would be useless. This is a native
-melody in the style of “Rule Britannia:” “Australia, and
-especially Victoria, is great and therefore her poet must be great
-also. Let us say that Melbourne is the equal of any English
-city save London, and Gordon the equal of any English poet
-save Shakspere and Milton!”</p>
-
-<p>Now let us hear what another Australian critic, one who
-cares more about finding out the real deep true significance of
-Gordon and his poetry than of glorifying the <i>amour-propre</i> of
-this class or of that: let us hear what Mr. Marcus Clarke has
-to say. “Written as they were” (as Gordon’s poems were)
-“at odd times in leisure moments of a stirring and adventurous
-life, it is not to be wondered at if they are unequal and
-unfinished. The astonishment of those who knew the man,
-and can gauge the capacity of this city to foster poetic instinct,
-is, that such work was ever produced here at all.”—What a
-different tone is this from that of our first and enthusiastic
-critic! “<i>Unequal and unfinished</i>”—“<i>astonishment that such
-work was ever produced here at all!</i>” But this is not all that Mr.
-Clarke has to say about Gordon’s poetry: he has also to notice<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span>
-what influence was at work in it, and (most important of all!)
-what is its real deep true significance. He talks of Gordon
-“owning nothing but a love for horsemanship and a head full
-of Browning and Shelley,” and follows this up by saying that
-“the influence of Browning and of Swinburne” (who, as we all
-know, has been, creatively and demonstratively, the chief
-prophet in his generation of the poet who, he likes to think, is
-‘beloved above all other poets, being beyond all other poets—in
-one word, and the only proper word,—divine’)—“the
-influence of Browning and of Swinburne upon the writer’s taste
-is plain. There is plainly visible also, however, a keen sense
-of natural beauty and a manly admiration for healthy living.”
-Well, and the conclusion of the whole matter? “The student
-of these unpretending volumes will be repaid for his labour.
-<i>He will find in them something very like the beginnings of a
-national school of Australian poetry.</i>”</p>
-
-<p>Let us hasten to offer up our small tribute of praise and
-thanks to Mr. Clarke for his critical sagacity here, and let us
-venture to hope that the “Poems of Adam Lindsay Gordon”
-may go down to posterity accompanied always by this small
-“Preface” of Mr. Clarke, who both “knew the man” and was
-yet the first to appreciate this aspect of his work.</p>
-
-<p>What, however, Mr. Clarke has to say about the facts of
-Gordon’s life is, at best, inaccurate. It is Mr. Sutherland to
-whom our gratitude is due here, gratitude for having discovered
-for us all the details of the poet’s life which it is necessary for
-us to know.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>
-
-<p>What, then, remains for any other critic to do? There
-remains to him, as it seems to me, the task of doing what Mr.
-Clarke tells us he did not propose to do, “of criticising these
-volumes,” and also of trying, as befits one who comes later,
-and to whom, therefore, the events of the past have fallen into
-that symmetry and proper proportion that the events of the
-present can scarcely ever fall into: of trying, I say, to bring
-out more clearly (one aspect of which he has done little more
-than indicate), the real, deep, true significance of the poet’s
-work; in a word, of trying to understand, instead of being
-“astonished” at it.</p>
-
-<p>The first thing to notice about Gordon’s poetry is, that it is
-almost all in regular and rymed rhythms. There is not a line<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span>
-of blank verse in it. Now, a “fine faculty” for regular and
-rymed rhythms is by no means a synonym for a “fine lyrical
-faculty.” Shelley, our greatest master in poetry of pure
-melody, has a “fine faculty” for regular and rymed rhythms,
-but has also a fine faculty for irregular rhythms: lines in
-which the regular rhythm is broken, in order that a more
-subtle melody may be expressed, are frequent in him. In Mr.
-Swinburne such lines are rare—he has a fine faculty for regular
-and rymed rhythms, but his faculty for irregular rhythms is (let
-us say) less fine. Gordon, who is the disciple of this first side
-of Mr. Swinburne’s technical talent, who, in his turn, is a
-disciple of the first side of Shelley’s—Gordon, I say, is in this
-respect to Mr. Swinburne what Mr. Swinburne is to Shelley.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Hammersley, one of the few survivors of that peculiar
-phase of colonial and Victorian feeling which produced the
-poetry of Gordon, and who “may say he knew him intimately”
-—tells us<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> how he “was often amused to hear him quote from
-the poets, and his recitations used to make me laugh outright.
-One day I said, ‘Hang it, Gordon, you can write good poetry,
-but you can’t read.’” What was the matter with his “reading,”
-then? He used to “read” in “a sing-song fashion.” Mr.
-Woods, too, tells us<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> that “Gordon had an odd way of
-reciting poetry, and his delivery was monotonous; but,” he
-adds, “his way of emphasising the beautiful portions of what
-he recited was charming from its earnestness.” Gordon’s
-criticism on his own verses was: “They don’t <i>ring</i> so badly
-after all, old fellow, do they?” He had no faculty for
-irregular rhythms. He cannot, then, be said to possess a
-“fine lyrical faculty;” he possessed a fine faculty for regular
-and rymed rhythms. (As for his rymes, as rymes, they are
-as a rule excellent, although there is often too little of the
-“poet or prophet,” as he says, in them, and too much of the
-“jingler of rymes,” the dealer in “verse-jingle chimes.”)
-Since, however, this faculty of his is a fine faculty, it must not
-be described as (in the usual and bad sense of the word)
-imitative. There are, I think, passages in him that Byron
-might have written (“To my Sister”), that Lord Tennyson
-might have written (“The Road to Avernus,” scene x.), that
-Mr. Swinburne might have written (“A Dedication”), and
-the latter are frequent. In no other poets, save Wordsworth
-and the earlier works of Mr. Arnold, do I find precisely this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span>
-same sort of (shall I say) parallelism of feeling and expression
-on certain subjects that I do in Mr. Swinburne and Gordon.
-But it is, I think, very open to question whether Gordon
-would have grown, as Mr. Arnold has, into a purely distinctive
-style of his own. Gordon is terribly lacking in variety: to live
-with a close study of him for several days is one of the most
-trying of critical tasks. “My rymes,” he asks—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“My rymes, are they stale? If my metre</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">is varied, one chime rings through all;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">one chime—though I sing more or sing less,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">I have but one string to my lute.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">I doubt, I say, whether under any circumstances Gordon
-would have produced, as Mr. Hammersley thought, “poems
-worthy to be ranked with some of the masterpieces of the
-English language.” He had not patience enough, he had not
-clear-sightedness enough! “A more dare-devil rider,” says
-Mr. Hammersley, “never crossed a horse.... As a steeplechase
-rider he was, of course, in the very first rank, and his
-name is indelibly associated with many of the most famous
-chases run in Victoria, although in my opinion, and I think in
-that of many good judges too, he was deficient in what is
-termed ‘good hands,’ and when it came to a finish was far
-behind a Mount or a Watson.” (And, considering his shortsightedness,
-which Mr. Woods designates as “painful,” this is
-not to be wondered at). It is the same with his poetry. All
-in his poetry that is good has been done at a rush; the rest is
-inferior, poor, and sometimes quite worthless. He has little, if
-any, sense of real artistic workmanship either in whole or in
-parts: “he is deficient in what is termed ‘good hands.’”
-Take, for instance, his dramatic lyric, “Ashtaroth.” It is
-worth reading. There are two beautiful songs in it, “On
-the Current,” and “Oh! days and years departed.” There
-are a few fine passages, a few fine dramatic touches, in it, and
-one splendid outburst of Orion’s (“I hate thee not, thy grievous
-plight”), but the poem, taken as a whole is, I say, worth
-reading. Many of the speeches are weak, and some are
-not poetry at all, but rymed prose, and bad at that. A sustained
-effort, such as a piece like this requires, was impossible
-to him. I say nothing of the ludicrous attempt at an adaptation
-of Faust, Mephistopheles and Margarete, which is the
-basis of the poem: I merely remark that, judged by its own
-poor standard of judgment, it is quite a failure. Perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span>
-some day we shall have a selection from the poet’s work, from
-which what is worthless will be eliminated, in order that all
-our attention may be fixed on what is good, and perhaps the
-selector will have the courage to dismiss all this poem, save
-some dozen or so of extracts, into the gulf of oblivion or
-an appendix. Encumbered as Gordon at present is with such
-an amount of worthless work, there is a danger that much of
-what is good may perish also.</p>
-
-<p>All his poetry that is good, I say, has been done at a rush.
-The dramatic touches in it are as frequent as they are fine.
-Take, for instance, this from the “Rhyme of Joyous Guard.”—Lancelot,
-old, worn-out, feeling that “there is nothing good
-for him under the sun but to perish as” (his bright past) “has
-perished,” is thinking of the close of his career and Arthur’s:
-of the discovery of his amour with Guinevere, his siege in
-Joyous Guard, his encounters with “brave Gawain,” whom he
-virtually slew, and then “the crime of Modred,” and “the
-king by the knave’s hand stricken”—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“And the once-loved knight, was he there to save</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">that knightly king who that knighthood gave?</div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>Ah, Christ! will he greet me as knight or knave</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent2"><i>in the day when the dust shall quicken?</i>”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>This is splendid! And, as I have said, it by no means
-stands alone. As a set-off against this excellence of his, is the
-defect of prolixity. Byron had it, but Byron was an unsurpassed
-improviser, not an artist. Like, too, his technical
-master of the “Poems and Ballads” when he gets hold of a
-regular or rymed rhythm that pleases him, Gordon will go on
-making it “ring,” listening as the “verse-jingle chimes,”
-till we are all quite weary of it. He is regardless of what Goethe
-calls “the æsthetic whole.” Indeed, it may justly be said that
-few, very few, of his poems are “æsthetic wholes” at all, but
-only passages.</p>
-
-<p>So much, then, for the outward form of his poetry. We
-have now to consider what is the significance to us of his life
-and work, of his personality, and of his “criticism of life.”</p>
-
-<p>In the first place, let us begin by stating that Gordon <i>has</i> a
-personality. Mr. Hammersley tells us how “at times Gordon
-was the strangest, most weird, mysterious man I ever saw, and
-I could not help feeling almost afraid of him, and yet there
-was a fascination about him that made me like to see him.”
-There was the fascination of his converse. “He was one of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span>
-the few men I have known in the colonies,” asseverates Mr.
-Hammersley, “that never made me tire of listening to him.”
-And there was the fascination of his individuality: “His wild
-haunting eye,” “a look something like what is termed the evil
-eye.” (This reminds one of what Mr. Clarke has to say about
-“the dominant note of Australian scenery: Weird Melancholy.”)
-Mr. Woods’ whole article bears witness to this
-personal fascination of Gordon’s. Well, it is the same in his
-poetry: I mean, that it is the same as Mr. Hammersley <i>means</i>.
-There is attraction in Gordon. We want to go to see anything
-that he has had to do with. We seek out his grave and
-brood over it.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> He is the Australian fellow to Baudelaire and
-James Thomson, the last martyrs, let us hope, to our terrible
-period of transition from the Old World into the New, from
-Mediævalism into Modernity. There is attraction in Gordon.
-We should like to have seen and known the original of
-Laurence Raby, of Maurice, of the man of the “Sea-spray
-and Smoke-Drift,” and “Bush Ballads and Galloping Rhymes.”
-He is an individuality, and a modern and a colonial individuality.
-He looks at life as it is, not as it is represented.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“In thy grandeur, oh sea! we acknowledge,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">in thy fairness, oh earth! we confess,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">hidden truths that are taught in no college,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">hidden songs that no parchment express.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">And, as for the pedants of the Old World, why! (as we know)</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“They are slow, very slow, in discerning</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">that book-lore and wisdom are twain.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Here, then, is the first charm in Gordon, and his work; they
-are modern, they represent the main-current of the age, not
-some side-water or back-water, that are perhaps nice enough
-in their way, but still—side-waters or back-waters, and <i>only</i>
-side-waters or back-waters.</p>
-
-<p>Gordon and his work are modern, but not wholly modern;
-he belongs, as I have said, to a period of transition. Like<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span>
-Mary Magdalene, he feels that “they have taken away my
-Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him.” He has
-lost the Old, and he has not won the New Faith. He is a
-poet of the twilight and the dawn. “On this earth so rough,”
-he says,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“on this earth so rough, we know quite enough,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2"><i>and, I sometimes fancy, a little too much</i>,”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">and so, we have to suffer! Burns, Byron, Leopardi, Heine,
-Musset, Baudelaire, Clough, Thomson—greater and lesser, this
-is true of them all! Their early life is embittered by it, their
-later life made desperate. “Years back,” says Gordon,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Years back I believed a little,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">and as I believed I spoke.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">Years back he could utter prayer, years back when he was a
-child. He cannot utter it now: “For prayer must die since
-hope is dead.” <i>Now</i> he can only wonder</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Is there nothing real but confusion?</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">is nothing certain but death?</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">is nothing fair, save illusion?</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">is nothing good that has breath?...”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">“I can hardly vouch,” he says, again,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent16">“I can hardly vouch</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">for the truth of what little I see....</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">On earth there’s little worth a sigh,</div>
- <div class="verse indent4">and nothing worth a tear.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">But ah,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“the restless throbbings and burnings</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">that hope unsatisfied brings,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">the weary longings and yearnings</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">for the mystical better things....</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">There are others toiling and straining</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">’neath burdens graver than mine—</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">They are weary, yet uncomplaining—</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">I know it, yet I repine.</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">I know it, how time will ravage,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">how time will level, and yet</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">I long with a longing savage,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">I regret with a fierce regret....”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">We are sorely tired, “we, with our bodies thus weakly, with
-hearts hard and dangerous.”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent8">“We have suffered and striven</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">till we have grown reckless of pain,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">though feeble of heart, and of brain.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">Who has expressed the malady of our time better? “Our
-burdens are heavy, our natures weak,” he says again. We
-cannot escape from them:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Round about one fiery centre</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">wayward thoughts like moths revolve;”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">We cannot write a description of a horse-race without letting
-them come in, without calling our description by a name expressive
-of them—“<i>Ex fumo dare lucem:</i>”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“<i>Till the good is brought forth from evil,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent2"><i>as day is brought forth from night.</i>—</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">Vain dreams! for our fathers cherished</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">high hopes in the days that were;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">and these men wondered and perished,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">nor better than these we fare;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">And our due at least is their due,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">they fought against odds and fell;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">“<i>En avant les enfants perdus!</i>”</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">We fight against odds as well.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent"><i>Enfant perdu</i>: so the dying Heine calls himself. <i>Enfants
-perdus</i>, that is what they were! The storms of our terrible
-period of transition raged about them: “they could not wait
-their passing,” as Arnold says—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“they could not wait their passing, they are dead.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">“I am slow,” says Gordon,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“I am slow in learning, and swift in</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">forgetting, and I have grown</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">so weary with long sand-sifting!</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">T’wards the mist, where the breakers moan</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">the rudderless bark is drifting,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">through the shoals of the quick-sands shifting—</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">In the end shall the night-rack lifting,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">discover the shores unknown?”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">The idea of killing himself seems to have been with him from
-almost the first. It was not “bitter” to him: “man in his
-blindness” taught so; but, to him that</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent24">“mystic hour</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">when the wings of the shadowy angel lower,”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">was not without its charm. “When I first heard the sad
-news,” Mr. Hammersley tells us, “I was not the least surprised.
-I really expected that what did happen would
-happen.” We all know Gordon’s poem, “De Te.” The last
-two verses of it are the best criticism that we have to offer “of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span>
-him,” “found dead in the heather, near his home, with a bullet
-from his own rifle in his brain:”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“No man may shirk the allotted work,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">the deed to do, the death to die;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">at least I think so—neither Turk,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">nor Jew, nor infidel am I—</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">And yet I wonder when I try</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">to solve one question, may or must,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">and shall I solve it by-and-bye,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">beyond the dark, beneath the dust?</div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>I trust so, and I only trust.</i></div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Aye what they will, such trifles kill.</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">Comrade, for one good deed of yours,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">your history shall not help to fill</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">the mouths of many brainless boors.</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">It may be death absolves or cures</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">the sin of life. ’Twere hazardous</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">to assert so. If the sin endures,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">say only, ‘<i>God, who has judged him thus,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>be merciful to him, and us:</i>’”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>And his work, his “criticism of life?” Is there nothing in
-it but this “<i>trust and only trust</i>?” There is more, much
-more! “There is plainly visible,” says Mr. Clarke, “a keen
-sense of natural beauty, and a manly admiration for healthy
-living ... a very clear perception of the loveliness of duty
-and of labour.” Let us see if this, too, is so, or if any
-qualification of this remark is needed; and, if so, what qualification.</p>
-
-<p>Gordon’s life and work were a failure. He himself would, I
-am sure, have been the first to admit it and have assigned the
-cause, and rightly, to bad luck in general and certain failings
-in himself in particular. Is it not bad luck to be born into an
-age that makes of its poets its martyrs? Gordon struggled
-and schemed. He was a livery-stable keeper, a landowner, a
-member of assembly, a keeper of racehorses, and a failure in
-all. It was only as jockey and stockrider that he was a success—that
-is to say, an object of admiration to others and of
-happiness to himself. “He sometimes,” says Mr. Woods,
-“compared the lot of a bushman with that of other states of
-mankind, saying that it was in many ways preferable to any
-one,” and for himself he was right. Let us not lament his
-failure in what he was not meant to be a success. Gordon,
-happy in life and love, might well have become at best a
-<i>dilettante</i>, at worst a materialized blockhead, he has so little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span>
-patience, so little clear-sightedness! Perhaps it is, after all,
-better as it is. The axe cuts down the sandal tree, and the
-tree sheds forth its perfume.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Our sweetest songs are those which tell of saddest thought.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">We love a poet more for what he has suffered than what he has
-done, and yet ultimately, if we will only see it, what he suffers
-and what he does are the same. As boys we love our Byron
-and our Shelley; as men our Goethe and our Shakspere.
-Gordon, I say, as poet and failure is better than prose-man and
-success. But see now what he has to say about this life in
-which he failed so.</p>
-
-<p>Firstly, there is all the doubt and bewilderment of a period
-of transition:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“We are children lost in the wood.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">“Lord,” prays this woman that loves Laurence Raby,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Lord, lead us out of this tangled wild,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">where the wise and the prudent have been beguiled,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">and only the babes have stood.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">Meantime,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Onward! onward! still we wander,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">nearer draws the goal;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">Half the riddle’s read, we ponder</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">vainly on the whole....</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">Onward! onward! toiling ever,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">weary steps and slow;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">doubting oft, despairing never,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">to the goal we go!”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">To what goal? Well,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“The chances are I go where most men go.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">Let us leave the rest with God—God whose “dealings with us”
-are unfathomable, God who is “fathomless.” Thus he achieves
-his resignation. But he never blinds himself to things; he
-never answers “the painful riddle of the earth” by “stopping
-up his mouth with a clod” (as Heine says). This world is a</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent4">“world of rapine and wrong,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">where the weak and the timid seem lawful prey</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">for the resolute and the strong.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">Sometimes there rises in him the</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“wail of discordant sadness for the wrongs he never can right,”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">for the brothers, and ah for the sisters, he cannot help. But
-sometimes, also, he bursts forth into “a song of gladness, a
-pæan of joyous might.” Both are in him: the wail for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span>
-lost Lord and the thanksgiving to God for his “<span class="smcap">glorious
-oxygen</span>.” (The capitals are his own.) With the first, we
-have done: let us look at the second and see what he has to
-show us of living and loving, of action and women, and then
-see what he has to show us of life as a whole, “the conclusion
-of the whole matter.”</p>
-
-<p>I have said elsewhere that there is in Gordon the cheer and
-charge of our chivalry. There is. He was well worthy of a
-place in the charge of our cavalry at Waterloo, or Balaclava.
-There is in him that “magnificence” which now, alas, as the
-Frenchman truly said, “is not war.” These men “glory in
-daring that dies or prevails.” And when, as at Balaclava, they
-die, their poet exclaims (in capitals)—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent12">“not in vain,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">as a type of our chivalry!”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">What exclamations of rapture such a sight draws from him!</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Oh! the moments of yonder maddening ride,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">long years of life outvie!...</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">God send me an ending as fair as his,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">who died in his stirrups there!...”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">Here is a race:—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“They came with the rush of the southern surf,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">on the bar of the storm-girt bay;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">and like muffled drums on the sounding turf</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">their hoof-strokes echo away.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">I know no poetry that describes the rush of horsemen quite as
-Gordon does. Take this description of the Balaclava charge
-from his “Lay of the Last Charger.”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Now we were close to them, every horse striding</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">madly;—St. Luce pass’t with never a groan;—</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">Sadly my master look’d round—he was riding—</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">on the boy’s right, with a line of his own.</div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Thrusting his hand in his breast or breast-pocket,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">while from his wrist the sword swung by a chain,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">swiftly he drew out some trinket or locket,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">kiss’t it (I think) and replaced it again.</div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Burst, while his fingers reclined on the haft,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">jarring concussion and earth-shaking din,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">Horse counter’d horse, and I reel’d, <i>but he laugh’t,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent2"><i>down went his man, cloven clean to the chin</i>!”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">Lord Tennyson has watched his charge through Mr. Russell’s
-field-glass, and we follow his view of it, but Gordon has ridden
-it and takes us with him. Old and miserable, the friend of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span>
-man who had ridden this “Last Charger,” offers up the same
-prayer as the man who had “visioned it in the smoke:”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Would to God I had died with your master, old man,”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">for—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“he was never more happy in life than in death.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">What I find so admirable in Gordon, and in almost all his
-characters is, that they are <i>men</i>, I mean <i>men</i> as opposed to
-dreamers or students. His Lancelot <i>is</i> Lancelot, the knight
-who has lived and loved largely. Tennyson’s is not. I must
-confess that I really think that “The Rhyme of Joyous Guard”
-is worth all the other “Idylls of the King,” save “Lancelot
-and Elaine,” and “The Passing of Arthur,” put together. I
-mean that I really think it has more real deep true significance.
-Take this conclusion, the last prayer of Lancelot, old and
-passed from the world:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“If ever I smote as a man should smite,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">if I struck one stroke that seem’d good in Thy sight,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">by Thy loving mercy prevailing,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">Lord! let her stand in the light of Thy face,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">cloth’d with Thy love, and crown’d with Thy grace,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">when I gnash my teeth in the terrible place</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">that is fill’d with weeping and wailing.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">This is splendid! His men, I say, are <i>men</i>, men such as we
-find in Byron. Orion (Satan) says that</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent2">“The angel Michael was once my foe;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>He had a little the best of our strife,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent2"><i>yet he never could deal so stark a blow.</i>”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">The lover in “No Name,” thinking of meeting “the slayer of
-the soul” he loved, says:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“And I know that if, here or there, alone,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">I found him fairly, and face to face,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>having slain his body, I would slay my own,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent2"><i>that my soul to Satan his soul might chase</i>:”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">a remark in the strain of Heathcliff. Most of his lovers love
-passionately and sensuously, and only passionately and sensuously:
-The poet “revels in the rosy whiteness of that golden-headed
-girl:” if one thing is harder to forgive to a successful
-rival than another it is that</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent2">“he has held her long in his arms,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">and has kissed her over and over again:”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">his chief regret over a dear dead girl is</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“for the red that never was fairly kiss’d—</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">for the white that never was fairly press’d:”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">and, when he leaves his love for ever, he is in anguish at the
-thought that</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“’twill, doubtless, be another’s lot</div>
- <div class="verse indent4">those very lips to press:”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">a remark in the more morbid strain of Keats to Fanny Brawne.</p>
-
-<p>When Lancelot first kisses Guinevere, he, the mighty knight,
-“well nigh swoons.” Love, with Gordon’s lovers, “consumes
-their hearts with a fiery drought.” “Laurence,” says Estelle to
-her lover,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Laurence, you kiss me too hard:”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">and the man of “Britomarte” is at hand with the appropriate
-criticism that</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“men at the bottom are merely brutes.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">But we must not think that <i>all</i> Gordon’s lovers love in this
-way, any more than that all his men merely charge and cheer.
-The battle is over.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“And what then? The colours reversed, the drums muffled,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">the black nodding plumes, the dead march and the pall,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">the stern faces, soldier-like, silent, unruffled,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">the slow sacred music that floats over all.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">This is beautiful, and no less beautiful is the tenderness of his
-love.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“A grim grey coast, and a sea-board ghastly,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">and shores trod seldom by feet of men—</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">where the batter’d hulk and the broken mast lie,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">they have lain embedded these long years ten.</div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>Love! when we wandered here together,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>hand in hand through the sparkling weather,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>from the heights and hollows of fern and heather,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent6"><i>God surely loved us a little then.</i>”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">Nor is it rare to find passages in him</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“with the song like the song of a maiden,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">with the scent like the scent of a flower.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">For “dark and true and tender is the north” with all its storm
-and stress.</p>
-
-<p>Poor “sick stock-rider” and poet, with his wild eyes and
-wild words, and that “shyness and reserve which kept him
-locked up, as it were, in himself!” Our proud, passionate
-heart “out-wore its breast” as “the sword outwears its sheath,”
-and so we “took our rest,” but not before we had won our
-resignation and known, or almost known, the truth, even as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span>
-Empedocles did, and yet died because “he was come too late”—or
-too soon—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“and the world hath the day, and must break thee,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">not thou the world.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Gordon won his resignation, and knew, or almost knew, the
-truth. The “criticism of life” that we find in the first two
-scenes of “The Road to Avernus” is almost ripe: pessimistic,
-it is true, but almost ripe. Laurence has lost his love, (and
-Laurence, let us remember, is the lover that “kisses too
-hard!”) Does he despair in the strain of “Rolla,” or
-“bluster,” and take refuge in the breast of “the wondrous
-mother age,” and the “vision of the world” in the strain of the
-man of “Locksley Hall?” No, he has lost his love, and the
-loss is bitter, but</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“such has been, and such shall still be, here as there, in sun or star.</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">These things are to be and will be; those things were to be and are.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">“As it was so,” he says again,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“as it was so in the beginning,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">it shall be so in the end.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">There is the feeling here of a man who is striving to see things
-as they are. He will not blind himself to things: he will not
-answer “the painful riddle of the earth” by “stopping up his
-mouth with a clod.” He will have true faith, or no faith.
-Fate rules us, he sees:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Man thinks, discarding the beaten track,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">that the sins of his youth are slain,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">when he seeks fresh sins, but he soon comes back</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">to his old pet sins again....</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">Some flashes like faint sparks from heaven,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">come rarely with rushing of wings;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">We are conscious at times, we have striven,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">though seldom, to grasp better things;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">These pass, leaving hearts that have faltered,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">good angels with faces estranged,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">and the skin of the Æthiop unalter’d,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">and the spots of the leopard unchanged.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">And yet life, life as life, independent of living and loving, of
-activity and women, is not altogether hopeless:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Doubtless all are bad, yet few are</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">cruel, false, and dissolute.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>He never gets any farther than this. He sees, or almost
-sees, truth, as Moses saw Canaan, and then he fails. He has<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span>
-not had patience enough, not clear-sightedness enough! He
-cannot enter the Promised Land. “In defiance of pain and
-terror he has pressed resolutely across the howling deserts of
-Infidelity;” but he has not the strength left to do more than
-reach “the new, firm lands of Faith beyond.” He has loved
-life, living and loving, activity and women, and he has not
-feared to look into the reality of things, man and Nature and
-God, their sunshine and their shadow, their life and their
-death, and there is no hesitation in his message to us—“Onward!
-Onward!”—But that is all. He knows nothing of
-<i>how</i> we are to go onward, or to <i>where</i>. He has had enough
-to do to get himself as far as he has got, to achieve what he
-has achieved. His life and work are a failure. We cannot
-for a moment think of calling him a great poet: his claim on
-our interest as a poet is that he is one of the poets, one of the
-martyrs, of our terrible period of transition, and that in him is
-to be found “something very like the beginnings of a national
-school of Australian poetry.” Of this second aspect of him—of
-how he is representative of what I have taken to be the
-distinctive marks of this Australian, this Melbourne civilisation,
-its general sense of movement, of progress, of conscious power:
-of this aspect of him I have spoken elsewhere, too, and there
-seems no need to do more here than to repeat the assertion.
-But, for my part, I cannot lay the stress on either this aspect
-of him, or the other which makes him “the poet of Australian
-scenery,” that I do on the first aspect of him. Gordon’s life
-and work are a failure, but they are a failure with enough
-redeeming points to raise them from local, or even colonial,
-into general interest. As our first and enthusiastic critic puts
-it: “he deserves to be ranked with the genuine poets of his
-generation,” and I feel sure that he ultimately will be. For he
-is representative not only of Australian, but of modern feeling:
-he tells not only of Australia from the fifties to the seventies,
-but of our terrible period of transition from the Old World into
-the New, from Mediævalism into Modernity.</p>
-
-<p>Poor “sick stock-rider” and poet, with his wild eyes
-and wild words—Our proud, passionate heart “outwore its
-breast,” as “the sword outwears its sheath,” and so we “took
-our rest.” “Sleep!” says Mr. Swinburne, in the most beautiful
-and satisfactory of his poems, “Ave atque Vale,” the lament
-over another of the martyrs—the author of “Les Fleurs
-du Mal:”—</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span></p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Sleep; and, if life were bitter to thee, pardon,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">if sweet, give thanks; thou hast no more to live;</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">and to give thanks is good, and to forgive ...</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">Content thee, howsoe’er, whose days are done;</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">There lies not any troublous thing before,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">nor sight nor sound to war against thee more,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">for whom all winds are quiet as the sun,</div>
- <div class="verse indent2">all waters as the shore.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="right"><i>January, 1885.</i></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/deco2.jpg" width="400" height="225" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SALVATION_ARMY">THE SALVATION ARMY.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<h3>I.</h3>
-
-<p>When a man speaks of Modern Europe, he is generally
-taken to mean the Europe of steam and electricity. As a
-matter of fact, Modern Europe really dates back to about the
-middle of the last century, when certain ideas which we call
-“modern” first began to be promulgated. And these ideas
-were not, as in this expression “Modern Europe” it is tacitly
-supposed, merely scientific; they were not only concerned
-with steam and electricity; they were social. And thus, when
-we use the expression, if we are to use it, in this particular
-sense, we should remember that it means, not only that the
-whole world is netted with railways and telegraphs, but also
-that, speaking generally, the European races are no longer
-governed by kings or aristocracies, but by middle-classes or,
-as some prefer to put it, by peoples. And this, as I take it, is
-far the more important fact of the two. I will go further, and
-say that it is the most important fact of our civilization—nay,
-that it <i>is</i> our civilization, and that, therefore, whoever would
-seek to understand the meaning of any movement, great or
-small, which is taking place in our civilization, must seek it
-here, and here only! Our civilization is our government by
-the Middle-class or, as some prefer to put it, by the People.
-But that these individuals who prefer to put it so are, let us
-say, if not mistaken, at any rate inaccurate, is precisely what I
-want in this little article to try to show, and in as striking a
-manner as I can, so that, not only may I try to do something
-towards making clear to us the real deep true significance of a
-much misunderstood movement, but also that of a much more
-misunderstood power—the Middle-class of the European races.
-I do not propose to go through my subject thoroughly: to do
-so would require more time and more space than any editor
-could afford me. I shall merely touch on one phase of the
-great spiritual movement which is at present permeating the
-European races, and then turn to consider another phase of it—a
-phase which is of peculiar interest to us of England, America,
-and Australia.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span></p>
-
-<h3>II.</h3>
-
-<p>In Europe there is but one country that still suffers the
-despotism of an aristocracy, and that country is Russia. The
-modern ideas, the modern social ideas, have taken all this
-time to pass from France, Germany, and England into Russia,
-and have seized on what, for lack of a better word, I might
-call, its nascent middle-class. The results have been, and still
-are, wonderful and terrible. A group of men (for they are
-little more) has suddenly realised that the immense mass of
-the People is being despotised over in the interest of a group
-in reality little larger than itself. All, I will not say
-freedom, but possibilities of freedom are resolutely withheld.
-Russia at present has not the guaranteed protection of its
-men’s and women’s liberties which the English of the fourteenth,
-the thirteenth, the twelfth, the eleventh, the tenth
-centuries had! This to-day is a state of things which cannot
-continue. The group of men who see and feel this, not
-clearly and quietly as we outsiders can, but intensely and
-passionately, is waging a duel to the death with the other
-group, with the despotism, for the bare principles of freedom.
-On the one hand are knowledge and light, on the other
-ignorance and darkness, the modern against the ancient
-spirit. But, thanks to the fact that there are men whose whole
-interest is to resist the one and support the other to the last,
-the light has become lightning and not only irradiates but
-strikes. It is considered by some a question whether this
-despotism, armed with all resources of wealth and military
-power, will be able to stamp out this group before the immense
-mass of the People is awakened to the meaning of it all.
-Others, however, merely consider whether the Russian government
-will be destroyed by a revolution or constitutionalized by
-a reform. We English, you see, consider it all clearly and
-quietly as mere outsiders, and so, as regards the <i>aspect</i> of the
-problem, we are; but not, not as regards the problem itself!
-These modern ideas, these social ideas, are working not only
-in Russia, where the abuses which surround them make them
-burn so fiercely, but more or less all over Europe, and in
-England rather more than less. Ireland, we all see, smoulders
-with them. And why, pray? Because England and Ireland
-are always snarling at one another, “it being their nature to?”
-Not so. It is because that aspect of the problem which is
-presented to Great Britain generally is a little more pressing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span>
-in Ireland than in England or Scotland. The trouble in
-Ireland is not national but social. The strife is not between
-Irish and English: it is between peasants and landlords.
-Unhappily many landlords are English: unhappily many
-peasants believe that the English as a nation support the landlords
-as a class. Hence whatever Irish hatred of England
-there may be; but the trouble is not, I repeat, national, it is
-social. It is the People rising against the Middle-class.</p>
-
-<p>Well, this movement, whether it be in Russia, in England, in
-Germany, in France, in America, we are all pretty well agreed
-to call the Socialistic movement. It represents the effort of
-the People after social improvement. It took its rise not from
-<i>within</i> the people, but from <i>without</i>. The French, English,
-and German Socialists were originally groups of men who suddenly
-realized that the immense mass of the People was being
-despotized over in the interest of the Middle-class. Each
-country has its peculiar aspect of this fact, but the fact is the
-same in each. In France the Middle-class made and supported
-the Empire, and, having stamped out the People’s wild
-attempt at power in ’71, made and supports the Republic. In
-Germany—dismembered Germany—the problem was pushed
-back before the apparently greater one of national unity, but
-now it arises again and demands solution. In England the
-landed proprietors, and still more the capitalists, are beginning
-to have qualms; but the real struggle does not lie between
-them and the Socialists: they are but overgrown individuals of
-a class. There will be no more Tories and no more Conservatives:
-the future lies in the struggle between Liberals and
-Socialists, the Middle-class and the People.</p>
-
-<p>This Socialistic movement, then, took its rise not from
-<i>within</i> the People but from <i>without</i>, and not in connection
-with Religion, the great ally of the powers that were, the
-Middle-class, but on the whole antagonistic to it. This movement
-took its rise in men of intellect who had little or no care
-for Religion, and its tendency is intellectual and careless of
-Religion. The Middle-class has shown nothing but dislike to
-this movement: the Middle-class has understood enough of the
-ideas of this movement to know that they are subversive of its
-own superiority. As for the People, they have understood
-little or nothing. Socialists tell them, what is indeed the
-truth, that they are the masters: that to-morrow, if they
-pleased, they could send a parliament up to Westminster that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span>
-should dictate what terms they pleased to “their lords and
-masters, the landowners and the capitalists.” The People does
-not happily believe it. They are so hopeless: they have been
-deceived so often by those who said they would help them.
-(Bill here, you see, with a wife and six children, all living in a
-den that the Zoological people would consider unfit for a
-hyena—Bill cannot be made to understand how the question
-comes home to <i>him</i>!) Besides which, let us say it at once
-and insist upon it, the People is the most long-suffering of all
-things: it desires to despoil no man, it only desires the happiness
-which mere food, clothing, and a house will give it.</p>
-
-<p>In this state of affairs—the powerlessness of the Socialists to
-bring home to the People the great idea of social improvement—lie
-the causes of the religious movement whose best-known
-and best representative is the Salvation Army.</p>
-
-<h3>III.</h3>
-
-<p>Consider it—first generally and then particularly.</p>
-
-<p>In Russia the People has religion and no freedom. In
-England the People has freedom and no religion. (In both,
-let us add, the People has misery unspeakable). The one
-question presses for solution in the one country, the other in
-the other. The two most piteous spectacles in Europe are the
-religious People of Russia, and the free People of England.
-The Aristocracy which governs the one, the Middle-class
-which governs the other, both are equally indifferent to the
-People. Add to the fact of the utter want of religion of the
-English People (it is understood that by People I mean the
-masses), the fact of their utter want of, I will not say the comforts,
-but the necessities of life, and you have a field for revolution
-such as nowhere else, I believe, presents itself save in
-Russia herself.—I speak in the present, as if the problem
-presented itself to me to-day just as it did years ago, and I am
-delighted to notice that at last the English Middle-class is
-awakening to the fact of the misery of the People, and also of
-the danger of letting that misery continue. But it is quite a
-mistake to suppose that either the one or the other is mitigated,
-not to say ended, or that it will be so for years to come.</p>
-
-<p>Religion in England—and Religion has, inaptly enough,
-become a synonym for Christianity, in which general sense of
-the term I use it here—Religion in England, just like everything
-else, is conducted in the interest of the Middle-class. Go<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span>
-into the London back-streets on a sunday morning. You will
-find the men leaning against the walls, the women at the
-doors, the children in the gutters. The public-houses, you
-observe, are closed: the Middle-class does not like that the
-People should be drinking beer and spirits while they themselves
-are indulging in religious worship. Enter the church or
-the chapel. What are the services like? We all know them—a
-performance on the part of the choir, or a discreet, sibilant,
-half-articulate murmur on the part of the congregation. The
-clergyman or minister reads out a portion of the wonderful and
-beautiful history of Jesus in a fine meaningless monotone, and
-“here endeth the second lesson.” But of the passion and the
-peace of the Galilean story, what does <i>he</i> know? He has
-forgotten or never known Jesus, but he can tell you plenty
-about Christ. Listen to the sermons. What do they treat of?
-Matters that are likely to interest the men and women outside
-there? The sermons are empty of Jesus and full of Christ—empty
-of the truth of the Master and full of the dogmas of the
-Pupils. Theology, theological dogmas, Catholic or Protestant,
-are perhaps interesting to men and women who are well to do,
-and like to have something to argue about; but what does
-poverty care for them? The man who has eaten a good
-breakfast and is waiting for a good dinner may care to have it
-shown to him, that he and his fellows are the one body of
-Christians that is absolutely and entirely orthodox; but
-the man with an empty belly, and little or no prospect of
-filling it, may perhaps be forgiven for not caring a jot whether
-these are blasts of true or false doctrine, or not. The matter
-does not affect him: he stops outside. So should we.</p>
-
-<p>Now, I would not for a moment imply that there are not
-priests, clergymen, and ministers who have done, and are
-doing, fine and noble work among the People. There are
-many such. But what I do say is, that, speaking generally, the
-church and the chapel have both utterly failed to seriously
-affect the mass of the People, and that they have done so for the
-reasons I have given above.—“In the year 1865,” says Mr.
-Booth in one of the Salvation Army pamphlets, “Mr. Booth
-was led, by the Providence of God, by no plan or idea of his
-own, to the East of London, where the appalling fact that the
-enormous bulk of the population were totally ignorant and
-deficient of real religion, and altogether uninfluenced by the
-existing religious organizations, so impressed him that he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span>
-determined to devote his life to <i>making</i> these people <i>hear</i> and
-<i>know</i> God, and thus save them from the abyss of misery in
-which they were plunged, and rescue them from the damnation
-that was before them. The Salvation Army is the result.”
-<i>The Salvation Army is the result.</i> He simply states the fact.
-It was “by no plan or idea of his own.” He has, so far as I
-know, never explained more than the phenomena of it.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> I
-have talked with one of his sons on the subject, and all he has
-to tell me in explanation of 859 corps or stations, 2041 paid
-officials, and <i>War Cry</i> newspapers with a weekly circulation of
-550,000, is <i>how</i>, as he takes it, the Salvationists “get at” the
-People; but he knows, and probably cares, absolutely nothing
-about the <i>why</i>. “The grate was set,” I say, “You were the
-match, and behold the fire!” “It is the Lord,” he says, and I
-do not think of contradicting him. It is not natural that a
-man who takes part in a movement should know more than the
-<i>how</i> of it, should know the <i>why</i>. If he did, he would not be
-as unhesitating as he is in his belief that his movement is so
-good. To achieve little we must aim at much. He who lives
-passionately in the present must leave the dead to bury their
-dead and the babes unborn to consider their suckling: he must
-create, he has not time to criticise. At the same time how
-important it is that there should be not only doers but
-watchers; not only creators but critics; not only those who
-concern themselves with the <i>how</i> but also those who concern
-themselves with the <i>why</i>, for the <i>why</i> unlocks the gates of both
-the past and the future: it tells us not only the <i>whence</i> but also
-the <i>whither</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Now, as I have said, in a certain state of affairs which we
-have noticed lies <i>this why</i>, and there, if we can only look well
-enough, we shall find it. The Salvation Army is, like everything
-else an organism. It has its seed, and all its stages of
-development up to its maturity and down into its decay, when
-it, too, like everything else, will go to form nutriment for other
-organisms, just as others have for its own.</p>
-
-<p>Now, nothing will help us more in our search after this <i>why</i>
-than a knowledge of the <i>how</i>, and, since this knowledge is, at
-any rate among the governing classes, wonderfully limited, I propose
-giving a short account of how the Salvation Army and its
-work has struck me personally. It seems almost needless to
-state that I am an unprejudiced observer. The Salvation<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span>
-Army, as the Salvation Army, is literally nothing to me: my only
-interest in it lies in the influence which it exerts, whether for
-good or evil, on the People. I have no cause to plead. If
-anyone can point out mistakes of mine, or even demonstrate
-to me that my whole view of this matter is an illusion, no one,
-I am sure, will be more pleased and grateful than myself.
-Those are our real benefactors who demonstrate to us an
-illusion and open the way to a better view of things.</p>
-
-<h3>IV.</h3>
-
-<p>I propose, I said, giving a short account of how the Salvation
-Army and its work has struck me personally. When I
-was in England I studied it, as I study all movements that are
-going on around me, with more or less care. Since I have
-been in Australia I have done the same, and, as I have found
-the differences between the English and Australian Salvation
-Armies to be immaterial ones, and as I am now addressing an
-Australian audience, I shall speak of the Salvation Army as I
-have seen it here, so that he who cares may go and see for
-himself whether I am correct or incorrect in my view of it.
-This, too, will enable him more easily, if he desires it, to point
-out my mistakes and even demonstrate to me that my whole
-view is an illusion, and make me his pleased and grateful
-debtor for life. First, however, let me just notice what these
-differences between the English and Australian Salvation
-Armies are. In one word the Australian is less exaggerative.
-The People in Australia breathes free: it does not feel the
-weight of the two great divisions of the Middle-class that is
-above it, the well-to-do and the gentlemen. Workmen here
-do not go slouching down the streets, as they do in England,
-crushed under the sense of their inferiority. This is a true
-republic, the truest, as I take it, in the world. In England
-the average man feels that he is an inferior: in America he
-feels that he is a superior: in Australia he feels that he is an
-equal. This is indeed delightful. It is the first thing that
-strikes a new arrival in this country, and although Australia’s
-sins—sins against true civilization, I mean—are as many as they
-are heinous, still a multitude of them, as it seems to me, is
-covered by this—namely, that here the People is neither servile
-nor insolent, but only shows its respect of itself by its respect
-of others. Nowhere else but in France is there, I think,
-anything quite like it.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span></p>
-
-<p>There is, then, naturally less exaggerativeness in the Australian
-than the English Salvation Army. When a man is, as
-they say, “saved” there, it is from a far deeper “abyss of
-misery” than it is here. The very atmosphere of England is
-heavy with the degradation of the People. For a man to
-become, no longer passively, but actively aware of this, is
-almost overwhelming, and so is his feeling when he believes
-that he has escaped from it. Hence those wild words and acts
-of the Salvationists which have offended so many. Add to
-this the excitement caused by a large gathering, religious
-emulation, etc., etc., and the matter is a simple one.</p>
-
-<p>Now let us go to a Salvationist popular service, and see their
-manner of work there. The hall is crowded. The great bulk
-of the congregation is made up of the upper stratum of the
-People, servants, small shopkeepers, etc. There are also a not
-inconsiderable number of the lower stratum of the People,
-labourers. Many outsiders have come from curiosity. On the
-stage or platform are a certain number of the regular paid
-officials in their uniforms, and of “hallelujah lasses” in their
-straight dresses and poke-bonnets. Considering these men and
-women attentively, what most strikes us is that the generality
-are, as Jeffrey said lightly of Carlyle, “terribly in earnest.”
-Some have the business-like air of all officials, religious or
-otherwise: some have a somewhat disgusted air, as if they were
-rather wearying of it all, now that the novelty has worn off.
-But the generality of them are, there is no doubt of it,
-“terribly in earnest.” Presently the head officials enter, and
-the service is opened with a hymn. The Salvationists sing
-well: I remember that, at the first Salvationist service at
-which I was present, this singing of theirs was something like
-a revelation to me. It was not its “go,” as we say, that
-affected me: it was its depth and sweetness. It comes from
-the heart and goes to the heart. This is the only language the
-People can either use or understand.</p>
-
-<p>Just beside me a little boy of four or five, standing between
-his father’s knees with shut eyes and waving arm, is shouting
-and bawling out the words of the hymn, so that he may attract
-attention and be an “edification.” It is painful. (Later on
-during a prayer he lies along the floor on his stomach and eats
-a green apple and pinches a bigger boy’s legs. Myself, I
-prefer him like that.) During the prayers there are frequent
-interruptions, chiefly from the platform, of “Hallelujah,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span>
-“Praise God,” and so on, for the most part in a business-like
-fashion, quite formal. A man cannot repeat the same words
-and acts for long with impunity.—These, and things like these,
-are the inevitable accompaniments of all services, religious or
-otherwise. We take them for granted, and pass on.</p>
-
-<p>Presently a man is brought forward to give his testimony.
-He begins by saying that he never thought to address such a
-gathering as this, that he is a poor ignorant man, and so on,
-but that he trusts in Jesus to help him through alright. He
-tells his tale. It is a tale for ever old and for ever new. He
-was a drunkard, he was debauched, a blasphemer. He used
-his wife and children ill, he paid no heed to the clergyman and
-the minister. Then a Salvationist came to him and told him
-about Jesus. And that converted him, and now, etc., etc.,
-etc. His excitement grows: his voice rises to a high-pitched
-monotone. He implores, he begs, he entreats, he abjures.
-“Come to Jesus, come to Jesus! It’s only him can make you
-happy! You don’t know how he loves you!—O dear people,”
-he bursts out at length, “I could <i>die</i> for you, if you would only
-come to him!” In the end, it is painful: the high-pitched
-monotone oppresses us, and we are glad when he has ended.</p>
-
-<p>Another follows, but with little or no variety. Then a girl
-speaks, “happy Janet” (say). She has just the same tale to
-tell: it is all Jesus, nothing but Jesus! “To think,” I heard
-one of these girls say, hushed and awed, “to think that the
-Son of God loved us so that he suffered all this for <i>us</i>! To
-think of the thorns wounding his beautiful brow!” and her
-voice broke.—Janet cannot say too much about the suffering
-of Jesus, because it was because he loved us all so, that he
-suffered. Then she tells how she had a brother, and the
-brother thought he was old enough to be by hisself, and do
-for hisself, and he went away, away to Màn-chester, and they
-were all very sad about it, e-specially mother. And the days
-and the weeks and the months went by, and they never heard
-anythink about him, and they went out and up and down the
-town, hoping he might come back and they might see him
-again, for he might be ashamed, they thought, to come into
-the house. And sometimes mother’d come to wake her up
-early in the morning, and say: “Come, Janet, let’s go out and
-look for Tom: maybe we’ll find him <i>this</i> morning.” And
-they used to go out and look for him in the early morning, and
-they couldn’t find him. But at last he <i>did</i> come back, and O,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span>
-dear people, how thin he was! Yes, he’d had enough of it!
-He found he couldn’t do for hisself after all, so he came back
-to mother and us, and we loved him more than ever.—And O,
-dear people, that’s the way with <i>us</i> and Jesus. We think we’re
-old enough to be by ourselves and to do for ourselves. But
-we ar’n’t: we’re never old enough to do without Jesus! He’s
-always loving us and strengthening us and giving us peace.
-So come to him; don’t wait any longer but come to him!
-Don’t think you’re too wicked. No one’s too wicked for
-Jesus: he suffered for us and he died for us, for <i>you</i> and <i>me</i>,
-and he loves us more than all the others do, and we can’t tell
-how glad it makes him when we come to him! Here, as in
-the singing, it is not the “go,” the excitement, which affects us
-most, it is the depth and sweetness. It comes from the heart
-and goes to the heart. It is the only language the People can
-either use or understand.</p>
-
-<p><i>Jesus!</i>—It is always Jesus, I say, never or very rarely Christ.
-These Salvationists feel and know their Master. With them
-he lives: with us he exists. And Jesus is to them as some one
-dowered with all the possibilities of mortal happiness who yet
-renounced everything from his great love for the People, and
-suffered and died for them a cruel death. Herein is the secret
-of the sempiternal influence of Jesus: he is the great Lover.
-I do not for a moment think that these Salvationists have any
-connected scheme of the character or life of Jesus. They
-cannot argue about him, they would say: they know that he
-<i>lives</i>. They lay little or no stress on the risen Jesus, the
-Christ. Their concern is with the living Jesus, him who loved
-the flowers and the children and the publicans and the harlots,
-him who showed his love by his life and above all by his cruel
-death. This Jesus was not a philanthropist: he was better, he
-was a lover. “He, who might have been a great king, actually
-preferred to come and suffer and die a cruel death because he
-loved us so!” This love, this pity seems to them unique,
-godlike. “<i>To think of the thorns wounding his beautiful brow.</i>”
-Hence the power of Jesus to awaken in men a sense of sin,
-and, still more, a hope of salvation. “Why,” they ask, “did
-this wonderful beautiful Jesus suffer all this?—<i>why?</i>” Then
-comes the answer. “<i>Because he saw that I was a sinner and
-he loved and pitied me so, that he suffered all this for my sake.</i>”
-It is an overwhelming fact. Once get a man to see it and his
-life is revolutionised: he believes in Love.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span></p>
-
-<p>Napoleon, we remember, was puzzled by this sempiternal
-influence of Jesus. He remarked that he himself understood
-how to awaken in his own behalf the enthusiasm of men, but
-he was alive, whereas Jesus was dead. “<i>O Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
-thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are
-sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children
-together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings,
-but ye would not!</i>” Yearning love like this was a mystery to
-our wonderful destructive Emperor: he would have called it
-foolish. And to many others beside him this sempiternal
-influence of Jesus has been, is, and will be the same. Here is
-our good Man of Science, the immortal dunce who dates
-knowledge from “Social Statics” and the “Origin of Species,”
-who thinks Jesus was a very fine character, you know,
-but full of superstition and delusion. And here is our
-most irrational of Rationalists who has a pathetic faith in the
-method of the late lamented Bishop Colenso, a method which
-consists in the profound consideration of the geometry of
-the empyrean and the colour of mathematical figures. And
-lastly, here is our dear blatant Secularist whose discourse so
-pleasantly shows us how a man who was a blockhead as a
-Christian can be doubly a blockhead as a Secularist.—Here, I
-say, are these three types, or let us take them as individuals.
-Here is our good friend Mr. Caffyn, who was writing such
-brilliant letters to the <i>Argus</i> the other day, letters which
-show a nice acquaintance with the books of Dr. Maudsley
-and the rudiments of modern physiology; and here is
-the late lamented Sir Richard Hanson of Adelaide, whose
-mantle is just now descending on Mr. Justice Williams; and,
-lastly, here is our loquacious friend at the Hall of Science, Mr.
-Joseph Symes. All these gather around the poor ignorant
-labourer who is “saved,” and demonstrate to him his foolishness
-in believing in such an outworn piece of nonsense as
-Christianity. “As for this Jesus of yours, my good man,”
-they say after their several fashions, “he was a very fine
-character, you know, but—<i>he was only a man just like you or
-me</i>!” To whom the poor ignorant labourer answers with a
-smile: “Whether he be a fine character or not, I know not:
-one thing I know, that, <i>whereas I was blind, now I see</i>.” Come
-away, Mr. Caffyn: come away, ghost of Sir Richard: come
-away, Mr. Symes. It is quite useless to talk with a besotted
-Christo-maniac like this. Why, he absolutely believes that he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span>
-has a spiritual experience of which you are ignorant, and can
-afford to smile at you! After this, the deluge!—Gentlemen,
-hadn’t you better go home to dinner, and leave the poor devil
-alone?</p>
-
-<p>To return to the meeting, which is not yet concluded.—When
-the testimonies are all given, those who feel that they
-have been leading a life of sin are exhorted to come forward
-and profess. The hall empties. Ten or twelve, men and
-women, young men and girls, come forward and kneel down at
-a bench in front of the platform. Some are inclined to be
-hysterical. The Salvationists, men and women, come and
-talk to them, leaning against them, their arms round their
-shoulders, exhorting and encouraging. This, you see, is
-Religious Socialism. No one can love Jesus, “the divine
-Communist” (as Heine calls him), with impunity. If you
-love, and to love is to know, Jesus, you must get others to
-love and to know him, and your desire to get others fills you
-with the same yearning love for them that Jesus has for you:
-“<i>O dear people, I could <span class="antiqua">die</span> for you, if you would only come to
-him</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>Then, when no more will come forward, the service concludes
-with each of those who is “saved,” speaking before
-them all—saying what has come to him to make him repent,
-and expressing his firm determination to lead a better life.
-The first step has now been taken—the man by his public
-confession is compromised. He cannot now so easily fall
-back. He is known to his fellows, who will exhort and
-encourage him. He has every incentive to date a new life
-from to-day, not to put it off over and over again to “to-morrow.”</p>
-
-<p>What, is all this, then, a trap? Yes, if you care to call it
-so. Men, to whom the “saved” and the “unsaved” life, the
-bliss of heaven and the anguish of hell, is a passionate reality,
-speak of it passionately to the ignorant or the careless, and
-then (like true guilefully guileless religionists) take advantage
-of the moment of realization which they have aroused in a soul,
-to compromise that soul before the world to lead a new life of
-continual realization. You see, these Salvationists are of the
-men and women of the People and they know the men and
-women, not only of the People, but of each and every class of
-us: they know how frail is unaided resolution, and they act on
-their knowledge. Do not think, though, that they believe that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span>
-weakness of will is to be found only among the People. Far
-from it! They attack Respectability, they attack the hypocrisy
-of the Middle-class, as fearlessly as they attack the open sin of
-the People. Our good clergymen and ministers, for whom I
-have, in many respects, so much admiration, are afraid to
-attack the Middle-class: the Middle-class is the payer of pew-rents.
-Alas, alas, ye cannot serve God and Mammon! It is
-really a great nuisance; but ye cannot! Now these Salvationists
-do not happen to have pews: so they need not stand
-hat in hand before Respectability. They can say boldly that
-the Publican is as good as the Pharisee: that hypocrisy is no
-better, if it is not far worse, than open sin. Look, to it, my in-so-many-respects-admirable
-clergymen and ministers, you are
-not masters here but pupils!</p>
-
-<h3>V.</h3>
-
-<p>I am not going to discuss the question of Salvationist ritual.
-Brass bands and concertinas give but a poor idea of “the
-beauty of holiness:” a dissenting chapel does the same.
-Banners and handkerchiefs and so on are apt to be tawdry: so
-are dressed statues, standards, incense, and the rest. But who,
-considering the hideousness of Protestantism and the tawdriness
-of Catholicism, would therefore call Protestantism hideous
-and Catholicism tawdry? Certainly not I who am so sincere
-an admirer of them both. Neither, then, considering what we
-hear called the Christy-Minstrelism and Music-Hallism of the
-Salvation Army, must we think that, when we have called their
-meetings Christy Minstrels or Music Halls, we have quite disposed
-of them. Alas, my dear Middle-class, cannot you see
-that the People is what you, who govern the People, have
-made it? Might I, a humble unit of your millions, suggest to
-you that it is just because, what you call, your Upper Ten
-Thousand is hideous that you are more hideous? and that it
-is just because you, my dear Middle-class, are more hideous
-that the People is most hideous? Will it be many ages, I
-wonder, before you can be got to see this?—to see that you
-had better take the mote out of your own eye before you are
-so enthusiastic about taking the beams out of the eyes of your
-neighbours?</p>
-
-<p>If, however, anyone wants to see what Mr. Booth himself
-has to say in defence of his “Colours, Bands of Music, Processions,
-and other sensational methods employed” (as he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span>
-says), I would refer him to a little penny pamphlet called
-“All about the Salvation Army,” which can be got at the
-Salvation Army Head-quarters in Russell Street. For myself, I
-have nothing to do with this side of the question: I profess that
-I consider most church-bells are as bad as most brass-bands,
-and am profoundly indifferent as to whether they are, as Mr.
-Booth would like to know, “unscriptural” or not. I am of
-opinion that the admirers of church-bells and brass-bands had
-better fight it out among themselves.</p>
-
-<p>I have as good as said that what makes the outer strength of
-the Salvationists is their realization of Jesus as liver and lover.
-Love, yearning love, is undoubtedly the chief characteristic of
-Jesus. But, just as the sun gives forth not only heat but
-light, so did he. His life was love: his death was peace.
-“<i>My peace I leave with you.</i>” And it is just here, just in
-their realization of “the mildness and sweet reasonableness” of
-Jesus that the Salvationists are apt to be lacking: and it is just
-here that the Church of England more than any other Christian
-sect is, as it seems to me, so strong. The <i>Hymns Ancient and
-Modern</i> are, on the whole, the best song-book extant of this
-“mildness and sweet reasonableness.” We must not, however,
-think that this demand for the peace as well as the love of
-Jesus is not recognised by the Salvationists: it is, but I cannot
-think that it is recognised adequately. As soon as a man is
-“saved” and has “professed,” there are open to him, what
-they call, the Holiness Meetings. These are the answer to the
-demand for peace. But they differ only particularly from the
-other meetings. They are smaller, and hence quieter, than
-the others; but there is, so to speak, too much heat and too
-little light in them. Here is the weak point in the Salvationist
-movement, just as it is the strong point in (I always take the
-best example our Christianity can give us) the Church of
-England. Here it is the turn of the Salvationists to be not
-masters, but pupils. Let us hope that they will see this, and
-not only teach, but also (which is so much more difficult) be
-ready to learn from, us.</p>
-
-<h3>VI.</h3>
-
-<p>There are still two parts of the work of the Salvationists to
-consider—their work with the inmates of the prisons, and their
-work with the inmates of the brothels. Here again we have
-everything to learn from them, from them the true disciples of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span>
-“the divine Communist.” The former work they have made
-a speciality of, and they are rapidly making the latter. I
-doubt very much that our churches and chapels (I am not
-speaking now of the Catholics, whose work is almost exclusively
-among the Irish, and the Irish are of a race that,
-save in the matter of agrarian crime and a curious cruelty to
-dumb animals, is truly admirable for the honesty of its men
-and the chastity of its women): I doubt very much, I say, that
-our churches and chapels will ever get much at either the
-criminals or the prostitutes. Our clergymen, who are so
-gentlemanly, and our ministers who are so respectable, can
-neither speak nor understand much the language of the
-People, the language of the heart. The clergymen are
-shocked by the foulness, the ministers by the ferocity, of the
-People. Both feel that they are condescending—the one
-from the height of refinement, the other from the height of
-righteousness. The people has no love for condescension of
-this sort. There are few words that stink more in its nostrils
-than that of charity, and indeed charity, when it means a gift
-from a superior to an inferior, is hateful enough. It is a popular
-delusion with the “charitable” that street beggars and the
-inmates of the workhouses are the People. Far otherwise is
-it, O “charitable” ones: these are not independent animals,
-they are parasites: they are (if you will pardon me saying so)
-your spiritual lice; so please make the best of them, since it is
-not only on account of, but <i>on</i>, you that they live.</p>
-
-<p>Well, now, wherein is it that these fanatical ignorant Salvationists
-<i>do</i> get at the People? One of them answers us at
-once: “<i>No one’s too wicked for Jesus, and so no one’s too
-wicked for me who am the simple follower of Jesus.</i> If <i>he</i>
-could do with publicans and harlots, why cannot I?” They
-say, as Walt Whitman says to “a common prostitute,”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Not till the sun excludes you do I exclude you,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you and the leaves to rustle for you, do my words refuse to glisten and rustle for you.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">This, you see, is Religious Socialism. It proclaims the spiritual
-equality of all men. The <i>spiritual</i> equality, let us notice; it
-will have nothing to do with the social equality. “<i>My kingdom
-is not of this world.... Give unto Cæsar the things
-which be Cæsar’s, and to God the things which be God’s.</i>”
-“Honour all men,” says Peter, “love the brotherhood, fear
-God, honour the king.” And more: Religious Socialism has<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span>
-a tendency to be careless of the dogmas of the creeds. “Is
-the Army hostile,” asks Mr. Booth, “to the existing evangelical
-denominations? Just the contrary. Numbers of its converts
-go to swell the membership of the churches. More than 400
-persons, converted and trained in its ranks, have been engaged
-by other different religious organisations as Evangelists, Ministers,”
-etc., etc., etc. We notice that he says “<i>evangelical</i>
-denominations?” The Catholics, of course, from (who shall I
-say?) Augustine to Pascal and Newman, are poor belated
-idolaters, only slightly better than the heathen. This, you
-see, is where Mr. Booth, like Mr. Spurgeon and the rest, so
-pleasantly shows us what nonsense an earnest short-sighted
-man is capable of believing and brandishing about the world
-with a godless blatancy. Personally, I cannot make myself
-angry with any of them for it. For what would an earnest
-man be without his faults? without, as D’Israeli puts it, a
-single redeeming vice?</p>
-
-<p>In Melbourne there is a tendency now to let the Salvation
-Army have its own way unmolested with the criminals and the
-prostitutes. “It can’t do any harm,” people say, “and it may
-do good, and really, you know, the—the Social Evil wants
-looking to.” Nay, more: having made this nice expression
-“Social Evil,” we are at last plucking up courage to acknowledge
-that it exists, and that it is not necessarily a sign of
-filthy-mindedness to wish to discuss it. We speak of it now in
-papers which come under the eye of those dear creatures about
-whose stainless purity of mind we are all so anxious (even that
-Puritanic print, the <i>Melbourne Bulletin</i> is anxious, and the
-<i>Sydney Bulletin</i>, also, for all I know to the contrary)—“our
-wives and daughters.” Why, possibly there are those among us
-who will live to see the day when the expression “fearful
-sinner,” as applied to some poor girl driven out into the miseries
-of the streets, will be confined to the utterance of our good
-friends of the Scotch Presbytery, and other few such like.
-Then, it will be amusing: at present, it is only detestable.</p>
-
-<h3>VII.</h3>
-
-<p>Now let us go to the Barracks of the Prison Brigade, and
-see what has to be seen there. The officials (all, I believe, old
-criminals) and the men that they have just got hold of, are
-gathered for a sort of home service. Man after man, boy after
-boy, rises to give his “experience.” The “experiences” can<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span>
-be pretty easily imagined. Then there are hymns, choruses,
-addresses by the higher officials present. All, or almost all
-here, there is no doubt of it, are “terribly in earnest.” The
-interruptions, “Hallelujah,” “Praise God,” and so on, are all
-earnest. One boy with a maimed face gets up and says: “I
-was miserable in the streets, I’m very happy now. God bless
-the Major,” and sits down again. For me, I confess that, over
-and over again, I have not known whether to answer the
-word and acts of these men, or shall I say children, with smiles
-or tears. Now and then I have answered them with both.</p>
-
-<p>Afterwards we are shown the bedrooms, observing that we
-do not want to see them. I have seen many bedrooms that
-were delightful, and many keepers thereof whose hearts were
-as clean and hard as the floors. Also I have seen bedrooms
-that were poor and crowded, and the keepers thereof whose
-hearts were as rich as love and as soft as pity. I prefer the
-latter, myself, if I must choose between them, but tastes of
-course are different. Then the boy with the maimed face is
-brought in, to tell his tale and show his wounded leg. The
-People like you to look at their wounds and sores and casualties
-generally. It is painful. It is like the young ladies of the
-Middle-class who like you to look at their drawings and
-paintings, or listen to their playing and singing. I do not
-know which habit is the more painful of the two—perhaps,
-on the whole, the latter. The first only hurts my senses:
-the second hurts my soul. It makes me lose hope in my
-ideas for the future of the Middle-class: it makes me think it
-is doomed to the hideousness of clap-trap for ever. It is like
-a visit to the sculpture at the Melbourne Public Library.</p>
-
-<p>They show us the rooms and bring us the boy, you notice,
-in that practical English spirit which is intent on making it
-clear that their cry is proportionate to their wool, a fact of
-which we are not altogether ignorant. Hence our carelessness
-about more than a glance at the rooms, or a short talk with
-the boy with the maimed face. I think I could tell him as
-much about himself as he can tell me. I have known him
-many times before.</p>
-
-<p>It is pleasing to notice here how much they insist on the
-new life, how comparatively little stress they lay on the “conversion,”
-on the being “saved.” Also, that the Salvationists
-know how to laugh. It is only men who keep their religion
-for a fine heavy diet on sunday who cannot pray at one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span>
-moment and laugh at another. If my religion is a part of <i>me</i>,
-it is also clearly a part of my laughter.</p>
-
-<p>Now let us go the rounds of the opium dens and brothels
-round about Little Bourke Street. We walk, my Salvationist
-and I, into any house that we wish. No one opposes us: only
-once in the whole evening are we spoken to other than
-respectfully. “<i>You see</i>,” says the mistress of the most facially
-contorted Chinee I have yet seen, “<i>You see, the Salvationists
-helps the girls, that’s why we likes ’em!</i>” Here we are in a
-den, a girl lying on one side of the bed (the Chinese beds are
-like large alcoves. In the middle is the opium-tray, containing
-the pipe, a lamp, etc.), a Chinee on the other,
-getting her pipe ready for her. We sit and chat with
-her. She tells us about herself simply enough, showing
-no signs of wishing to alter her condition. Then the
-other girl comes in, and we chat with her. My Salvationist
-recognises her: she was at Bella’s funeral. (Bella was a girl
-who fell down dead in the brothel opposite, and the Army
-buried her. All “the girls” about clubbed together, hired cabs,
-and went to the funeral.) “O yes,” says the girl to him, “you
-said the service for Bella.” She too tells us about herself
-simply enough. Her mother is at Ballarat.—“Does she know
-you’re here?”—“O yes, she knows.”—“Does she think you’re
-in service?”—“O no, <i>she</i> knows what I’m doing;” and so on.
-Presently I go into the other room and talk pigeon English
-with the remarkable spectacled Chinee, who is like a venerable
-old ape. Why will the English girls come and live with the
-Chinese? The answer is simple: the Chinese both pay
-them well and are kind to them. These girls are not bruised
-on the face and arms as most of the others are.</p>
-
-<p>You perceive now how the Salvationists work here? They
-are the “friends” of the girls: they “help” them. Find out
-from a girl if she is miserable: find out if she would sooner go
-back to a respectable life. Go everywhere fearlessly: Find
-out if any girl is being detained against her wishes. Be gentle
-with them as with equals. Make them feel that you care for
-them for their own sakes. Work upon their feelings—speak of
-their home, their mother, their father, their brothers, their
-sisters. Offer them a new start. Then, the moment that of
-their own free will they are ready to come, put them into a cab
-and drive straight away with them to the Home. Here they
-come under the influence of the women officials of the Army,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span>
-(some of whom, however, also do visiting work), the same
-system being pursued with them as with the men. They are
-not made to feel that they are dealing with people more loftily
-refined or more loftily righteous than themselves. They are not
-made to feel that they are “fearful sinners.” They are made
-to feel that sin is fearful and that they have sinned fearfully,
-but that they have every hope before them, hope of a new life
-before God and man. As for the women officials of the Salvation
-Army, I will say this, that in no body of female religionists,
-except the Catholic Sisters, have I found so many
-sweet true women. I have also known Anglican Sisters who
-were well worthy of a place beside them. Such women are
-the essence of Christianity. They are the true children of
-Mary Magdalene and Monica, of the love and of the affection
-of the soul. Preference for any one of these three classes,
-there can be none. I cannot exalt true love above true affection
-any more than I can exalt heat above light: their joy is
-equal. But in one respect the Salvationist women have an
-advantage over the others, just as the Salvationist men have
-over the celibate priests—in just that, in the fact that they need
-not be celibates. Many of these Salvationist girls and women
-are the sweethearts or wives of their fellow-workers. This, I
-think, is as it should be. He who neglects or despises that
-great law of Nature and God, passion, will be assuredly
-punished for it. To make a large body of men and women
-celibates is to put a premium on immorality and hypocrisy.
-This great rock the Salvation Army has avoided, and herein it
-has done most wisely. Here, where Rome is weak, it is
-strong. We must not, however, think that there is nothing to
-be said in behalf of celibacy: there is much, very much. If
-we were all men like Francis of Assissi or Vincent de Paul, it
-would be perfect; but unfortunately we are not. At the same
-time, he who has seen the work of Catholic priests and of
-Protestant clergymen or ministers in times of plague and pest
-must feel how great a clog to perfect courage are those
-hostages a man has given to fate in wife and children. On the
-other hand, observe that times of pest and plague are comparatively
-rare, and that every great idea when put into
-practice is but a mixed good. What we have to do is to
-choose that which has least evil, or shall we say most good,
-and this can, we feel sure, be only chosen in conformity with
-all of those few great primeval laws which are the guides of life,
-which are the direct words of Nature and of God.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span></p>
-
-<h3>VIII.</h3>
-
-<p>So much, then, for the <i>how</i> of the Salvation Army. Let us
-now consider if it has helped us to the <i>why</i>—nay, if it has
-not absolutely told us the <i>why</i>! Did we not instinctively catch
-at something we saw two or three times rising before us as with
-small but teleological significance in it? Did we not feel, as
-we uttered that expression with which this something inspired
-us, that here was the <i>why</i> in propria persona? <i>Religious
-Socialism.</i></p>
-
-<p>In this state of affairs—the powerlessness of the Socialists
-to bring home to the People the great idea of social improvement:
-in the misery unspeakable of the People; in the
-atmosphere heavy with the degradation of the People—what is
-it that the People has done? <i>It has evolved a movement</i>, <i>no
-longer from</i> without, <i>but from</i> within <i>itself</i>. <i>It has sought for
-consolation for its unspeakable wretchedness in the perennial
-spring of Religion, of the yearning love of Jesus. It has, at the
-touch of the first match that came to it, blazed up into the flaming
-fire of Religious Socialism.</i></p>
-
-<p>In the early part of the thirteenth century the People did
-the same, the People of Italy. But what a heaven lies between
-the man who led <i>that</i> movement and the man that is leading
-this! O my eloquent Rationalists, O my loquacious
-Secularists, both of you whom I esteem so much—how ready
-are you to talk of the degradation which that gigantic superstition
-and delusion, Christianity, wrought upon the People!
-Whenever are you tired of brandishing “starry Galileo” and
-scattering the scattered dust of poor old Copernicus in the face
-of Catholicism, making it to tremble and sneeze fearfully?
-Does it never occur to you that that divine Goddess Scientia,
-whom you worship with such noble devotion, has wrought a
-far deeper degradation on the people than Catholicism ever
-did? Have you never seen, crouching under the shadow of
-your railways and your telegraphs and all your improved
-machinery, the unspeakable wretchedness of London, of Birmingham,
-of Manchester, of Glasgow? And now that this
-People, whose lives your Goddess has made of such a sort that
-they will not stand too favourable a comparison with those of
-dogs—now that this People, in its passionate searching after
-some consolation, however slight, of whatever sort, seizes on this
-creature of superstition and delusion, this Jesus who is <i>only a
-man, just like you or me</i>, and whom you have so triumphantly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span>
-proved so, and makes him the text for this flaming fire of
-Religious Socialism—has it never struck you, O my eloquent
-Rationalists, O my loquacious Secularists, what an appalling
-difference there is between Salvation Army banners, handkerchiefs,
-brass-bands, and concertinas, and the “green boughs,
-flags, music, and songs of gladness” that came forth from the
-Umbrian towns and villages to welcome Francis of Assissi?
-have you never felt that there is any essential difference
-between the perpetual Revivalist hymn of “My Jesus to know
-and to feel his blood flow,” and the “Canticle of the
-Creatures?” But, above all, have you never felt that it is
-more to that divine Goddess Scientia, whom you worship with
-such noble devotion, than to anything else that this appalling
-difference is due?</p>
-
-<p>And you, O my Middle-class, of whom I am so humble a
-unit, did it ever occur to you that it is rather a foolish thing to
-paint a boy’s face black and then be shocked at it? If the
-People, its foulness and its ferocity, makes you shiver and
-shudder, who pray made it foul and fierce but you who govern
-it?—What do you say? “It was no business of yours?”
-That was what Cain said, but respectable Christians like you
-are not surely going to take that eminent casuist as your
-mouth-piece? If you were Atheists or Agnostics, now, worshippers
-of “the struggle for existence and survival of the
-fittest,” of course that would be another matter, but you are
-Christians, respectable Christians who always wear black coats
-on Sundays, and object to having the Library and Picture-Gallery
-open.</p>
-
-<p>Well, there! I cannot make myself angry with you, my dear
-Middle-class. I admire your good qualities too much for that—too
-much indeed, as I often tell myself; for who shall say
-but that my belief in your ultimate regeneration and new birth
-unto a really glorious place in a true civilization be not, after
-all, but infatuation? Here is Carlyle, whom we all love and
-admire so, trying to be our benefactor by demonstrating to us
-our illusions on this matter, and telling us, ever since 1830, of
-the “steady approach of democracy with revolution (probably
-explosive) and a finis incomputable to man; steady decay of
-all morality, political, social, individual; this once noble
-England getting more and more ignoble, and untrue in every
-fibre of it, till the gold (Goethe’s composite king) will all be
-eaten out, and noble England will have to collapse in shapeless<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span>
-ruin, whether for ever or not none of us can know.” Really
-there are hours when I am made quite to suffer by thinking of
-what is going to happen to my dear Middle-class when the
-People rise unanimously against it,—“roaring million-headed
-unreflecting, darkly suffering, darkly sinning ‘Demos’” (as
-Carlyle says again), “come to call its old superiors to account
-at its maddest of tribunals.” It will, I fear, be little good for
-the Mr. Caffyns of those times to write letters to the <i>Argus</i> of
-those times, explaining the physiological aspects of the movement.
-On such an occasion in Paris, in 1793, Mr. Caffyns
-went up into the arms of La Guillotine for much less heinous
-offences than that, and who would be left capable of recording
-whether, in this case, they went up “with a tripping movement”
-(as Mr. Caffyn tells us the fanatical “Hallelujah lasses”
-go), or whether they marched, as perhaps Mr. Caffyn himself
-marches to church or chapel every Sunday morning, to the
-edification of all beholders? But let us not think of such an
-appalling spectacle. Mr. Caffyn is still with us, and the <i>Argus</i>
-is still with us, and perhaps some morning we shall have some
-more brilliant letters on the physiological aspects of Mr.
-Caffyn’s friends, the hallelujah lasses.</p>
-
-<p>I cannot, I say, make myself angry with you, my dear
-Middle-class of England (and you might plausibly suggest that
-it would not matter much if I did), and how then shall I even
-frown at this Middle-class of Victoria, about whom (if Carlyle
-is right) I am more infatuate still? Does not the People
-breathe free in Australia? Are we not liberated here from
-that charming “Upper Ten Thousand” which monopolises the
-best of the bad education England has to offer, the Public
-Schools and the Universities? Is there not a hope that, now
-that the primary education of the People is progressing so
-satisfactorily, some of our young rising politicians, (or even
-some of the old ones), may bring home to us the fact that we
-want equally—nay, far more!—a secondary education for the
-Middle-class? so that Victoria may step forward as a competitor
-with the most universally civilized nation in the world,
-France, and teach England the unspeakable glory and advantage
-of (we should call it) an Upper-class, “homogeneous,
-intelligent, civilized, brought up in good public schools” (and
-not, as now, in more or less good, or more or less bad, denominational,
-and “private adventure” schools) “and on the first
-plane.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span></p>
-
-<p>If only this Upper-class of Victoria and of Australia generally
-could be brought to see it! If only it would confess its sins,
-many and heinous, against true civilization and be “converted”
-and lead a new life! Nothing, I think, strikes an Englishman
-more, coming out here, than the brightness and intelligence of
-the Victorian girls! (“Our daughters,” you know.) And
-how heart-rending to discover that all this brightness and intelligence
-is wasted on the mere accidents and incidents of
-every-day existence! Two-shilling novels are her idea of
-literature: “Some day” and “Ehren on the Rhine” her idea
-of music: the coloured illustrations of the illustrated papers,
-her idea of art. And her brother is in a worse state! The
-tortoise English girl is, after all, better than the Australian
-hare, and the young male bull-dog than the kangaroo.</p>
-
-<p>Everything cries out for the education, for the civilization, of
-the Upper-class, the ruling class. Educate it, civilize it, let it
-know what Truth is and what Beauty is, and abolish the bells
-and the brass-bands for ever! If the Upper-class is beautiful,
-its beauty will react on the Lower-class. Give us public
-schools for the Upper-class, as there are public schools for the
-Lower-class. Fight tooth and nail against any attempts after
-an “Upper Ten Thousand,” whether it be of land or of wealth.
-Keep clearly before us the ideal of an Upper-class that is
-<i>homogeneous</i>. Let us have the man of business as cultured as
-the professional man, and the professional man as cultured as
-the man of means. Let us be a true Republic, offering every
-opportunity to the intelligence of the Lower-class to attain to
-the culture of the Upper. Let us not have ten thousand
-aristocrats, but ten hundred thousand, ever more and more,
-and never less and less! On the other hand, let us learn from
-the People the great lesson which they have to teach us—the
-lesson of the language of the heart. Let us learn from them
-the softness of pity, yea and the richness of love. Let us give
-them our <i>Social Socialism</i> and let us take their <i>Religious</i>; for,
-in the perfect marriage of light and heat, is the perfect day, the
-true civilization, the beauty of the truth of Nature and of God.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><i>February, 1885.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="SYDNEY_AND_HER_CIVILIZATION">SYDNEY AND HER CIVILIZATION,
-AS THEY STRIKE AN ENGLISHMAN.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>It was in 1770 that Cook entered the bay to which he gave
-the name of Botany: in ’88 that Philip landed in Port Jackson
-with his convict settlement: in 1849 that the settlers refused
-to receive any more convicts: and in ’56 that the settlement
-was acknowledged as a colony and dowered with a constitution.
-These few facts have a very different significance to
-those which correspond to them in the history of Melbourne.
-The epithet phenomenal cannot be applied to the former in
-the same sense as to the latter; nor yet, let us hasten to add,
-the epithet premature. English people, who carry to a quite
-quaint degree their modern representative poet’s dislike of</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Raw Haste, half-sister to Delay,”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">find Melbourne “too American,” as they say, and reserve all
-their praise for “picturesque Sydney” and the harbour about
-whose description Mr. Trollope went (as we are all never likely
-to be able, at any rate in Sydney, to forget) into diffuse
-despair. “The business thoroughfares,” says a simple English
-traveller, “as well as the shops themselves, have a far more
-English appearance than those of the capital of Victoria,” and
-shuns all comment as superfluous. Let us not think of contradicting
-him. That elemental characteristic of the British
-architect, “the impotence to express anything,” is in no
-danger of disappearing in Sydney, nor yet, let us again hasten
-to add, in Melbourne; but, if it be possible to distinguish the
-matter thus, I should say that in Sydney he had found his
-happy hunting-grounds, whereas in Melbourne he was just
-beginning to feel that there was a rival about.</p>
-
-<p>No, it is just where Sydney is <i>un</i>-English that she has charm.
-I do not now refer to her natural position, nor to her age—age
-which will tone down, and perhaps some day almost mellow,
-the masterpieces of even the British architect. I refer to those
-buildings in the town, few and far between enough, it is true,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span>
-in which the Sydney perception of its individual life has striven
-to express itself. The Sydney perception of its individual life
-is not strong. As a local guide-book puts it more particularly,
-“in the nomenclature of the streets Sydney shows intense
-loyalty, and the lover of history will be delighted by the
-associations which some of the names will summon to his
-memory. For instance, his historical predilections will be
-gratified in noticing that the principal street is named after
-George the Third, during whose reign the colony was
-founded.” Of course, when the local guide-book tells us that a
-thing is so, it <i>is</i> so; and when it says that our predilections,
-historical or otherwise, will be gratified and delighted, they <i>are</i>
-gratified and delighted. But these Sydney men and women,
-with their intense loyalty, or rather what the writer in the local
-guide-books means thereby, have not, what we called, the
-metropolitan look—have not the metropolitan feeling. Mr.
-Marcus Clarke, in the cleverest and also the most fantastic of
-his clever but often fantastic criticisms, “The Future Australian
-Race,” says boldly: “It is more than likely that what
-should be the Australian Empire will be cut in half by a line
-drawn through the centre of the continent.... All
-beneath this line will be a Republic, having the mean climate,
-and, in consequence, the development of Greece. The
-intellectual capital of the Republic will be in Victoria; the
-fashionable and luxurious capital on the shore of Sydney
-Harbour.” Then he adds that “the Australians will be a fretful,
-clever, perverse, irritable race,” showing us what, under all
-their superficial differences, the people of Victoria and of New
-South Wales have, he thinks, in common. I do not believe
-that the whole secret of the matter is here laid open before us.
-Mr. Marcus Clarke had an admirable acuteness of perception,
-but he was apt, having swiftly perceived one aspect of a thing,
-to write it down at once as <i>the</i> aspect without staying for a
-second or third look at the thing itself. The consequence is
-that he rarely reaches the whole secret of a thing: witness, for
-instance, his view of Christianity, (but Mr. Arnold notices
-how even a critic of Sainte-Beuve’s calibre was capable of
-illusion here), or of the significance of Gordon’s poetry, which
-I have spoken of elsewhere; and it is lamentable to think how
-much of this false tendency in him was due to the circumstance
-that he was a man of letters, and an Australian man of letters.
-I do not believe, I say, that, when he tells us that the really<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span>
-distinctive characteristic of Sydney is (for “will be” is only
-“is” unmaterialized) fashion and luxury, and Melbourne
-intellect, he has laid open before us the <i>whole</i> secret of the
-present tendencies of these cities, or yet when he sees them
-united with the common characteristics of fretfulness, cleverness,
-perverseness, irritability. But here, undoubtedly, is one
-aspect of the matter expressed admirably. The men and
-women of Sydney do not live so fast mentally as the men and
-women of Melbourne: they give more free play to their
-emotional passions. As we say, they “take things easier.” They
-cling to the past which Melbourne throws away: they consider
-the present, which Melbourne has very little time for. Their
-attachment to “the old country” is deeper; they have intense
-loyalty, as the writer in the local guide-book says. They are
-much more possessed by the affairs of Melbourne than Melbourne
-is about theirs. The <i>Sydney Morning Herald</i> and the
-<i>Sydney Mail</i> do not hold the same position in Melbourne as
-the <i>Argus</i> and the <i>Australasian</i> do in Sydney. The Sydney
-people are captious in their criticism on the younger capital,
-just as Boston is on New York: they talk about being
-“dragged at the chariot wheels of Victoria,” and asseverate
-that they will not endure it. Melbourne people criticise Sydney
-good-humouredly, and justly so, since in that aspect of them
-both, which people seem to think is alone worth criticising,
-Melbourne is undoubtedly far superior. Intellect in the
-modern world is the master: emotion is the handmaid.
-Or, to put it in another way, our best average work at present
-is being done in clear, nervous prose, while poetry is praised and
-left to starve. Science is a better paymaster than Art, and
-nearly all the best average intelligence of the world has turned
-to the rising, and from the setting, sun. And Melbourne, I
-say, Melbourne with her perception of movement, progress,
-conscious power, has out-stripped this Sydney, whose perception
-of her individual life is so weak that all she has to point to
-are her natural advantages, her age, and the meagre fact that
-her “business thoroughfares, as well as the shops themselves,
-have a far more English appearance than those of the capital of
-Victoria.” And yet, undoubtedly, Sydney has—or so it seems
-to me—a rich and rare possession of her own, and one which
-is worth as much as that of Melbourne, even as emotion is
-worth as much as intellect, as poetry is worth as much as prose.
-And there are, as we know, good judges who would change the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span>
-“as much” into “more.” I, however, who have no pretentions
-to be a good judge, and am, as an acute English critic of
-mine so aptly put it once, only “Whitman and water:” I must
-still cling to the belief that perfection is to be found, and only
-to be found, in the <i>union</i> of these two qualities—of emotion
-and intellect, of poetry and prose. Or, as I said the other day,<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>
-true science (which is essentially intellectual) and true faith
-(which is essentially emotional) are to be, as they must be,
-harmonies, eternal harmonies, the “perfect music” and “noble
-words” of truth.</p>
-
-<p>Well now, let us try and find out a little more definitely
-wherein these men and women of Sydney, these who have not
-the metropolitan look, the metropolitan feeling, show themselves,
-at any rate to the disinterested seeker after a really fine
-civilization, as the equals of our intellectual men and women of
-Melbourne. (“Intellectual,” we are agreed, is here used as
-meaning that spiritual quality which is opposed to emotional).
-First of all, however, let us examine this phrase of ours,
-metropolitan look, metropolitan feeling, for fear it should
-be nothing but a phrase, a mere catchword, and, as such,
-worthy only the places where sawdust is stored.</p>
-
-<p>Nothing is more certain than that our individual lives form,
-if not our faces, the expression of them. Our eyes and all the
-facial muscles are at the command of our natural inherited
-dispositions as modified by the circumstances of our lives.
-The average man who spends his days in the open air in companionship
-with the inanimate things about him, or in the
-settled intercourse of country life, married or single, will have
-a quite different look, a quite different <i>tone</i>, from the man
-whose days are passed in the brisk interchange of words and
-thoughts of the life of the city. And how much will this
-difference be accentuated by the fact that the city is a seat of
-large and intense ideas, that the very air is impregnated
-with the passionate thoughts, words, and acts of the whole
-civilized world! It is in such men that we find the metropolitan
-look, the metropolitan feeling. Their faces seem
-stripped of all useless flesh like the body of an athlete:
-their eyes are quick and clear, ready servants of the quick
-clear brain behind them. This is what we call the average
-intelligent man, the labourer of the past, the partner of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span>
-the present, the master of the future! Put this man, however,
-into a state of stress, intellectual or emotional, in his business
-or in his private life, and that fine nervous face of his will
-become lean and rigid, those quick clear eyes hard and naked.
-And, just as it is the pleasure of our civilization to see this
-man in the first stage, so is it the pain thereof to see him, alas
-too often, in the second. These are the most dread spectres
-that haunt metropolises: their anguish wrings the heart with
-an intensity, with an abidingness that the sight of mere misery
-brutal and degraded does not and cannot inspire us. London
-and New York swarm with such, and our miniature Australian
-intellectual capital, too, knows them only too well. They press
-the stamp of their struggle into the very brow of their city. It
-is they who bring home to us the lean and rigid, the hard and
-naked side of the best life of their city. While it is to their
-successful brothers that we owe what of us is phenomenal, it is
-to them, the unsuccessful, that we owe what of us is premature.
-They are the men who have formulated that exceeding bitter
-cry of “<i>Cruel London</i>.” Yes, London is cruel in this sense of
-the word, and so, to a less degree (In a hundred years shall
-we be able to say this?) is Melbourne. I do not think anyone
-would call Sydney cruel.</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” retorts the metropolitan, “perhaps not; but, on the
-other hand, the provincial look, the dull look of intellectual
-death, is far more common with such towns than with us.
-For me, I would sooner have heaven with hell than purgatory
-by itself.—Pah,” he says, “Sydney is the city of smells
-and shopkeepers!” And I for my part, with all my admiration
-for the intellect of the average intelligent metropolitan in
-general and the Melbourne metropolitan in particular, should
-not think of contradicting him here. My only wish here is, as
-I have said, to find out wherein these people whom he calls,
-with such fine scorn, “provincials” and “shopkeepers,” show
-themselves his equals, and whether they <i>do</i> show themselves
-his equals, or that I shall stand convicted of a delusion on the
-subject.</p>
-
-<p>I believe much in first impressions (good ones, that is) provided
-only that we bring, what I have called, a second and
-third look to bear on the thing which has impressed us. And
-since I am graceless enough to speak of my own little private
-beliefs, let me add that I often find some difficulty in making
-my last impressions as good as my first, which is provoking to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span>
-anyone who has a dread and dislike of “impressionists” and
-an attraction and affection towards “students.” Hence I find
-myself quite ready, when in the latter humour, to call my first
-impressions shallow and careless, and when in the former, to
-call my last impressions dead-dark and pedantic, so that Mr.
-Marcus Clarke delights me not nor (some laborious scholar of
-the Australasian future) neither, and all is vanity and vexation
-of spirit! Let me, however, on this occasion retail my first
-impressions with a trustful pen, for, as they were unselfconscious
-and therefore unconnected with any theory on the
-subject in hand, I believe they are really the best offering I
-have to make on its altar.</p>
-
-<p>The first thing, then, that struck me on walking about
-Sydney one afternoon, looking at the place and the
-people, was the appalling strength of the British civilization.
-In Melbourne, for reasons spoken of elsewhere,
-this fact is not so striking. Melbourne, I have said, has
-something of London, Paris, New York, and of its own.
-The prevailing characteristic of Sydney is its Britishness—the
-happy hunting grounds of the British architect with
-his “impotence to express anything,” the intense and gratifying
-and delightful loyalty of the nomenclature of the streets, and
-the rest. Everywhere are the thumb marks and the great toe
-marks of the six-fingered six-toed giant, Mr. Arnold’s life-long
-foe, the British Philistine! I call this strength appalling; for
-observe that this is a country lying in a band of some five or
-six degrees south of the tropic of Capricorn, whereas England
-is a country lying in a band of some twenty-five or six degrees
-north of the corresponding tropic of Cancer, and yet here are
-the two peoples living lives almost identic! Rome changed
-her Jupiter into Ammon when the Tiber flowed into the Nile:
-Woden and the God of the Christians blended into one
-another; but the Jehovah (or shall we say the Moloch?) of
-Puritanism, of Calvinism, is the same in Sydney as in London,
-in Melbourne as in Edinburgh! There is nothing like it, save
-in the history of that wonderful people which produced this
-God that is “a jealous God.” And further. These people in
-Sydney have clung, not only to the faith but to the very
-raiment of their giant. The same gloomy dresses, cumbrous
-on the women, hideous on the men, that we see in England!
-Now in Melbourne, where those dear “old-country” days,
-wherein spring, summer, autumn, and winter alternate with a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span>
-fifth season excruciatingly peculiar to the place itself, are not
-infrequent; in Melbourne, I say, an attachment to the very
-tricks of one of the worst climates in the world might not be
-so unnatural; but in Sydney such an attachment becomes
-positively monstrous. The same food, the same overeating
-and overdrinking, and (observe how careful we are) at the
-same hours! If there is one thing, I believe, that the people
-of Sydney really grudge to Melbourne, it is her factories. If
-they could only make the atmosphere of Sydney (they do
-their best, however, with their steamers for the harbour) as
-supremely filthy as that of London, Birmingham, Manchester,
-Glasgow, the people, the intensely loyal people of Sydney,
-would be happy. As it is, they have reluctantly to concede a
-point in favour of, what the newspapers call, “her younger
-rival.” And yet how can I say this in the face of their
-eminently successful pollution of their harbour and their very
-streets with their drainage?</p>
-
-<p>It is no wonder, then, we see, that, unlike Melbourne,
-Sydney’s perception of her individual life is weak, miserably
-weak, all but imperceptible. She has to point to her natural
-advantages and her age. Now it is very nice to have a fine
-harbour, and Mr. Trollope is in his grave and we may safely
-say that he had a profuse literary talent, like many writers who
-lived before and many who will live after him; but the chief
-point of interest in the harbour, at any rate to your disinterested
-enquirer into the present and future social state of
-the owners, is, <i>what effect does it, and the climate generally, have
-upon them?</i> not whether Mr. Trollope or anyone else “despairs
-of being able to convey to any reader his own idea of the
-beauty” of either. Now we all know what effect the “sabbath
-rest” has on the Middle class and People of England, and we
-all know how zealously all those “pious and simple-minded”
-people who, as Dr. Moorhouse puts it so well, live “entrenched
-in the old fortifications of unintelligent orthodoxy,” are striving
-that that effect should not be in any way lessened—striving,
-not only in London but in Melbourne, and, so far, with considerable
-success in both. But here in Sydney, where, at first
-sight, one would least expect it, they are more liberal in these
-matters: their public institutions, Museums, Picture Gallery,
-and so on, are thrown open to the public on sundays.<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> No<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span>
-neighbouring town, so far as I know, partakes in the virtuous
-hatred of Geelong to sunday boats. The harbour is plied by
-a large number of small steamboats. The Middle-class and
-the People, thanks to the short hours of work (hence in large
-part Australia’s excellence in sports) and the saturday half-holiday,
-can disport themselves on its banks or where they
-please. “Our harbour,” then, and <i>our parks</i> too, are of more
-real use than merely, as they say, to blow about; and so far, so
-good. Pleasure, that light fair Pleasure which should find its
-natural home in every fine climate, is undoubtedly drawing
-breath in the Sydney air. Mr. Marcus Clarke’s acuteness of
-perception did not deceive him when he followed up this
-pallid plant into the full-grown tree with its flower and
-fruit of fashion and luxury. Yes, climate will ultimately
-work a transformation upon even the six-fingered six-toed
-giant. Moloch’s fire will cease to burn and brand: Jehovah’s
-jealousy will lose its harshness, and the sweet bright love
-of the White Christ will brood over and temper the
-hearts of this people to beauty and melody. Meantime,
-down there in Melbourne, Pleasure when it opens its mouth
-to breathe, will also open it to bite: the taint of cruelty will
-be upon it as it is upon all things purely intellectual, all things
-in which emotion has no part. “Melbourne,” the wise
-man of Sydney will say then, “Melbourne is the city of stew-pans
-and stockbrokers. They know how to make money, but
-not how to spend it. If they have pleasure, it borders on pain
-as lust does on love. All the beauty they know is the beauty
-of light; heat is a stranger to them. Their music lacks the
-minor keys. Years ago their one poet, Gordon, ran away
-from the city, and took refuge in the bush: if he were alive
-now, he would come to Sydney. No poet, no painter, no
-musician will be brought forth out of Melbourne.—You will
-make fine logicians, you Melbournians, and it does a man’s heart
-good to think of your cog-wheels; but believe me that you
-know no more of life than that it is an existence, or of death
-than that it is the stopping of a mouse-wheel.” Thus our
-problematical “provincial,” returning fine pity for the fine
-scorn of our problematical “metropolitan.” Or, to drop the
-symbolism, thus my first impressions of the actual or inherent
-melody and beauty of the Sydney life, as evolved from my last
-impressions of the leanness and rigidness, the hardness and
-nakedness that is to be found so easily in life in Melbourne.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span></p>
-
-<p>More than once that afternoon did this melody of beauty
-come back to me wandering, like a sweet far-off chime. It is
-years since I heard that chime, the chime of Pleasure light and
-fair, breathing around me—years ago, in its imperial haunt of
-Paris. Other chimes have their several melodies and beauties,
-melodies and beauties perhaps above compare with this one,
-but this one is pre-eminent for sweetness, and sweetness is a
-rich and rare offering to the soul. The afternoon was not a
-fine one, and I had just been spending two months in peerless
-weather by the Riverina. I had, then, no meteorological
-“pathetic fallacy,” as Mr. Ruskin says, to help me to a
-thoughtless faith in the actual or inherent melody of Sydney.
-On the contrary, the rain rained, and the wind blew, and the
-bursts of sunshine were few and far between, so that the
-Genius of the place had to speak out if he wished to be heard.
-And, as we have noticed, he did speak out, and was heard,
-and was, and is, approved of.</p>
-
-<p>Pass now from the outer public world into the inner: pass
-from the parks and streets into the Picture Gallery, and think
-of a similar passage in Melbourne. It is quite useless to
-murmur here, “<i>Melbourne</i>—<i>movement</i>—<i>progress</i>—<i>conscious
-power</i>;” the words only pass into a dry tuneless jingle, like
-Gordon at his worst, wherein nothing can be heard but, “<i>Leanness
-and rigidness</i>—<i>hardness and nakedness</i>.” We see the
-throng of the virtuous wives of the Bourke Street tradespeople
-and of “our wealthy lower orders” moving about in that
-badly constructed room, with its badly chosen and badly hung
-pictures. We think of the low, low ebb at which the intellect
-of the metropolis has left its sense of melody and beauty. We
-wonder what Adelaide Ironsides, whom Mr. Brunton Stephens
-has told us of in some charming verses,<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> would have made of
-that people, of that city, whose capacity to foster poetic
-instinct was “gauged” with such grimness by Mr. Clarke.<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span>
-And then we turn to this room, this people, and this city, and
-the fatuity of their intense loyalty seems a venial offence beside
-the arid barrenness of their intellectual neighbours. Such a
-construction (and, alas, not a merely temporary but a quite
-everlasting one) as the Melbourne Picture and Sculpture
-Galleries, such a choice, such an arrangement of pictures and
-statues, would not satisfy these men and women of Sydney, as
-it does the virtuous wives of the Bourke Street tradespeople and
-of “our wealthy lower orders.” I do not say that the <i>Morning
-Herald</i> would burst out into correspondence on the subject,
-nor yet that that company of eminent men who legislate for an
-ungrateful country would speak with scorn or pity of these
-things. The chime of melody and beauty here is, if sweet, far
-off. Pleasure light and fair is as yet but drawing breath. The
-outer public life and the inner are but feeling their way to a
-perception of an individuality, to an individuality that seeks
-after that form of happiness whose chief expression is in
-melody and beauty. But in Melbourne there is nothing, or
-scarcely anything, of this. If no one would think of calling
-Sydney cruel, neither would anyone think of calling Melbourne
-sweet. The average intelligent man in Melbourne
-worships at the master-shrine alone: Intellect is his god,
-Intellect with its speech of clear nervous prose and its poetry
-of vigorous, if rather meretricious metres and “galloping
-rymes.” He has no, or very little, care for Art as Art: that is
-an affair for women, and, as the only organised female public
-opinion is that of the virtuous tradeswoman and the wife of the
-wealthy lower orders, spiritual leanness and rigidness, hardness
-and nakedness are the popular product of the day.</p>
-
-<p>Now there is, I will venture to say, not one social
-phenomenon, good or evil, in Victoria and New South Wales
-that cannot be traced to these their spiritual conditions which
-I have been trying to express. Let us take, what I have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span>
-called, the three vital questions of the day—Free Trade—Federalism—Higher
-Education. New South Wales is in
-favour of Free Trade. Her perception of her individual life is
-weak: she clings to the past, she considers the present.
-Whereas Victoria—Victoria with her swarm of intelligent
-labourers and men of business—strong in her reliance on her
-intellect, resolutely turns to the future from which she thinks
-she will be able to carve out all her desires. Like America,
-she wants no help from without, she will brook no interference.
-She will not let her mineral products lie idle as New South
-Wales does. She is impatient of the true British characteristic,
-the slow patient evolution of things, the</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent8">“broadening down</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">From precedent to precedent.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">She believes in the modern scientific spirit, and in none
-other. “Let us, then,” she says, in her heart, “let us, then,
-by all means, move towards Federalism. Union is strength.”
-But the eager grasping nature of her swarm of intelligent
-labourers will not let her see that the wisdom of her penny
-tariffs is but the foolishness of the pounds to come. New
-South Wales, on the other hand, is adverse to Federalism.
-She does not understand this modern scientific spirit—she
-dreads it, is jealous of it, and admires it! It is so self-reliant,
-so self-confident! And she, poor thing, is too much under
-the sway of the ancient historical spirit to perceive that there is
-also a modern historical spirit, and that it is good and at her
-doors. Hence her changeableness, hence her irresolution in
-the matter. Like her clever unscrupulous politician, Sir Henry
-Parkes, yesterday she wanted Federalism, to-day she does not:
-she will not be dragged at the chariot wheels of this dreadful
-modern scientific spirit which she does not understand, with
-Victoria shouting and cracking a stockwhip to urge on the
-horses faster and faster. Is she not the “Queen of the
-Pacific?” did not Governor Philip tell her she would be
-“the centre of the southern hemisphere—the brightest gem of
-the Southern Ocean?” and who shall say he counted her
-chickens before they were hatched?</p>
-
-<p>To the disinterested seeker, then, after a really fine civilization,
-it is hard to say which is the more painful sight—Victoria,
-with her resolute pursuit of a purely intellectual
-future, which must end in arid barrenness, or New South<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span>
-Wales with her fatuous attachment to the monstrous aspect of
-the past and present. Which, after all, is the better or the
-worse, illusion or delusion? Is Victoria never going to
-perceive that logicians and engineers are not the highest
-product of civilization? Will New South Wales never shake
-off the British architect, spiritual and material, and begin to
-evolve an individual life of her own? Is Mr. Marcus Clarke
-right when he tells us that “in another hundred years the
-average Australasian will be a tall, coarse, strong-jawed, greedy,
-pushing, talented man, excelling in swimming and horsemanship.
-His religion will be a form of Presbyterianism, his
-national policy a democracy tempered by the rate of exchange.
-His wife will be a thin, narrow woman, very fond of dress and
-idleness, caring little for her children, but without sufficient
-brain-power to sin with zest.” Yes, this is indeed the future of
-the two tendencies, which are represented by the illuded
-progress of Victorian, the deluded stagnation of New South
-Wales. “<i>The virtuous tradeswoman and the wife of the wealthy
-lower orders, walking in the happy hunting-grounds of the
-British architect!</i>” What a picture! It is a satisfaction to
-think that, if it is to be, we shall never live to see it. But the
-question arises, “Is <i>it to be</i>?” Has not this acute perceiver of
-ours been once more writing down one aspect of the thing as
-<i>the</i> aspect, without staying for a second or third look at the
-thing itself? is not this a clever view of a part, but a fantastic
-view of the whole? has not Mr. Clarke, in a word, been leaving
-us this appalling picture of our future in much the same spirit
-as the world-wounded Hamlet left his cruel dowry to Ophelia?
-This, we are agreed, was indeed the future of the two tendencies,
-which are represented by the illuded progress of
-Victoria, the deluded stagnation of New South Wales; but we
-should add—<i>only if they are left to themselves</i>.</p>
-
-<p><i>Only if they are left to themselves</i>; and it is our hope, our
-trust that they will not be. We hope, we believe, that these
-two countries will learn from one another, each the lesson
-which the other will be competent to teach: that Victoria will
-awake to the vital importance of giving her Upper Class a
-Higher Education to correspond to the Elementary Education
-that she is giving her Lower Class, and that this Higher
-Education may be one filled with what we have called the
-modern historical spirit, with culture, with literary Culture: that
-New South Wales, leading and instructing Victoria here, having<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span>
-first learned from her example to have the courage to evolve an
-individual life of her own, will in her turn imbibe the modern
-scientific spirit, will imbibe what I may call scientific Culture;
-and thus we shall be brought on to the day in which the people
-of Victoria and New South Wales shall, from their superficial
-differences, be united by common qualities better than those of
-fretfulness, cleverness, perverseness, irritability: For in this
-people lies the possibility of a really fine civilization, in the
-marriage in them of emotion and intellect, of poetry and
-prose.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Is the goal so far away?</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">Far, how far no tongue can say.</div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>Let us dream our dream to-day.</i>”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>One last word on the last of the three vital questions of the
-day—Higher Education. When, on 1st April, Mr. Patterson,
-who presides over the Victorian Education Department, went
-down to Malmsbury to lay a foundation-stone for the Wesleyan
-denomination, and favoured us with his views on this question,
-or rather on the education system as it at present stands in
-Victoria, we had a hope (a faint hope) that he would do something
-more than sing the praises of the denominational schools
-in general, and the state schools (“those majestic monuments
-to enlightenment,” as he says in his profuse political way, “that
-adorn and bless even the remotest portions of this colony”)—the
-state schools in particular. Our hope was destined to disappointment.
-Mr. Patterson had something to say about “the
-only legitimate checks on the abuse of political power when
-conferred upon the masses,” and about “the unscrupulousness,
-as well as the boldness beyond reason” of that man who
-“would deny that the rising Australians, for sobriety and
-unassuming intelligence, would compare favourably with
-the old stock,” so that he “was bound to record his conviction
-that the future of Australia would be quite safe in the
-hands of the Australians.” He had also ready a defence of the
-secular character of the teaching in the state schools, and
-some nice little left-handed compliments for our good Wesleyans,
-<i>et hoc genus omne</i>, but not a word, and apparently not a
-thought, for the legitimate checks on “the abuses of <i>educational</i>
-power when conferred” on a middle-class as unprepared
-for rule as the worst education in the world can make it.
-“The Australian public,” he says, “desires, above all things,
-to ensure good citizenship.” The Australian public cares<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span>
-little that, in the state schools which it has founded for that
-especial purpose, dead dry intellectual knowledge is rampant—“that
-asinine feast of sow-thistles and brambles,” as Milton
-disgustedly puts it, “which is commonly set before our youth
-as all the food and entertainment of their tenderest and most
-docile age”—“inanimate mechanical gerund-grinding,” as
-Carlyle equally disgustedly called it—gerund-grinding and
-spiritual cockatoo screeching. Nor yet does it care that, in
-the denominational schools in which its own children are being
-brought up, the only supplement to the dead dry educational
-knowledge of the gerund and the cockatoo, is the merest flimsy
-smattering of Science caricatured and Literature misunderstood.
-Let us not, however, despair because our sucking
-colonial statesmen cannot see more than a few educational
-inches in front of their noses. Have we not got Dr. Moorhouse,
-our good Bishop of Melbourne, with us, “a mighty man
-with broad and sinewy hands?” And does he not, on every
-available opportunity, batter against the brazen walls of the
-gerund and the cockatoo, and bid them leave off grinding and
-screeching, and listen to reason? And here, too, is our good
-Roman Catholic Bishop of Sydney, Dr. Moran (whom we are
-all so sorry to think of losing), expressing his “fears that the
-atmosphere of the public schools is too chilly for a great many
-of our youth?” Perhaps one of these mornings the Victorian
-public will wake up, tired of listening to the chatter of the
-religious and secular dogmatists gathered together like eagles
-over the carcase of “Religion without Superstition,” and there
-may arise a curiosity and a care for Higher Education and
-High Schools; and we will hope, then, that no one will be
-foolish enough to say that they have been a very doubtful
-success in New South Wales and in Sydney—in Sydney, the
-home-elect of the six-fingered and six-toed giant of British
-Philistinism! And, perhaps, some day poor little Culture,
-putting off the cumbrous armour with which the gerund and
-the cockatoo want to load him, taking his sling in his hand and
-a few smooth stones from the brook, may smite great Goliath
-in the forehead, and cut off his head, and there be a signal
-rout of all the Philistines, even unto Gath and Gaza and the
-utmost borders of the land.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><i>May, 1885.</i></p>
-
-<p class="smaller">[<span class="smcap">Note.</span>—I am tempted to republish here a letter, which I sent lately to
-the <i>Sydney Morning Herald</i> wherein one aspect of the secondary education<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span>
-question was (more or less unconsciously) being discussed. No one, so
-far as I am aware, thought the letter worth serious consideration: at any
-rate no one thought it worth replying to, perhaps the reasons for its
-insertion were simply those which the “able Editor” assigned to me for the
-insertion of all his correspondence, namely that it be not either too illiterate
-or too offensive for publication. Well, I am sure that for my own part I
-am grateful for even so much toleration as this, and shall strive, as
-becomes my humble position in this great Australian press, to continue to
-deserve it.]</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p class="center">A RUGBY FOR NEW SOUTH WALES.</p>
-
-<p class="center">(<i>To the Editor of the Herald.</i>)</p>
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—In your issue of Saturday, May 9th, Mr. Edwin Bean,
-of All Saints’ College, Bathurst, brought under serious consideration
-the suggestion made by your correspondent “A. N.,”
-as regards what he called “A Rugby for New South Wales.”
-Anything that a schoolmaster of Mr. Bean’s talent and experience
-has to say must be interesting to those of us (alas, too
-few!) to whom the question of secondary education, whether
-in England or Australia, is a care. He will understand, then,
-that when I pass over, almost without notice, his criticisms on
-the individual aspects of the “reproduction” here “of that
-which is certainly best,” as he says, “in the English Public
-schools, viz., what is called the Public school spirit”—that the
-only reason of my doing so is the fear of encroaching too much
-on your “valuable space.” For, interesting as these criticisms
-are, the interest which lies in what I take to be the two real
-points at question here is, I must think, greater: these two
-points being (<i>1</i>), <i>the growing sense in all competent judges of
-discontent with the present condition of middle-class secondary
-education in Australia</i>; (<i>2</i>), <i>the means of ameliorating this
-condition</i>.</p>
-
-<p>As regards the first point, I must here almost take it for
-granted, in the face of the fact that, so far as I am aware,
-there is not a single colonial politician who seems to realise
-that if the education of the People, the rulers of the future, is
-of vital importance to us all, the education of the Middle-,
-or, as we should say now, the Upper-class, the rulers of
-the present, is of importance at least quite as vital. The
-mass of intelligent men here, then, or, as we are wont to
-say, the intelligent public, naturally enough, holds the same
-opinion about upper-class secondary education that their
-political representatives do. “It is all right,” they say.
-“What are you grumbling at in these ‘private adventure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span>
-schools,’ as you call them? They do well enough, we think,
-for us upper-class people; and if you want your son to have a
-really first-rate education, why, are there not plenty of fine
-Denominational schools about—the King’s School, Newington,
-and so on, and our splendid Grammar-school?” The only
-answer to “prophesyings” of this sort is, that the Upper-class,
-as a class, are, whatever they may think themselves, simply
-abominably educated; their education is, even when judged by
-its own miserable standard, superficial, incoherent, impalpable;
-and the sole necessary proof of this is, that a good three-quarters
-of the knowledge acquired by an average boy at an
-average private adventure school is of no subsequent use whatever
-to him, either in the culture of himself or in the prosecution
-of his business or trade. As for the best Denominational
-schools where a secondary education is to be obtained, if
-inadequate, at any rate much superior to that of the private
-adventure schools, these are out of the reach of the pockets of
-the average upper-class people, who, even if they appreciate
-this misfortune (which, as a rule, they do not), are unable to
-remedy it.</p>
-
-<p>Here, then, as it seems to me, lies the difficulty; and we
-have now to look at the solution which the apparent tendency
-of things is proffering to us. “If ‘A. N.,’” says Mr. Bean,
-“had resided in Victoria, he would have learnt that the Public
-schools (as they are there called) of Geelong and Melbourne
-are already taking something of the position, and aspiring to
-fulfil the functions, of the English public schools....
-And,” he goes on, “at Paramatta, Stanmore, Bathurst, Bowenfels,
-and elsewhere, there are already boarding-schools, not
-private, but belonging to Denominational corporations, which,
-if fostered by private assistance, will eventually grow into
-something resembling the Public schools of England.” Mr.
-Bean is, of course, right. If things progress in the way in
-which they are now progressing, if our colonial statesmen turn
-all their attention, and as much of ours as we will give them, <i>to</i>
-the education of the People, and <i>from</i> that of the Upper-class,
-then, I say, more and more will the Upper-class be thrown into
-the hands of schools which are mere private speculations, which
-are really under no control but that of personal caprice (and
-the personal caprice, great heavens! of what a stamp of intellectual
-and spiritual man), which, accordingly, provide an
-education, even when judged by its own miserable standard,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span>
-superficial, incoherent, impalpable. And these other schools,
-I say, the best Denominational and Corporation schools, the
-Australian Public schools of the future, will become more and
-more the educational monopoly of the professional and
-wealthy portion of the Upper-class, just as in England they
-have become that of the aristocracy and these portions of the
-Middle-class. These “<i>great schools</i>,” exclaims Mr. Bean justly
-of the English Public schools—“<i>which have done so much to
-form the character of the English gentleman</i>.” Of the English
-gentleman? Yes, and alas! of the English middle-class man,
-that terrible and pathetic being whom Mr. Arnold has taught
-us to know as the British Philistine. “I declare,” says General
-Gordon, the hero-elect of this very class, “I declare I think
-there is more happiness among these miserable (Soudan)
-blacks, who have not a meal from day to day, than among our
-middle-classes. The blacks are glad of a little handful of
-maize, and live in the greatest discomfort. They have not a
-strip to cover them; but you do not see them grunting and
-groaning all day long as we see scores and scores in England,
-with their wretched dinner-parties and attempts at gaiety where
-all is hollow and miserable.”</p>
-
-<p>What a future for the Upper-class, the by far largest class
-of Australia! What an appalling solution to an educational
-difficulty is this:—<i>A small class made up of our squatters,
-professional men, and wealthy tradesmen, forming a sort of intellectual
-and spiritual aristocracy; our Upper-class not only itself
-intellectually and spiritually dull and debased, but debasing and
-dulling all the better spirits which, in their social ascension, pass
-into it from the ranks of the People.</i> The thought of such a
-future to those of us to whom the progress onward and
-upward, whether of England or of Australia, is a care, is
-appalling, heartrending, unendurable! There is nothing that
-we could do, by the devotion of our powers, energies, and
-means, that we should not, would not, do to prevent it. And
-we should be, and are, encouraged in our struggle against it by
-the reflection that the real deep true spirit of the time is
-against all monopoly, practical and physical, intellectual and
-spiritual—that once the Upper-class, and after them the
-People, is aroused to the realisation of the fact that there is a
-danger here of the formation of a new aristocracy, an aristocracy
-which, with all its charm (let us suppose) of social
-manners and of intellectual and spiritual culture (and this is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span>
-supposing a very great deal), means nothing less than the
-materialisation, the dulling and the debasing, of everything
-beneath it—when the Upper-class and the People, I say, are
-aroused to the realisation of this, we may be sure that they will
-not rest till they have prevented it.</p>
-
-<p>And how, it is asked, is such a future to be prevented?
-how such a present to be ameliorated? By the formation,
-not of Denominational and Corporation schools at a charge
-which places them out of the reach of all save the richer
-among us, but by the formation of Public State schools that
-provide a secondary education as good, and, we will hope,
-better, than that of these others, and at a charge that is within
-the reach of the average upper-class people. “Yes, but,” at
-once is answered, “such schools already exist in the High
-schools, and they have not been a success.” I will not here
-contest, although I well might, the first assertion; but I
-cannot, if I would, contest the second. I began by noticing
-the cause of it, this general satisfaction of “the intelligent
-public” with the educational pabulum provided for its offspring.
-I deplore it; I hope for the day of its removal to the
-gulf of oblivion. In the meantime all that can be done is to
-strive to assist this “consummation devoutly to be desired”
-earnestly and perpetually.</p>
-
-<p>One word more. No one is more in sympathy (if I may be
-pardoned for speaking of such an unimportant entity) than <i>I</i>
-am, with the efforts of such men as “A. N.” and Mr. Edwin
-Bean to reproduce, or try to reproduce, in Australia as far as
-may be, “that which is certainly best in the English Public
-schools, viz., what is called the Public school spirit.” I have
-not the least prejudice against English Public schools, at one
-of the oldest and most conservative of which I was myself
-educated, and from which I almost entirely derived the circle
-of my most valued friends; nor yet against the Denominational
-and Corporation schools here. I have only to remark
-to Mr. Bean, what I am sure he will at once admit, that if the
-danger of State schools is the excessive interference of the
-State, the danger—nay, the absolute abuse—of endowed
-Public schools is that they become mere feeders of the universities;
-and in England to such an appalling extent was this
-the case that the State absolutely had to alter and narrow its
-Indian Civil Service examinations in order to bring them
-within reach of the Public schools, which were being quite left<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span>
-out in the cold! Doubtless, then, the Australian endowed
-Public schools would have their danger too, a danger which
-“even no less a thinker than Herbert Spencer,” as Mr. Bean
-says, has not perhaps, in the application to artificial civilization
-of the laws of the natural “struggle for existence and survival
-of the fittest,” quite comprehended.</p>
-
-<p>With all apologies to you for the amount of your “valuable
-space” on which I have encroached in even this far too perfunctory
-consideration of the matter in hand,</p>
-
-<p class="center">I am, etc.,</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>There is no one whose opinion on this question of
-secondary education is more worthy of our attention than that
-of Mr. Matthew Arnold. Our debt of gratitude to him for the
-general advancement of the Idea of Culture, not only at home,
-but everywhere where our language is spoken, is so great that
-we have begun to accept it almost as an impersonal fact. The
-work which he did long ago, and has never ceased to recapitulate,
-for the cause of middle-class secondary education, can only
-be appreciated by those whose attention has been turned to it
-more especially. This, I hope, will hold me excused to him
-for quoting here from a letter of his to me, some expressions of
-his, and the more so as they seem to show something like a
-modification of the view he has so far publicly enunciated.
-“I think,” he says, “I see signs that the education question is
-likely to present itself at no distant date in this wise: ‘Shall
-the majority give public money for any education except the
-education necessary for every citizen?’ The education necessary
-for every citizen will be somewhat extended in scope, but
-no account will be taken of the higher culture hitherto deemed
-necessary for a leisured and governing class, and to which so
-great a mass of endowment has been made to contribute. On
-the Continent of Europe a great change will be produced if
-this new view prevails, for the endowments have in general
-been seized by the State, and the State has directly subsidised
-secondary and superior instruction. In England it has not,
-but the endowments which these instructions enjoyed have
-been left to them. Probably they will not be taken away, but
-further public aid will hardly be given. Nor do I think it will
-be given in the Colonies; and as there the endowment of
-secondary and superior instruction is inconsiderable, these
-instructions will be, as they are now, at a great disadvantage.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span>
-The wealthiest people will send their sons to be educated in
-England; private schools will, of course, exist locally, but I do
-not think they will have influence enough to create a class and
-a power out of those they train. Society will thus be, on the
-whole, much more homogeneous than with the old nations of
-Europe; but, as in the United States, this condition of things
-will have its own dangers and drawbacks. The best way to
-meet them is for individuals to keep up a love of genuine
-culture in themselves, and so to create an even larger force in
-the nation to favour it.” Of the truth, or very probable truth,
-of the educational future here drawn out, there can, alas, be
-little question. M. Renan, whose work for France can well be
-paralleled with that of Mr. Arnold for us, takes an even
-gloomier view. We may count ourselves lucky, he says, if
-Democracy will consent, not to encourage, but to tolerate
-independent study. Democracy, he says, again, is the
-advent of universal mediocrity, of that most terrible of mediocrities,
-the aggressive. “Great qualities,” cried Empedocles,
-facing the same problem as we do,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Great qualities are trodden down,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">and littleness united</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">is become invincible.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">If this, then, is to be the case in Europe, what will it be in
-America, and still more in Australia? Aristocracies may not
-be ideal, but they have their use: they establish a certain high
-tone of social intercourse which is certainly valuable as one
-element in a really fine civilization; and, when they have
-passed away, it still lives as a tacit influence. France to-day,
-for instance, is a republic, but her outward manners, despite
-all that has happened, bear something of the mark of the
-Grand Siècle. England, again, is swinging away with heavy
-speed from her old ideal of Puritanism, and yet, as Mr. Arnold
-says so well, “the seriousness, solemness, and devout energy of
-Puritanism are a prize once won, never to be lost; they are a
-possession to our race for ever.” But America? but Australia?
-America is not leavened by Puritanism as England is,
-neither has she any hereditary tone of social intercourse to be
-compared with that of England, not to say of France. America
-must settle her own problem for herself, despite all the outer
-influence which is brought to bear on her: two hundred miles
-out from the Amazon mouth the water is still fresh, but it is
-salt at last. But consider this Australia where the Puritanism<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span>
-only began to operate when its sincerity was souring into cant,
-where the tone of social intercourse flourishes in the hands of
-those who attain to it as the imitation of an imitation! What
-can be so disastrous for Australia as the thrusting into power of
-a class of this sort, to be followed by a class which is to the
-first as the first is to its prototype in England? How this
-future presents itself has already been considered here. Mr.
-Marcus Clarke’s picture of it stands like a perpetual nightmare.
-What hope, then, remains to us except in that very “higher
-culture hitherto deemed necessary for a leisured and governing
-class,” which Mr. Arnold tells us our local private schools will
-not have influence enough to create as “a class and a power?”
-Is the only aristocracy possible to us to be, not a broad one
-like that of Athens, but a narrow one like that of Rome? We
-all know the picture Juvenal has painted of the decadence of
-this last, and Johnson’s application of it to the London of his
-time is not a memory altogether pleasant. “The lustre of a
-capital,” says M. Renan, with his eye on that of his own
-country, “springs from a vast provincial dung-heap, where
-millions of men lead an obscure life, in order to bring forth
-some brilliant butterflies which come to burn themselves in the
-light.” And if for capital we substitute plutocracy, and for
-butterflies creatures of a nature less savoury, we see something
-like the sort of future with which we are threatened here.
-Political life at present in Europe can scarcely be called noble,
-but here in Australia it is positively so base that there is a
-danger of its becoming the monopoly of men whose verbose
-incompetence is only equalled by their jovial corruption. The
-Plutocracy, such as it is, is being thrown in upon itself. Its
-present generation, it is true, is content to work—and, indeed,
-can find its only happiness in work; but this will not be so with
-the next, and still less with the third, generation. The desire
-to enjoy will grow into a lust, and this lust will spread. The
-end of this we know, and there will not lack writers to look
-back upon the present, even as so many of us look forward to
-the future, with a sort of eager envy. Well, and what is to be
-done to prevent this, if it is to be prevented? To cease from
-trying to obtain a secondary education for the Upper-class? to
-obtain Australian Rugbies, not only for the Plutocracy, but for
-the Upper-class, and for any one of the People that has the
-care to climb up to them and the best education which his age
-and country can afford him? to create a class and power that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span>
-shall, in their turn, create a really fine civilization?—are we to
-cease from all direct struggle for this, and meet the present
-crisis by simply trying “to keep up the love of genuine culture
-in ourselves, and so to create an ever larger force in the nation to
-favour it?” I cannot believe that this is so; I cannot even believe
-that, good way as it is, it is “the best way.” We have all been
-reading lately what Mr. Arnold had to say in favour of this
-indirect method, this creation of a Remnant that should at last
-become a power, and I am sure I should be the last person to
-say a word against it. All I have to say is, that I have too
-much belief in the power of institutions (a power “the benefits
-of which,” Mr. Arnold has just been telling us, “he had not
-properly appreciated” before his trip to America) to neglect
-anything that could bring them to the side of Culture. I
-appreciate the indirect method, and I believe that, in the long
-run, it is the method which gives permanent solidity, but I cannot
-blind myself to the immense importance of the direct
-method. If it is necessary to conduct a river into a city, the
-pipes must first be made, and care taken that they are not too
-small. The French Revolution was a violent attempt and a
-premature one, and yet, such as it was, it brought a greater
-volume of happiness into France than the abortive attempt that
-we made in England. <i>We</i> have still to face the problem of the
-happiness of the few and the debasement of the many, and I
-cannot see that it is an easier problem to resolve than that
-which is presenting itself to the French just at present. I
-still, then, must continue to believe that it is not wise in
-England, and how much more in America, and how much
-more in Australia, to refrain from the direct struggle for a higher
-education for our Upper-class. Our aim is not for the few but
-for the many, and not for elementary Culture for the many,
-but for the possibilities of a really fine Culture. We have, too,
-our distrust of Remnants. We dread their tendency to take to
-lotus-eating. They are apt to care so little for the propagation
-of either their species or their Culture.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Let us alone! What pleasure can we have</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">to war with evil? Is there any peace</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">in ever climbing up the climbing wave?”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">It is with difficulty, with great and perpetual difficulty, that a
-Goethe can keep his duty to his art and his duty to his neighbour
-at the perfect poise. It is so hard to keep your duty to
-yourself from running into your duty to your selfishness.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span>
-Light, and the love of light, and the love of bringing light to
-others, is after all impossible without a certain admixture of
-heat. Let us, then, still continue to nourish our enthusiasm
-for a direct purpose, which shall be the future to that great
-mass of average human beings who are thoughtlessly moulded
-by whatever they find is strong enough to mould them. Let
-us be jealous of individuals. “<i>Non Angli, sed angeli.</i>”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“<i>Leave not a human soul</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>to grow old in darkness and pain!</i>”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="right"><i>October, 1885.</i></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/deco3.jpg" width="400" height="350" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CULTURE">CULTURE.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Everyone nowadays has something to say about Culture.
-Even the politicians have heard of it, and some morning we
-may read in our newspapers that one of them is of opinion that
-there is some meaning in the term. Naturally enough we have
-all of us for some time been groping after the thing itself.
-The Time-Spirit is like a skilful driver of sheep. He may
-have considerable trouble with his flock, but, thanks to his
-unruffled intelligence and the ceaseless exertions of his dog
-Genius, he brings them all in in time for the market. It is
-now almost a century since the Idea of Culture took definite
-shape in the mind of a single man, and ever since then the
-number of its followers has kept on increasing, until at last
-everyone, as I remarked, has now something to say about it.
-If, however, one enquires of people, not what they <i>think</i> of
-Culture, (For everyone from the Vatican Œcumenical Council<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a>
-to the author of “In Memoriam”<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> is agreed as to the
-advantage of it), but what culture <i>is</i>, one may go far for a
-satisfactory answer. Women are growing dissatisfied with the
-sphere of their work. What is it that they need? “More
-breadth of culture,” answers the Prince of Tennyson’s Princess
-readily enough, “more breadth of culture!” And it will be
-said that it is easy to see that what the Prince means is, that
-women should have thrown open to them the education that
-has so far been the monopoly of men. But is this Culture?
-is this the whole truth about it?—simply the giving to the
-many—to women, to the Middle-class and to the People—what
-is the education of the few? would that man in whose
-mind the Idea of Culture first took definite shape have been
-satisfied with the sight of ubiquitous Harrows and Etons and
-Grammar Schools of Melbourne and Geelong? There can be
-no doubt but that such a sight would have pleased, but it
-certainly would not have satisfied him. “Schools,” he would
-have said, “are of high importance, but what is taught in them
-is of importance still higher.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span></p>
-
-<p>And so we come back again to our question as to what
-Culture <i>is</i> with a sense that the ready answers to it are only
-half answers. Now everyone has heard of Goethe, and everyone
-has read some of his writings—“Faust,” at any rate—and,
-as it is to Goethe that we owe the Idea of Culture (as indeed
-most things that are really good in the sphere of modern
-thought), it would be best to at once quote his own words on
-the matter, and see if we cannot find a definition, or at any
-rate a description, of Culture that shall satisfy us. Poetry, however,
-does not exactly lend itself to definitions of such things as
-this, or even to descriptions. In Faust himself the idea may
-be more or less, as they say, incarnated, but we plain practical
-people, who like things put as much in black and white as may
-be, have some difficulty in these matters, and would far rather
-hear of them in simple English prose which means what it says
-and says what it means, than in poetry (and particularly
-German poetry) which seems to us to do exactly the reverse.
-Well, then, let us turn away from this parabolic Goethe for a
-little, and see if we cannot find someone who shall be his
-expounder to us. And who else should this be, at any rate in
-this case, than he whom the newspapers like to call the Apostle
-of Culture, Mr. Matthew Arnold? Let us go to Mr. Matthew
-Arnold, and say: “Sir, you are constantly talking about
-Culture, and you have said many uncomplimentary things to
-us all about our want of it. Now would you be so kind as to
-tell us precisely what you <i>mean</i> by it? And we warn you that
-we are plain practical people who like things put as much in
-black and white as may be, and that we have a decidedly poor
-opinion of your efforts to make us believe that ‘the Eternal
-not ourselves that makes for righteousness’ is the same thing
-as our ‘loving and intelligent Governor of the Universe,’ and
-that it makes no difference to us when we eat our Christmas
-goose and plum-pudding whether we believe that we do so
-because those shepherds and those Three Kings <i>did</i> come that
-day to Christ in the Bethlehem manger, to the accompaniment
-of an angelic concert, or did not. We want, Sir, a definition
-of this Culture of yours, or, if you cannot give us that (But,
-really now, you are so clever at definitions that we shall be
-quite disappointed if you cannot!), then you must give us a
-good description of it, so that we may be able to arrive at
-a proper decision about it.” Then an expression of bland
-patience would cross Mr. Arnold’s countenance, as he sat in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span>
-his study chair, listening with that “native modesty” of which
-he has told us all, to the words of our curious foreman; and,
-after a short pause, he would perhaps answer: “Gentlemen, I
-am much honoured by this deputation and inquiry. Long ago
-in some remarks of mine on translating Homer.... But
-I will refer you to a more recent period. A new and revised
-edition of a little book of mine called ‘Literature and Dogma’
-has just been issued in a cheap form by Messrs. Smith, Elder
-and Co. You will find that in the Preface to it the following
-words occur, which I venture to think may, on investigation,
-be found to answer the question with which I am now
-honoured. But, as you possibly may not remember it, (for I
-cannot expect you, any more than myself, to be always studying
-my works), I will quote it to you. ‘<i>Culture</i>,’ I said (Culture
-in italics)—‘<i>Culture</i>, knowing the best that has been thought
-and known in the world.’ I can give no better definition than
-this. ‘True Culture,’ I say again, ‘true Culture implies not
-only knowledge, but right tact and justness of judgment,
-forming themselves by and with judgment.’ Or, yet again:
-‘Culture is <i>reading</i>’ (Reading in italics), ‘but reading with a
-purpose to guide it, and with system.’”—And with this, and a
-renewal of compliments on both sides, our jury bows itself out,
-and presently the sound of the closing hall-door mounts up to
-the silent chamber.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“But an awful pleasure bland</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">spreading o’er the Poet’s face,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">when the sound climbs near his seat,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">the encircled library sees;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">as he lets his lax right hand</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">which the lightnings doth embrace</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">sink upon his mighty knees.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>This, then, it seems, is Culture—<i>knowing the best that has
-been thought and known in the world—not only knowledge, but
-right tact and justness of judgment, forming themselves by and
-with judgment</i>—reading, <i>but reading with a purpose to guide it,
-and with system</i>. And is not this something like what Goethe
-meant in that enigmatic sentence of his, which we have heard
-so often quoted by people who understood it as much as we
-did: “Vom Halben zu entwöhnen; Im Ganzen, Guten, Schönen
-resolut zu leben.” “I resolved to wean myself from halves, and
-to live for the Whole, the Good, the Beautiful.” But even
-now, even now that we know what it is (And after all, we say,
-what much more is it than saying that we ought to try for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span>
-best article, and not rest content with anything but the best
-article?), wherein are we, we plain practical people with our
-attachment to black and white, helped to the attainment of it?
-Culture, we are told, is reading, but reading with a purpose to
-guide it and with system. The purpose, it is presumed, is
-attainment, but what is the system? We are to have knowledge,
-and not only knowledge but right tact and justness of
-judgment, forming themselves by and with judgment. All
-very nice, we say, but how are we to get them? You say to a
-man who hobbles, “Run:” he is quite as capable of saying it
-as you are. Either show him how to run, or hold your
-tongue!—unless it be that he thinks he <i>is</i> running, and even
-then it seems useless enough to undeceive him without you
-can teach him how to do what he now thinks he is. What,
-then, is this system of which you speak? what is the receipt
-for it? is it a system possible to <i>us</i>?</p>
-
-<p>Well, I really have not the courage to go and face Mr.
-Arnold again. Handlers of the lightnings like he is can be so
-disagreeable when they please. Where is the joy of figuring
-in some ludicrous or contemptible attitude in their writings for
-the next few hundred years or so? It is all very well to say
-that we shall all of us be in our graves presently, and all
-equally ignorant of what our descendants may think of us, but
-the truth is no one likes to be held up to the nations as a fool
-or a knave, and especially if he be both. I see nothing for it
-but to let the oracle alone. I for one will have nothing to do
-with stirring up Phoibos again. I have done so more than
-once already, and am too grateful for a whole hide to tempt
-the arrows further. We must be our own Oidipous. At most
-we can reverently finger the Sibylline leaves, and see if anything
-of “pleasant to the eye and good for food” can be
-extracted therefrom.</p>
-
-<p>To begin with, however, does it not seem best to say at
-once that, after all, there is no receipt for not saying
-and doing foolish things except not to be foolish? No
-system in the world will give wings to a worm. On the
-other hand, there is really no reason why the descendants
-of that worm should not one day navigate the sky; and,
-as a matter of fact, they do. Similarly with the stupidest
-and the most degraded of us, I cannot see why a single
-moment should be lost in attempting to better them. The
-earth is likely to be inhabitable for the next eight millions<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span>
-of years or so, it seems, and I am sure that is long enough for
-us. We need not be in such a hurry as the Socialists would
-have us, nor yet creep along on all fours in the Conservative
-manner; but we must not, of course, undervalue either fashion
-or progress, since both wheels and a drag are important parts
-of a carriage in uneven country. But here again, as is always
-the case, we are brought face to face with the question, not
-only of the wheels and the drag, not only of the carriage
-itself, and not only of even the driver of it, but of the end
-of the journey. “The purpose,” we said a moment ago
-in our ready way, “is, it is presumed, attainment, but what
-is the system?—Never mind,” we say, “about where we
-are going to: let us hear about the carriage we are going
-in! Let us have Etons and Harrows and Melbourne and
-Geelong Grammar Schools everywhere, and then we shall be
-alright. Let us resolve to have the best article, and not rest
-content with anything but the best article, and that’s all!”</p>
-
-<p>Alas, for the impatience of mankind! In order to <i>try</i> for
-the best article, not to say to <i>have</i> it, must we not first know
-what the best article <i>is</i>? should we not know where we are
-going to, before we construct our carriage and purchase our
-horses? And yet, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, are
-we not content to <i>go</i>, and leave more or less to chance where
-we are going <i>to</i>? do we not waste half our lives in overcoming
-difficulties with which we ought to have had nothing
-to do? It is so easy to talk and to act: it is so difficult to
-think, and mould your words and actions to your thoughts
-rather than your thoughts to your words and actions. It is the
-weary old tale of the more haste and the less speed, the weary
-old tale that is for ever new. And yet we will not listen to it.
-Sooner than trouble ourselves with the <i>whys</i> of things, we will
-throw ourselves with energy into the first <i>hows</i> that present
-themselves, and leave the rest to chance, or, as Dr. Moorhouse’s
-good “unintelligent orthodox” people say, to God. But nothing
-real, nothing lasting, is achieved in this way. Nature does not
-work in this way: God does not work in this way. The beasts
-do and the vast majority of men do, and that is why, in
-Hamlet’s words, life is such “an unweeded garden that grows
-to seed; things rank and gross in nature possess it merely.”
-No, if we are to understand, not only Culture but anything at
-all, we must begin at the very beginning: we must learn the
-<i>whys</i>. Take care of the <i>whys</i>, we might say, and the <i>hows</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span>
-will take care of themselves. And let us not for a moment be
-deceived by those who tell us that our fathers got along very
-well without inquiring into the <i>whys</i>, into the causes of things,
-and so can we. This is not so. Whatever success has been
-achieved has been achieved by a recognition, conscious or
-unconscious it may be, of the causes of the thing worked
-upon. Instead of our fathers having had any success from
-their ignorance of causes, or their reliance on good fortune,
-they have had success in despite in these, and only so far as they
-banished the one and knew how to turn to account the other.</p>
-
-<p>And Culture? what has this to do with Culture? Everything!—In
-this, as in so many other cases, we concentrate all
-our attention on the <i>how</i> and leave the <i>why</i> to take care of
-itself. “More breadth of Culture, more breadth of Culture,”
-cry the Princes and the Priests, and everyone else, in emulous
-chorus. But when they are asked what they <i>mean</i> by Culture—what
-Culture <i>is</i>, then they have no answer ready save one
-(as Shelley says),</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“pinnacled dim in the intense inane;”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">and this sort of thing will, in the end, satisfy no man.</p>
-
-<p>Well, we have heard what Culture <i>is—knowing the best that
-has been thought and known in the world</i>. But we have been
-brought up sharply at the very next step: <i>Culture is reading,
-but reading with a purpose to guide it</i>. What is the purpose?
-Attainment. Yes, but <i>how</i>? <i>how</i> and <i>why</i>?</p>
-
-<p>But before we try to answer that, let us think a moment
-whether the expounder of our parabolic Goethe has given us a
-definition that is quite satisfactory. We have nothing to say
-against his definition of Culture itself. It expresses Goethe’s
-“the Whole, the Good and the Beautiful” perfectly. But what
-about this second definition? what about Culture being reading,
-but reading with a purpose to guide it? Is this a pure
-parallel equivalent of the first, or has it something of a
-limitation in it? Can we, indeed (supposing us the happy
-possessors of a certain purpose and system), achieve a knowledge
-of the best that has been thought and known in the world—of
-the Whole, the Good and the Beautiful—by reading, and
-by reading only? is this what Goethe has to say to us? is
-this the lesson of Goethe’s life? If it is, why is it that he lays
-such stress on the absolute personal experience of things? If
-Faust could have achieved Truth in his study, why does<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span>
-Goethe show us his achievement of it by taking him away
-from his reading, and flinging him in the arms, first of Love
-and then of Life? Faust does not leave his reading and his
-thinking behind him: they accompany him everywhere, from
-Margarete’s bedroom to the witch-revel on the Brocken. And
-what does this mean but that, to achieve a knowledge of the
-best that the world has thought and known, two things are
-necessary—reading and experience; or, in the same words,
-thought and knowledge. No amount of reading will compensate
-for want of experience. It is useless for me to think I
-have attained to Truth, if I have never felt her absolute presence.
-Is idealization the essence of true love? Is there a more real
-inspiration to be found in the faëry princesses of Shelley, than
-in the breathing women of Wordsworth? Idealization is good,
-but it must have a firm foundation in reality, or it is barren of
-anything but fantasticality. So it is with thought and knowledge.
-No man who has not himself lived and loved can tell
-us the truth of love and life. Gibbon had immense reading, and
-a purpose and a system in it (I do not here enter upon their precise
-nature), and his history of the Decline and Fall of Rome
-is in many respects quite admirable, but he does not attain to
-truth in it. And why? Because he has not experience, he
-has not knowledge. All his reading, all his purpose, all his
-system will not compensate for the want of their corollary. No,
-Culture, the achieving of the best that has been thought in the
-world, is not reading, not reading with any purpose or system
-that has been or will ever be devised. Culture is the combination
-of reading with experience, of thought with knowledge.
-The one thing acts as a check on the other; the one is the
-spirit and the other the body; the one, in Shakspere’s words, the
-“judgment” and the other the “blood,” and in their “co-mingling”
-is found the perfect man. The purpose, the system
-remain unchanged. We have only, as it seems to me, to
-develop our second definition: to say that Culture <i>is reading
-and experience, but reading and experience with a purpose to
-guide them, and a system</i>.</p>
-
-<p>And so, having disposed somewhat of the <i>why</i>, we come
-back to the <i>how</i>, the purpose and the system. In reality the
-two are one. Mr. Arnold speaks once of Goethe’s “profound
-impartiality,” and elsewhere he lays the greatest
-stress on that which alone can help criticism “to produce
-fruit for the future”—<i>disinterestedness</i>. By <i>disinterestedness</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span>
-he means the sincere endeavour, the pure and simple
-endeavour, to get at the truth of things, to see them as
-they really are. And what is this but Goethe’s determination
-to “wean himself from halves,” from partial views of
-things? Now nothing is easier than to say that you seek for
-Truth and Truth only, and nothing is more difficult to do.
-Who is there that does not make this profession? And yet
-how few, how infinitely few, are those who turn it into practice!
-And why is this? The answer of course is because, say what
-they may, the pursuit of most men is merely relative. I no
-more attain to Truth by saying “Go to, I will attain to it,” than
-I should fly over the moon by a like formula. It is only the
-really honest and sincere, the really pure and simple endeavour
-to find Truth that makes me competent to even set out in
-search of it, and it is only by the ceaseless use of a system of
-resolute patience and clear-sightedness that I can hope to
-proceed with any success upon my way. This is indeed a hard
-saying; but who, except him who ought to feel it least, feels
-that Truth is a goal to be won by rose-crowned processions to
-the sound of cymbals and dances? Some people, indeed,
-have a conviction that a special exception has been made in
-their case, and that what has been hidden from the wise and
-prudent has been revealed to babes and sucklings; and I am
-sure it is a pleasant sight enough to see the way the babes and
-sucklings enjoy this idea, and will continue to do so as long
-as the milk lasts. (And, indeed, at this very hour when the milk
-is running rather low, what a dismal howl the poor little things
-are setting up, and how on earth are we ever going to wean
-them?) No, it is only by utter and unwearying honesty, by
-the obstinate determination to admit of no delusion or
-illusion, however attractive, however pleasant to our souls,
-that we can hope to attain to anything like Truth. How often,
-when we think we have found the jewel, must we put it down
-and remove ourselves, now to this side, now to that, to be sure
-that the cutting is indeed flawless! how much must we give
-up, and how much must we win, before our mind is trained to,
-as it were, of itself, effortlessly, spontaneously, look at things
-with that patient clear-sightedness which reaches to their
-essence! This, then, is our purpose in Culture, and this our
-system, and this is the fruit of it—a habit of thought which
-shall have <i>not only thought and knowledge, but right tact
-and justness of judgment, forming themselves by and with
-judgment</i>. And so our scheme is complete.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span></p>
-
-<p>Now, leave this theoretical consideration of it for a moment,
-and see with what result it has been applied to actual things.
-It has been applied, it is being applied, everywhere and to
-almost everything. Take the domain of Science, where it has,
-so far, been applied in a manner which appeals most to most
-people—practical success, as we call it. There is no need for
-me to sing the praises of this practical success. It rises all
-round me in choruses and peans and hosannas. What I want
-to say about it is, that all this practical success is due solely
-and entirely to the fact that its creators have applied that
-purpose and system of ours on, it is true, a more virgin soil
-than most, but also with a more thoroughness than any. Look
-at the patience and clear-sightedness that breathes and shines
-in every page Darwin wrote! It was well said of him, that
-you could be sure no one would state the case against anything
-he had to say more fully than he did himself. What a
-serenity the man had, what depths of power and peace! It
-was my privilege to have had for father one who, to his own
-depths of serenity, and power, and peace, added those drawn
-from his friendship with this great Darwin, and from an
-unrivalled appreciation of his work. When I think of that
-method of the pursuit of the truth of things which I have
-myself seen in the late Professor Leith Adams, my father, I seem
-to myself to despair of ever thoroughly mastering the reality of
-anything at all. I am overwhelmed with the mystery of
-Butters’ Spelling Book: I dare not lift up my eyes to criticise a
-barrel-organ, and the young lady so painfully practising scales
-there is a whole heaven above me. We cannot too much
-praise the complete singleness of heart and soul with which the
-Scientists have faced their problems. When I compare Lord
-Tennyson’s consideration of the Struggle in Nature in <i>In
-Memoriam</i>, with Darwin’s in his <i>Descent of Man</i>, the
-radical insincerity of the former, I confess, disgusts me, and I
-fear to do some one or other of its good qualities an injustice.
-What intellectual exercise all this despair is! The poet’s mind
-is made up before he starts, and all this paraphernalia of doubt
-is really simply to show that he can enter into the opposite
-point of view to his own, and yet retain his original convictions!
-What is the sum total of it? That here is a man of the past,
-born into a present from which none but those of the future
-can evolve that future. Five are five and ten are ten, and he
-adds them together and makes seven! With how different a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span>
-temper does Darwin face his problem! He has become “as a
-little child” in his simple attitude towards things. “Where’er
-thou leadest, will I follow thee.” And it was just because this
-was so, that what he had to say to us prevails more and more;
-for, having attained to the secret of the purpose and system of
-patience and clear-sightedness, he had not only knowledge but
-right tact and justness of judgment, forming themselves by
-and with judgment; and so he achieved Truth for himself
-and for others. Nor does the good of such a man, his life
-and his work, end here. He has communicated to all who
-have anything to do with his work, his secret or something of
-his secret, even as Goethe did before him. Why, here we have
-Professor Huxley warning the coming race of Scientists against
-taking for granted the very things in the discovery and revelation
-of which he has himself toiled all his life, and the cry has
-been taken up with enthusiasm. “All is possible,” said
-Professor Clifford, “to him who doubts.” What an admirable
-temper is this. Imagine Cardinal Newman warning the young
-Catholics against taking the Infallibility of the Church for
-granted! Or Lord Tennyson assuring us that that fine
-personal individuality theory of his (“I am I, thou art thou,”
-and so on) must not be considered by young Churchmen as
-finally settled! And yet it is in the possession or non-possession
-of this temper, I say, that lies the essential difference
-between the men of the past and the men of the future. Mr.
-Arnold laments that Cardinal Newman, “that exquisite and
-delicate genius,” was not born a little later, so that the Time-Spirit
-might have touched and transformed him. The same may
-be said of Lord Tennyson, and will be said in another fifty
-years. But let us have an end to such laments. To these men,
-as to their contemporaries, the light came, and they chose the
-twilight where others chose the dawn, and, having had their
-hour of victory in the applause of the mass of their time, the
-doubters and the believers, let us recognize that, at any rate as
-influences on thought, they are but ghosts in the bright daytime,
-speechless and ineffectual.</p>
-
-<p>I have, despite myself, been singing the praises of the
-Scientists. And why not? Have they not shown us that they
-have (as Darwin says so gracefully of Mr. Wallace) “an innate
-genius for solving difficulties?” But they, too, have their
-assailable side. I have spoken of Professor Clifford. His
-talent we were all bound to admire, and his sincerity; but how<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span>
-wonderfully inept he was when he came to consider things
-outside his own immediate sphere! We all remember what he
-had to say about Christianity. He had the same narrowness
-towards Christianity that the Christians have towards Science.
-In them it is excusable, perhaps. Circumstances have been
-all against them. They have had such little opportunity of
-attaining to the secret of the purpose and system of Culture.
-It has taken its rise outside their pale, and has been combated
-as a foe, and is still combated. But in a man who <i>had</i> this
-secret, how inexcusable the not being able to apply it outside
-his own immediate sphere! and how doubly inexcusable to
-apply to his opponents that very method which had made them
-so! Really he should have known better. And unfortunately
-there are so many of the young Scientists that are following in
-his footsteps, and not in the footsteps of Darwin. And this is
-a great misfortune, and should be struggled against with all our
-powers. But otherwise (since I cannot end here with the note
-of blame), how truly admirable is the temper of these men
-when they are only let alone in their own sphere! Compare
-the teaching of Science in our colleges and universities with
-that of Literature! And yet, slow as is the progress of
-Literature in its application of the purpose and system of
-Culture to things, it <i>is</i> a progress. The success of that
-charming series of biographies, the English Men of Letters—nay,
-of the little shilling Literature Primers—is a sign of
-it. And the same thing, too, is being done with regard to
-Philosophy; but, so far, the men of Science have the lead,
-and they deserve it; for, as I have said, theirs has
-been the most complete singleness of heart and soul with
-which Truth has been sought out, they have the most
-thoroughly applied the secret of the purpose and system of
-Culture.</p>
-
-<p>Now, let us again leave our consideration of these things,
-and see wherein this question of Culture concerns us plain
-practical people with our attachment to black and white; how
-does it, in a word, come into our daily life. I can only
-answer as before, everywhere!—The other day the son of a
-friend of mine, (say) Jones, wished to apprentice himself as a
-brewer, or, rather, wished to start as a brewer at once. His
-father sent him to a well-known brewer to be, as the father said,
-put through his paces. The young man returned crestfallen.
-What was the matter? The father could not understand it,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span>
-and I was set to find it out.—“<i>Tom hasn’t enough Culture</i>,” I
-reported.—“What do you mean?” asked the father.—“He
-doesn’t know the best that has been thought and known in the
-world in the matter of brewing,” I replied, “I should advise
-a course of practical chemistry.”—“But I’m sure X ..., the
-brewer’s father, didn’t know anything about chemistry, or his
-father before him.”—“Probably; but, if <i>X</i> ... didn’t, I
-expect he’d have to give up brewing,” I said. And it is the
-same in everything. More and more the perception that things
-move by fixed laws, which must be obeyed if we would direct
-ourselves with success, spreads and intensifies. The necessity
-of moulding our words and actions to our thoughts, rather than
-our thoughts to our words and actions, is becoming apparent
-to all men who would avoid the workhouse, actual or metaphorical.
-The <i>whys</i> of things press upon us. It is no use
-contenting ourselves with the <i>hows</i>. If we do, someone else
-finds out the <i>whys</i>, and we are left in the lurch. The other
-day an intelligent sheep-breeder told me an amusing tale. He
-had with much trouble and cost purchased in Tasmania a small
-stud of prize sheep, which he took up to his station in the
-North. The flower of the first generation he sent to a neighbouring
-show. The wool of the sheep was thick and close,
-unlike that of the locky sheep which are considered the best
-there. His sheep was laughed at by all the judges, who
-wondered such a sensible man should have sent such a senseless
-sheep! These judges were deficient in Culture: they did
-not know the best that has been thought and known in the
-world in the matter of sheep-breeding. The sheep of these
-men were shearing on an average less by more than two pounds
-of wool than the sheep of the more scientific sheep-breeders
-further south! It is a question, then, whether their children
-will be so jubilant when they are brought face to face with the
-competition of an enormously increased home wool-production,
-and a still more enormously increased wool-production from
-South America. You cannot now with impunity be wanting in
-Culture. The stream of life flows too fast for the straws that
-want to go exploring back-waters, or stopping to admire the
-scenery.</p>
-
-<p>And Australia—this Australia in which we live—what a need
-for Culture is here! I see nothing here of the best, and much
-of the worst. Take this very question of sheep-breeding.
-Australia is in advance of England, for sheep-breeding is the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span>
-staple support of the one country, and only an item in the
-produce of the other. But in what a backward state it is to
-what, as a staple support, it ought to be! By what rough and
-ready methods things are still done here. What a dearth of
-real intelligence there is! of that patience and clear-sightedness
-which is the secret of the purpose and system of Culture.
-Who seems to see that in this, as in all matters, the <i>why</i> is the
-important matter on which the <i>how</i> will follow, and not the
-reverse? There is abundance of shrewdness to hand, and
-finger and thumb wisdom, but who sees that the great
-necessity is sheer knowledge? Australia was made by men of
-this stamp, and they still rule it, but their rule is passing, as it
-was bound to pass, before the unruffled intelligence of the
-Time-Spirit. These were the men who gave us our absurd
-nomenclature of birds and flowers. If they saw a bird was
-black and had one dissonant cry, they called it a jay, and it
-sufficed. A flower is yellow and little: call it a primrose. And
-so on. Then their children arose in their turn, and found
-themselves rich, and took to building cities, and we have (what
-Mr. Sala calls) Marvellous Melbourne, with the Picture-gallery
-and Statue-gallery which we know, and the crowning
-glory of its Government House, perhaps the most hideous
-hospital in existence. Or the good Sydney people would like
-to decorate their Post-office with emblematic sculpture, and the
-result is, what has at last become, the mockery of a Continent.
-And at last, too, the Picture Gallery at Melbourne is coming
-into disrepute, and some day, perhaps, the Government House
-will do the same. It would be pleasant, I think, to see it
-turned into an asylum. No nation that calls itself civilized
-stands in more need of Culture, of the best that has been
-thought and known in the world, in each and every branch of
-it, than Australia does. Some faint perception of this seems
-positively to be beginning to dawn upon its complacency. Let
-us do all we can to forward this. “The Australians,” said an
-Australian to me the other day, “are much more fond of
-beautiful things than the English.” “Alas,” I answered,
-“that is not saying much, but I have not yet remarked it.”
-No, the one commendable wish that the Australians have, is
-that they really do want the best article in things, and for the
-best article they are ready to pay. The unfortunate thing is,
-that there seems nothing in which they are yet qualified to
-know the best article when they see it! “We want fine<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span>
-pictures,” say the Victorians, and they are befooled by
-ship-loads of London tea-trays, which no one but members of
-Assembly and the wives of tradespeople and squatters would
-take for anything else.—And yet, how is it possible for me to
-continue to pile up anathemas like this against these Australians
-for whom I hope so much, unless it be that I think in
-this way to do the little best I can towards helping to the
-realization of my hopes? But this is an old tale now, and we
-will say no more of it.</p>
-
-<p>In every aspect of life, then, from its highest to its lowest,
-let us remember this idea of Culture, let us make for the best
-article, and be secure in its possession. The other day a Melbourne
-lady was saying to me how pretty and charming a place
-the Fitzroy Gardens were as a public park. “But the brown
-plaster statues,” I said, “and the concrete water-shrines.”
-And this Melbourne lady frankly declared her allegiance to
-these things, and, when in my disagreeable unsatisfied way I
-began to compare them with the marble copies from the
-Antique which are to be seen in the Inner Domain and
-Botanical Gardens in Sydney, she frankly told me that <i>after all</i>
-it was only <i>a matter of opinion</i>, and <i>my</i> opinion was this and
-<i>hers</i> was that! “And so,” I said, “my dear lady, it is, <i>after
-all</i>, only <i>a matter of opinion</i> whether the Apollo of the Belvidere
-or the Venus of Milo is more beautiful or less beautiful
-than the statue of Burke and Wills in Collins Street, not to
-say the brown-plaster statues in the Fitzroy Gardens?” And
-then this Melbourne lady, who had read many novels and
-magazines, and several volumes of sermons and even popular
-“philosophy books,” maintained her original assertion with the
-charming assurance of her sex; and I could only think that it
-was a pity she had not Culture—did not know the best, or
-even the second or third best, of what has been known and
-thought in the world in the matter of sculptural beauty, for then
-she would not have helped to persuade her husband to vote for
-the erection of any more brown-plaster statues and concrete
-water-shrines in the public places of his city. But, as it is, I
-am so thankful that the Sydney people have decorated one of
-their public places with really fine marble copies from the
-Antique (which none of these Australians, with their superior
-love for beautiful things has yet, so far as I am aware, thought of
-defacing), that I wonder at myself for thinking of saying it is a
-pity to see beside these so many poor modern and perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span>
-colonial products; for who can be wise—do I say in an
-hour, in a day, in a year, in a life-time? nay, rather, in a
-generation? Certainly not the architects and public decorators
-of Australia. Let us be thankful for what we have
-got, and diligently go on showing our thankfulness by asking
-for more.</p>
-
-<p>But no; the time has passed when silly people can say that
-silliness is, <i>after all</i>, only a <i>matter of opinion</i>—or, if it has not
-passed, then we ought all of us to be striving our utmost to
-make it be passed. Culture is possible to so many! Its text-books
-are no longer in the hands of the incompetent: we have
-really no excuse for thinking Mr. Martin Tupper is preferable
-as a poet to Lord Tennyson, or Miss Eliza Cook to Mr.
-Arnold; and I will confess that I look with suspicion on the
-intellectual attainments of a man who sees no difference in the
-<i>opinion</i> of Darwin or Professor Huxley and of the popular
-Theologians and Mr. Lilly. Look, I say, at the text-books of
-Culture now, of the best which has been known and thought
-in the world. We have all seen Professor Huxley’s little primer
-of Physiology. Well, that is for Science. Then there is Mr.
-Stopford Brooke’s little primer of English Literature. That is
-for Literature; and these are only examples. Really, now, we
-<i>have</i> no excuse for reading the wrong books and thinking the
-wrong thoughts any more. And we have not, either, to
-confine ourselves to the thought of our own language. Everywhere
-excellent translations of noteworthy works are to be
-found. We would get to know something of the literature of
-Greece? At the end of Mr. Jebbs’ excellent little primer of
-Greek Literature, we shall find a list of the best translations.
-We have heard people talking of Professor Haeckel and his
-wonderful physiological work? Good translations of his best-known
-books are to hand. And so on throughout the whole
-domain of thought.</p>
-
-<p>Let us sum up and conclude. We see, then, I think, what
-Culture is, and what is the purpose and system which should
-form and guide it. There is only one thing more to say about
-it, and that is that Culture, in this sense of the word, is the
-distinct product of our own times. No other country at no
-other time possessed it. The Jews possessed an unrivalled
-insight into Religion, into the sense of Righteousness. It is to
-a Jew that we owe most of what is best in Religion. Indeed,
-to the great majority of us his name is still a synonyme for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span>
-Religion. But Righteousness is not the sole necessity of life—there
-is also Beauty. “Beauty,” says Keats,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“beauty is truth, truth beauty: this is all</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">ye know on earth or that ye need to know.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">But Keats, we remember, was a Pagan, a modern Greek, and
-men like this are quite as apt to think that Beauty is “the one
-thing needful” as the other stamp of man is to think that
-Righteousness is “the one thing needful;” whereas the real
-fact is that both are needful. What an advantage, then, have
-we over both Jews and Greeks in our appreciation of this! At
-the best, it is not possible to look upon either Paul or Plato as
-exponents of anything final. It requires two wings to soar
-with, and who can think that this “ugly little Jew,” as M.
-Renan has it, who talked nonsense about an Art which at
-best seemed to him mostly diabolical, was dowered with two?
-Nor yet can we think this of that “high Athenian gentleman,”
-as Carlyle retorts, with his illustrious Master who would have
-been so “terribly at ease in Zion.” Let us recognize it at
-once: the Jews are great and the Greeks are great, but neither
-of them by themselves can satisfy us. Nay, further; to the
-sense of Righteousness and Beauty must now be added that
-sense which Bacon first brought with any fertility to us—the
-sense of Science. “And we,” says Arnold,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“and we have been on many thousand lines,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">and we have shown, in each, spirit and power.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">And it is just from the combination of the results of our
-spirit and power on these many thousand lines that this
-Culture of ours, this unique product of our times, springs. It
-was not before this possible. How could Paul understand the
-Greek Art? how could Plato have understood the Hebrew
-Righteousness? It was not till the Renascence, till Shakspere,
-that such a thing was possible, and it was not till Modernity,
-till Goethe, that it was possible to find these two senses, the
-sense of Beauty and of Righteousness, united to that third
-great sense, the sense of Science. I do not say that our age
-is necessarily a peculiarly great age: you may call it the dwarf
-on the giant’s shoulders, if you please; but what I do say is,
-that it is the first age which has been able to attain to anything
-like a really comprehensive Culture, a knowledge of the best
-that has been known and thought in the world. Possibly
-we are only on the threshold of Truth: possibly it will be left
-to another age to work out and complete what we have but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span>
-begun; but this I think is certain: We <i>are</i> on the threshold,
-and the sooner we realize it, the sooner shall we realize that
-we are men in whom it is incumbent to put off childish
-things, the sooner shall we advance into the palace and very
-home.</p>
-
-<p>Ah, then, let us no longer content ourselves with anything less
-than the best article! Let us live for the Idea of Culture, for
-and by it—for the best that has been thought and known in
-the world! Let us, too, like Goethe, resolve to wean ourselves
-from halves, from partial and prejudiced views of
-things, and to live “<i>im Ganzen, Guten, Schönen</i>”—“for the
-Whole, the Good, the Beautiful!”</p>
-
-<p class="right"><i>December, 1885.</i></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/deco2.jpg" width="400" height="225" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="DAWNWARDS">“DAWNWARDS:”<br />
-<span class="smaller">AN AUSTRALIAN DIALOGUE.</span></h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<h3 id="DAWNWARDS_INTRO">INTRODUCTION.</h3>
-
-<p>Horace Gildea was the grandson of one of those self-reliant
-energetic men of the English upper Middle-class, who at an
-early period of life conceive a particular ambition, and devote
-themselves wholly to the successful achievement of it. Edward
-Gildea, the man in question, desired, or we may even say intended,
-to possess both wealth and position, and he was, as the
-expression goes, still young (between forty and fifty years of
-age, that is) when his intentions were fulfilled. A baronetcy
-was conferred on him by a grateful Conservative government:
-his marriage with the only daughter of Lord Mainwaring had
-already brought him a considerable amount of landed
-property; and now, having bought more, he retired from the
-troublous and busy world to the “easeful dignity” of the life
-of a rich and respected English country magnate. Our Aristocracy
-is adaptive (here, indeed, lies its strength, as compared,
-for instance, with that of France): it will enrol among its
-members of to-day an outgrowth of the Middle-class, upper and
-lower, professional or trading, with the same ready complacency
-with which it enrolled among its members of yesterday the
-offspring of some poor royal amour or other; and this is not
-surprising, when we perceive how little difference there is,
-intellectually speaking, between the three classes. The aristocratic
-ideal in England does not, or did not, soar much
-higher than grouse to shoot, land to shoot them on, and
-savoury cooking to eat them with; and the aristocratic ideal is,
-with slight modifications, the ideal of the country at large. In
-one generation the Gildeas were counted among, what is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span>
-called, the best people. The two sons of Sir Edward were
-educated at public schools and Oxford and Cambridge, and
-passed, the one into parliament, the other into the Diplomatic-service,
-where neither distinguished themselves. Horace
-Gildea, too, an only child, was sent to a public school and
-Oxford, and with the same result. At Oxford, however,
-although he did nothing more, educationally, than take his
-degree, he did not spend his time in mere amusement.
-Thanks to the friendship of Sir James Gwatkin, the well-known
-æsthetic critic, Gildea learned to appreciate the delights of that
-wonderful modern production which we call Culture. He had
-sufficient knowledge of Greek and Latin to enter into the
-spirit of their art and poetry, and he learned French, German,
-and Italian in the pleasant sexual manner prescribed by Byron.
-He travelled more or less all over Europe, “living and loving
-largely,” but (unlike Byron) saved from that excess whose
-inevitable fruit is satiety, by the talisman with which Sir James
-had dowered him. Gildea had, too, what the Romans called
-<i>curiositas</i>. The merely physical ideal of the English viveur
-did not satisfy him: he used to say that, if he was to be a
-blackguard, he should like to be a fine blackguard, and how
-can you be a fine blackguard if you know nothing but what
-can be known by any fool that can pay for it?</p>
-
-<p>Several years after the death of his father, Gildea, living a
-life of considerable enjoyment between the pleasures of the
-countries and the capitals of Europe, began to perceive that,
-after all, his talisman was not omnipotent: it could not lay, it
-could only distance, that ancient spectre which he now for the
-first time learned to face, if not to dread, Satiety. At this point,
-however, Fortune, whose child he seemed, came to the rescue:
-he fell in love. The best definition of love is, perhaps, the
-care of someone else more than yourself, and (the passionate
-would add) than anything. Gildea, then, did indeed fall in
-love; but as his care for himself or for anything was not very
-great, it cannot be said that he fell in love deeply. But
-Fortune, having given him a spell with which to once more
-distance the ancient spectre, now deserted him. The lady he
-loved did not love him in return: her friendship—and friendship
-from so sweet and passionate a nature as hers was of a
-somewhat intense character, partaking more of the warm sunlight
-than the clear moonlight—her friendship she eagerly gave
-to him, but her love was, past recall, given to someone else.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span>
-On the day on which he first realized this, Gildea, who had
-hoped otherwise, left England in his little yacht the “Petrel,”
-alone. He had intended visiting the east with her, returning by
-Naples, Rome, and Paris, with many sweet years, nomadic or
-otherwise, in the radiant future. Now he was quite careless
-where he went: for the first time in his life he knew what it
-was to feel miserable. The loss of this woman was a loss from
-himself. He felt a void in his soul, in his future. “And yet,”
-he used to tell himself, “she was not ‘the twin soul that
-halved my own:’ we should not have made perfect lovers,
-passionate, deep, abiding! None the less do I—or did I—long
-for her. She is the most beautiful soul I have yet seen,
-or probably shall ever see. Who would not straightway go and
-sell all that he had to possess her?—and willingly chance the
-rest!”</p>
-
-<p>A violent storm caught the “Petrel” as she was about halfway
-down the Bay of Biscay, and hurried her past Gibraltar.
-When Gildea perceived this, and was asked by his skipper if
-they should put back, he kept silence for a moment. Then,
-looking up with an amused smile, said:</p>
-
-<p>“No, Barry. We’ll go straight on to Madeira for provisions—from
-thence to St. Helena, and then double the Cape and
-make for Australia.”</p>
-
-<p>Gildea had not been to Australia: it was one of the few
-places in the world to which he had not been. He might, he
-thought now, as well go there as anywhere. Several things in
-Australia interested him, and this was enough reason to make
-him, in his present state, care to go.</p>
-
-<p>One bright, showery november afternoon, then, the “Petrel”
-passed Port Phillip Heads: was piloted up the harbour to
-Port Melbourne pier, and Gildea disembarked. He knew one
-person in Melbourne, and only one, Charles Maddock.
-Maddock, and his father before him, had been friends of the
-Gildea family. Maddock was some fifteen years older than
-Gildea, whom he had known well as a boy at Katharinasbury,
-he himself at that time being in the midst of his brilliant
-scholastic career at Cambridge. Almost immediately after his
-ordination, Maddock came out to a high ecclesiastical position in
-Australia. It had been the wish of his life to work in one of the
-Pacific Colonies, and now his wish was fulfilled. The appointment
-of one so young to the post he had at first held, had
-caused a little murmuring both at home and in the Colony, it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span>
-being known that he was possessed of the highest influence; but
-the murmuring had soon passed into pleasant greeting, and was
-now swelled to a regular chorus of applause from friends, foes,
-and indifferent alike. Maddock had great charm of manner:
-he was a more or less refined scholar, yet was not lacking in
-that spiritual robustness which goes so far to make up what is
-called a personality. It would not be too much to say that he
-was the most popular man in the colony. Society delighted in
-the gentleman: the outer world in the man, and both were
-right, for (here was the secret!) he sympathized with both.</p>
-
-<p>Gildea on his arrival took up his abode at an hotel until he
-saw rooms that pleased him, and began, after his fashion, to
-examine the city and its inhabitants. He went everywhere and
-saw everything, happy to find that his <i>curiositas</i> was not after
-all dead in him. Pleasure, in the sense of <i>living</i>, is in Melbourne
-but, what Tennyson says of the pleasure of London,
-“gross mud-honey,” and had not much attraction to one who
-had been through the best specimens thereof in London, Paris,
-New York, and Vienna. Gildea, however, if he did not go
-through it here, mingled with it as an amused half-spectator
-half-actor, seeking out its meaning as regards this dawning
-civilization which was interesting him just at present. He
-fell in with Sydney Medwin, a squatter’s son and ex-Cambridge
-undergraduate, whom he had known by repute as an inter-university
-runner and would-be rake, and they spent some
-pleasant days together. Medwin’s father wished him to take to
-station work, but Medwin, having tasted the “gross mud-honey”
-of London, Paris, and the Continent generally, was
-doggedly determined to do no such thing.</p>
-
-<p>“Damn it all,” he said once in his half-acute way to Gildea,
-“there’s quite enough money made already in the family, and
-now it’s time to spend it. If my governor had wanted me to
-look after sheep, he shouldn’t have sent me to Europe.”</p>
-
-<p>Europe was to Medwin—to Medwin held down by his
-inexorable “governor” to an allowance and a place in the home
-establishment—a sort of far-off beautiful dream which had
-once to a certain extent been his and, he feared, would never
-be his again. His life was reckless: he was knowingly doing
-his best to spoil a fine constitution by his excesses, and looked
-forward to death within ten or fifteen years with stupid stoicism.</p>
-
-<p>After a little Gildea thought that he would like to see something
-of colonial society, social and intellectual, and presented<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span>
-himself to Maddock. Maddock knew the Medwins well, and
-even Sydney Medwin who, in his unreflective way, had a great
-respect for him.</p>
-
-<p>“The governor,” Medwin said once to Gildea, “the
-governor has ruined my life! I had an ambition—I was
-<i>ambitious</i>; yes, I was <i>ambitious</i>! But I had to keep it dark!
-I can’t argue about it, you know: I haven’t thought for
-years, and now I can’t. But if Christianity’s good enough
-for Maddock, it’s good enough for me. I believe in Maddock.”</p>
-
-<p>Accordingly, whenever Maddock was to be met at the
-Medwins’, Sydney Medwin was to be seen listening attentively
-to everything the Doctor said, trying to think, trying to understand,
-the look of intelligence varying on his face with the look
-of puzzlement.</p>
-
-<p>“A fuddled intelligence,” said Gildea once, smiling and
-laughing; “now he’ll be off and get drunk with one of his
-girls at Dicks’.” (Dicks’ was a private hotel where “the set,”
-as Medwin and his friends called themselves, often met for the
-purposes of recreation.)</p>
-
-<p>Maddock was very pleased to meet Gildea again, and during
-the next month they saw much of each other. Gildea mingled
-with the Colonial society as he had mingled with the outer
-world, but with less interest. The Colonial outer world is at
-any rate original: it does not imitate, it <i>is</i>. Colonial society, on
-the other hand, imitates and imitates badly. It is a case of the
-new wine in the old bottles. The young people wish to break
-away from all the old social convenances and bien-séances:
-they have almost a contempt for the old people; but the old
-people rule, and their rule is as yet too strong to be openly disobeyed.
-The young people, therefore, lack social self-reliance:
-they have no distinctive “style” of their own as in America.
-“Indeed,” as Medwin used to say, “no one <i>has</i> any style out
-here, except the people at Government House.—And they,” he
-would add, admiringly, “look down upon us all as louts.” The
-young people, then, feel their ideas of happiness to be frail,
-immature: pleasure is not, as in the European capitals, provided
-for them; they must provide it for themselves. Pleasure,
-however, is their aim, and pleasure, so soon as they rule in
-their turn, they will have. The question is whether this
-pleasure is to be “mud-honey”—“mud-honey” with its grossness
-drained somewhat, but still “mud-honey”—or whether<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span>
-that wonderful modern production which we call Culture is
-going to intervene and complicate matters.</p>
-
-<p>Gildea soon wearied of a society in such a painful state of
-transition. Having arrived at these conclusions on its tendencies,
-or what he took to be its tendencies, the painfulness of
-it began to afflict him. At the same time his interest in the
-problem of this small social hot-house did not, somewhat to
-his surprise, show signs of leaving him.</p>
-
-<p>One evening, at a large ball, he had been dancing and
-talking with a singularly bright and intelligent girl, who had
-pleased him by herself expressing her consciousness of this
-state of social transition of theirs, and ascribing the true reasons
-for it. They sat out several dances together, he enjoying her
-talk as that of a clever child, she with her woman’s vanity
-pleased to be monopolizing the most distinguished man in the
-room, and also glad of his mental appreciation of her. He
-half lay in a low chair beside her, looking at her with smiling
-eyes and smiling lips, amused. She was a little excited, just
-enough to give extra brilliance to her words and acts. She was
-not speaking to him alone: she was aware of the audience of
-guests, all of whom, she felt, were noticing her, and some
-catching parts of the conversation. He, who read her soul as
-if it were transparent, became more and more amused as she
-proceeded, and by an occasional movement helped her out with
-the impression he saw she wished to give her friends, namely,
-that he was more or less entranced by her. The thought of
-taking her to Paris and introducing her to its society, of
-watching her intense capacities of social pleasure expanding
-there in their natural atmosphere, occurred to him and pleased
-him. He had arrived at that spiritual state when much of our
-pleasure is in watching the pleasure of other people.</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” he said at last, “and do you not find yourself
-lonely here, with all these wonderful ideas of yours, Miss
-Shepherd? All the other Melbourne young ladies do not,
-surely, participate in them?”</p>
-
-<p>She was not quite sure for a moment whether he was
-mocking at her or not; but, looking at his face, decided in the
-negative.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” she said, “I <i>am</i> lonely—rather. The other girls
-want to see things. They want to go to Europe—London,
-Paris, and all that. But they say it’s such a bother, and
-they’ve no memory. They don’t know <i>what</i> they want: they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span>
-only know that they don’t want what they’ve got.—But I—,”
-she added, turning to him, and catching her lower lip lightly
-with her pretty visible teeth, one hand on her knee closing
-slightly.</p>
-
-<p>“But you?”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>I</i> want to—<i>live</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>A pause.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah,” he said, “that means that some day you will want to
-die.”</p>
-
-<p>“I daresay! But I shall have lived <i>first</i>!—This Melbourne
-is just waking up. I wish, O I wish I had not come into it till
-it was awake!”</p>
-
-<p>“You would like to go to Paris, then?”</p>
-
-<p>“Paris!” (She stopped breathing.)—“O that,” she said,
-looking at him again, “is simply heaven!”</p>
-
-<p>“How do you know that, Miss Shepherd?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, I have read it! I have read all Alphonse Daudet’s
-novels, and a lot of Balzac’s.”</p>
-
-<p>As Gildea strolled through the warm night streets, smoking a
-cigar, he thought of her again for a moment, and laughed to
-himself.</p>
-
-<p>“The one Parisienne I have met out of Paris,” he said to
-himself, “She is of the tribe of the fine steel-pearl mangeuses
-who rend life with their dear little white teeth for the pleasure
-of rending. She should have been born in a concierge’s lodge,
-with a future in ermine—and the Morgue. And yet she is
-better than the mere mangeuse: she has intelligence. She has
-to thank Australia for that. For a month, or even two, she
-would be supportable—but the “Petrel” would take three to
-get her to Naples, perhaps, and it would be more trouble to
-loose her and let her go then than now.”</p>
-
-<p>He had been strolling about the streets for more than an
-hour. He was not quite sure where he was. He stopped for
-a moment to look about him. A short well-moulded figure in
-a close dress and a poke bonnet passed him and turned down a
-narrow street ten or twelve yards ahead. He threw away his
-cigar.</p>
-
-<p>“Janet,” he said to himself, “sweet child! And she recognized
-me and went on.”</p>
-
-<p>Janet, a Salvation Army “lass,” going down into the Little
-Bourke Street slums had indeed recognised him. The figure
-of a man, in a light overcoat open in front showing that he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span>
-was in evening dress, was remarkable enough, to have attracted
-anyone’s attention there. She had looked up for a moment:
-caught a glimpse of his face and, with a wild throbbing
-heart and quivering lips, hurried by, and on, and away.
-Gildea’s investigations into the social condition of the place
-had made him many unexpected friends. Here was one who
-was something more than a friend, a lover, and he knew it.</p>
-
-<p>“I am sick of it,” he said to himself, almost bitterly, “I
-will go away. I want change.”</p>
-
-<p>At about five o’clock that morning Sir Horace Gildea was
-rowed aboard of the “Petrel,” which passed out of the Heads
-a little after one, and turned to the east, making for Sydney.</p>
-
-<h3 id="DAWNWARDS_I">I.</h3>
-
-<p>It was about eleven o’clock in the morning of a day late in
-april. The sun shone with bright warmth, a fresh breeze
-blowing in from the sea. Great deep masses of cloud,
-luminous-white or here and there shaded with that slaty black
-which denotes incipient rain, were moving in the blue vault of
-the heavens. Gildea was descending the steps of the entrance
-to St. Mary’s Cathedral, accompanied by a young man of about
-his own age. At the foot of the steps they both paused.</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said Gildea with a look, “You will be at my rooms
-in time for lunch, you say?”</p>
-
-<p>The other nodded, and, in a few moments, saluting one
-another with a movement of the hand, they parted. The
-young man went with a quick firm step in the direction of St.
-James’ Church, while Gildea sauntered across the road into
-the Domain. He was thinking of the young man, Francis
-Fitzgerald, a young Jesuit whom he had met years ago at a
-seaside place in the south of France, and who, as he said, for
-the sake of his health, had come out on a voyage to Australia.</p>
-
-<p>“It is wonderful,” said Gildea to himself, “how quickly and
-thoroughly the religious bodies are waking up to the intellectual
-necessities of the time. Romans—Anglicans—Lutherans,
-and even Calvinists are sucking lustily at the two paps of the
-Modern Spirit which we call Science and Culture. It is the
-instinct of self-preservation. If they do not suck they will
-starve. But ah, how many of us are cross-tempered enough to
-prefer to starve rather than imbibe the milk of a cross-tempered
-mother!” He looked up with a fine smile, suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span>
-realizing his humour of thought. “I am quite serious,” he
-said to himself, the smile deepening and broadening, lighting
-up his face with amusement, “which shows how adaptive I
-am. Really now, I listened to Fitzgerald’s hopes and beliefs
-in the future of Romanism with quite as much interest as if I
-were a Romanist myself. I can quite conceive of myself
-taking very considerable pains to forward a cause in which
-somebody else believed. This surely was the central idea of
-my attachment to Olivia Bruce? I used to think I should be
-quite satisfied to live the life of a poet in that of my poetess?
-So far, this power of living your own life in the life of one
-you love has been a female gift. And indeed I have
-often thought that I should have been better as a woman. I
-can quite imagine myself as Lady Bellfield or d’Israeli’s
-delightful Berengaria; whereas now, I am but an aimless
-wanderer on the face of an aimless planet, a pilgrim without a
-shrine.”</p>
-
-<p>He walked on half-thoughtful half-amused, till he had
-crossed the Domain and found himself opposite the Picture
-Gallery and the Botanical Gardens. He entered the gardens,
-and was proceeding down one of the walks when, some fifteen
-yards before him, he beheld a well-known figure. It was
-Maddock, Maddock standing at the side of the walk, observing
-a plant through his pince-nez with serene interest. Gildea
-came up to him with pleasure.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah, Doctor,” he said, “you here! This is a surprise!”</p>
-
-<p>They shook hands: greeted one another, and exchanged
-health notes both of themselves and Mrs. Maddock, as they
-went on down the walk together, the Doctor rubbing his
-glasses with his silk handkerchief and keeping step.</p>
-
-<p>“The truth is, my dear fellow,” he said, his head up and
-moving from side to side as he drew into himself the enjoyment
-of the fine morning air and scene, “the truth is, I am
-here for a holiday—or rather, for half a holiday. Sydney is a
-favourite place of mine.—But,” he added in his humorous
-confidential way, “you know I don’t care for the <i>people</i>! They
-are not in earnest enough! I would sooner, I believe, have an
-earnest atheist than a lukewarm orthodox man. Isn’t it your
-friend Renan who says somewhere, that the atheist has an idea
-of things, a quite inadequate idea, it is true, but still an idea,
-whereas ‘the average sensual man’ has none?—or something
-to that effect.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span></p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Gildea, “he says so; and he adds elsewhere
-that ‘atheism is one sense the grossest of anthropomorphisms.
-The atheist sees justly that God does not act in this world
-after the manner of man; hence he concludes that he does not
-exist; he would believe if he beheld a miracle—in other
-words, if God acted as a finite force with a determinate object
-in view.’”</p>
-
-<p>“That is good,” said Maddock, “I did not give Renan
-credit for saying such a thing.”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said Gildea, “you have never got much further in
-Biblical criticism than the Germans. Strauss satisfies you as
-the great <i>Against</i>, and poor Westcott as the gigantic <i>For</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>They both laughed.</p>
-
-<p>“Come, come,” said Maddock, “you must not poke fun at
-me!”</p>
-
-<p>“It is impossible,” Gildea answered, “to poke fun at an
-ecclesiastic who calls Heine ‘a great poet and brilliant philosopher.’”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah, you have been reading my last polemic, I see?—Yes,
-you <i>must</i> have been reading it; for no newspaper man would
-ever think of quoting an opinion like that.”</p>
-
-<p>“I have been reading it with admiration and wonder: admiration
-at its excellence as polemical work, and wonder that
-you should take the trouble to castigate a production which
-you yourself declare to be, as a contribution to theological
-knowledge, utterly useless.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, but did I not explain myself? The book is fundamentally
-vicious. It confirms the shallow heterodox in their
-heterodoxy, the shallow orthodox in their orthodoxy. It gives
-forth light to no one and darkness to everyone. Progress in
-foolishness and stupidity, that is all that it signalises; the
-foolishness of ‘go-aheadism,’ the stupidity of re-action. I have
-no patience with a man of presumable intelligence who could
-write such a book.”</p>
-
-<p>“But do you not think that your attack on it will only, by
-bringing it into public notice, increase its powers of mischief?”</p>
-
-<p>“I hope not. I hope that I have sufficiently laid bare its
-gross ignorance of the subject of which it treats to bring it into
-that contempt whose fruit is oblivion.”</p>
-
-<p>“In England—in London or in any country or capital
-where there is a large intellectual life—this might be so. But
-am I not right, Doctor, in believing that this Victorian<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span>
-Melbourne of yours is a place where pure intellectual life
-scarcely exists? You have the mass of intelligent money-makers
-who care, or who do not care, for things (I will not say religious
-but) sectarian. Then there are those who care for things
-political; but where will you find any number of men who aim
-at making their life the purely intellectual life? They are all
-partizans here. When, therefore, you attack a Rationalist like
-Judge Parker, all the Rationalists rally round him, just as the
-orthodox rally round you; and the result is, as the <i>Argus</i> says,
-a boxing match, wherein the great thing is to at all price shout
-down their man and shout up your own. Truth turns away
-in disgust from such an exhibition of blind deaf bawling
-partizanary. These men are not of the sort that are open to
-reason: you cannot lay bare to such as these the gross
-ignorance or perfect science of their champion; they will only
-hiss or applaud as you blame or praise him. I may be wrong:
-my observation of your so-called intelligent public, is, you
-know, necessarily but small.”</p>
-
-<p>Maddock kept silence with rumpled brows. At last:</p>
-
-<p>“I do not know,” he said, “that you are not, after all, to a
-large degree right. We are very narrow here. A thing done
-in the street is done in the city, and indeed in the whole
-country!”</p>
-
-<p>“And am I not right in thinking that the only two native
-subjects, which are capable of arousing public interest and
-curiosity here, are those which appeal to the two portions of
-your mass of intelligent money-makers—things pertaining to
-business, and things sectarian?”</p>
-
-<p>The Doctor suddenly regained his humour.</p>
-
-<p>“Are,” he said, the deep humorous smile playing about his
-mouth, “are all the fashionable young men who come out here
-in yachts as acute observers as you, Sir Horace?—But I object
-to your word sectarian: you should say religious. I am quite
-ready to admit that (to put it as a Melbourne printer put it to
-me the other day) the only subject that will pay for book-printing
-here is Religion, and Religion, alas, in its polemical
-aspect. But I cannot look upon this, as you seem to do, as a
-great misfortune. I—I ... well, I may say <i>candidly</i>, that
-I rather <i>like</i> a bit of polemics now and then, and the shouts of
-the men round the ropes do not altogether disgust me, as of
-course” (his eyebrows went up) “they ought to do! No, I do
-not look upon that purely intellectual life of yours as by any<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span>
-means the ideal for us to aim at. It smacks too much of
-dilettantism for <i>me</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>Gildea smiled.</p>
-
-<p>“Dear Doctor,” he said, “we all know that you prefer a
-climate where the sky is not always a cloudless vault of blue
-insipidity. The sound and feel of a buffeting wind is pleasant
-to you. As I said just now, you prefer Strauss to Renan, and
-the good secular Saint Matthew Arnold finds small favour in
-your eyes. Now too that you are taking to science, I expect
-every day to hear you tell us Cuvier was a greater man than
-Darwin, and that Huxley is an impudent young amphioxus that
-has no place beside the dignity of our dear old behemoth,
-Owen.”</p>
-
-<p>“Now I really won’t let you poke fun at me,” said the
-Doctor, “I really won’t! The next thing is, that you will
-be saying something rude about Professor Mosley and his
-“Ruling Ideas in Early Ages,” and scoffing at my idea of
-having some of his essays reproduced in our <i>Daily Telegraph</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh no, Doctor, I will not do that. Even Mosley’s essays
-are better than the sermons of the local ecclesiastics.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are very impudent,” said Maddock, his face all beaming,
-“to call me a local ecclesiastic! I shall have to get you
-to write a pamphlet on my review of ‘Religionless Religion,’ so
-as to be able to denounce you <i>ex cathedra</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I should very much like to do so, only ... you
-know my cowardice: I cannot write——”</p>
-
-<p>“Even letters to your best friends, to explain that you have
-only gone off to sea at an hour’s notice, and are not, as they
-anxiously expected, drowned, or murdered and secreted in
-some hole in the slums.”</p>
-
-<p>“I prostrated myself in apology to Mrs. Maddock.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, in over a week! As for Dr. Maddock, of course
-such a casual acquaintance as <i>he</i> could not expect.... Ah,
-you are a quite too eccentric young man, Sir Horace! I wish
-you were well married, with a definite aim in life. Someday
-one of your wild freaks will end you, and then, what, what
-will have been the result of those great abilities with which
-God has gifted you?—Now,” proceeded the Doctor, “this is
-not an extract from the <i>Daily Telegraph</i> sermon corner, but
-only the expression of the affectionate anxiety of one who
-hopes you will allow him to call himself your true friend.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span></p>
-
-<p>Gildea kept silence for a moment. Talk of this sort only
-served to show him how completely his real inner view of
-things was unknown to his companion, and so the idea of
-making an answer did not occur to him: he felt how useless it
-would be. Then he genially thanked the Doctor for his
-friendship and its kind wishes, and added lightly:</p>
-
-<p>“You ask what will be the result of, as you are pleased to
-say, those great abilities with which God has gifted me. The
-result (you perceive it) will be nothing; but, Doctor, what, let
-me ask you, in a hundred years will be the result of those great
-abilities with which God has gifted <i>you</i>? In the hundred and
-first year we shall start equal; and I, who have not a belief in
-a personal God and a personal immortality as <i>you</i> have, find
-the whole matter, I confess, rather absurd! This would
-not probably have been so always. If I had lived in the days
-when action indeed contained the highest stakes of life, I
-should have played for them; but, as it is, the highest stakes
-now belong to the thinker, the writer, and I—I cannot write ...
-even letters! I, like all my contemporaries, am more or less
-under the sad dominion of the perception of, what Leopardi
-calls, the ‘infinita vanità del tutto,’ but, unlike the best of
-them, I have no care for the only immortality we have left, the
-immortality of Art or Science. I think of the hundred, or
-thousand, or million and first year, and find myself smiling.”</p>
-
-<p>Gildea was soliloquising, Maddock forgotten. He had, then,
-after all, drifted into making the answer, the idea of making
-which had, by reason of its clear uselessness, not occurred to
-him; and yet he had not made it to Maddock, but to himself.
-Maddock, indeed, did not altogether understand it, but the
-feeling of it, the belief that inspired it, he felt and hastened to
-reply to. He laid his hand gently on Gildea’s arm, bringing
-him to a pause, and said simply:</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Look!</i>”</p>
-
-<p>They had come down as far as Farm Cove—skirted it,
-turning off along Lady Macquarie’s Walk—then mounted up
-onto the drive, and, having passed by the Chair, were now
-standing on the brow of the slope with an open view of
-Garden Island (Clark Island being hidden), the harbour, and
-the woody hills behind it. Great deep masses of cloud,
-luminous-white or here and there shaded with that slaty black
-which denotes incipient rain, were moving in the blue vault of
-the heavens. Light and shade lay everywhere in alternate<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span>
-streaks or patches. One round piece of water to the left was
-like a burnished blazing mirror of steel. Other parts were
-blue, gray, or dark, reflecting the cloud-colours above them.
-The anchored ships rose and fell gently, their flags fluttering.
-A steamer came stealing out of one of the harbour arms into
-the open. The only sounds of life were the far-off hammer-strokes
-of the builders, the occasional cry of the white fleeting
-sea-gulls, the striking of a ship’s bells, the cricket humming at
-their feet.</p>
-
-<p>“And,” Maddock said, in his deep voice of earnestness, “in
-the face of such a scene as this—the free glory of nature so
-great and so glad, the wonderful toil and effort and happiness
-of mankind—you will say to yourself: ‘<i>There is no soul in me,
-for there is no God to give it!</i>’ Ah, my dear Sir Horace, you
-surprise and grieve me! Are you not—you, oh heavens, <i>you</i>!—at
-heart an atheist? are you not guilty of that grossest of
-anthropomorphisms yourself?”</p>
-
-<p>Gildea smiled, a fine sweet smile of sadness that made even
-the strong steady heart of his companion turn faint for a
-moment and sick. There was something so absolutely
-inevitably hopeless, as it seemed to Maddock, in this strange
-soul that he saw before him, now for the first time laid bare.
-Here was a patient for which the physician felt he had no
-power of healing or even alleviation. What view of christian
-faith and hope and love did not this strange soul know?
-Maddock, for the first time in his life, felt himself in the
-presence of one, the breadth and depth and height of whose
-spiritual experience encompassed him like an ocean. The
-words of remonstrance died on his lips: exhortation lay lifeless
-in him: silence and sorrow possessed him. He turned away
-with a heavy sigh, a sigh which was the unconscious acknowledgment
-to himself that life and death, time and eternity,
-man and God, could indeed be read in two diametrically
-different ways. For the first time in his life he realized the
-truth of “the Everlasting No” in a human soul greater than
-his own.</p>
-
-<p>They walked on together for a little in silence. Then
-Gildea said as simply and naturally as if nothing unusual had
-happened:</p>
-
-<p>“Now, Doctor, tell me will you come and have lunch with
-me? Mrs. Maddock, you say, has shaken you off for the
-sake of a long morning with Lady Whitfield, and why should<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span>
-you not retort on her spinster’s déjeuner with a bachelor’s
-lunch? I ought to have thought of it before.”</p>
-
-<p>The Doctor again suddenly regained his humour.</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you,” he said, “I shall be charmed.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nay,” said Gildea, smiling, “but I must bid you pause a
-moment, aimless dreamer that I am, and tell you who you will
-meet there. Perhaps you will want your assent back again.”</p>
-
-<p>“Speak on,” said Maddock, “and, provided it is not some
-one who will object to my smoking afterwards, I ... I don’t
-think I shall!”</p>
-
-<p>“The guests, then, are three in number. Firstly, James
-Alcock, who, they tell me, is the most secular and scientific
-member of all the Australian Legislative Assemblies——”</p>
-
-<p>“Go on,” said Maddock.</p>
-
-<p>“Doctor,” Gildea said, “he reads Haeckel and swears by
-no other prophet of Science. Pause before it is too late.
-They say too that he sleeps every saturday and sunday with
-Mill “On Liberty” under his pillow, and all Spencer’s
-“Principles” strewed about the counterpane. He knew my
-father years ago in England, and his heart warms towards
-me as towards an incipient disciple.”</p>
-
-<p>“Secondly—”</p>
-
-<p>“Secondly, Francis Fitzgerald, a young man learned with all
-the learning of the Egyptians; a pilgrim and devotee at that
-simple west-England shrine which holds the Catholic pearl
-beyond all price, John Henry Newman; a scholar of the
-Parisian seminaries; a pupil of the inner Jesuit circle—”</p>
-
-<p>“Thirdly—”</p>
-
-<p>“Frank Hawkesbury, the young Australian poet; a Socialist,
-delighting in Trades-Unions, Religious Revivals (the Salvation
-Army is a hobby of his), and Secular Organizations with a
-grand impartiality! Nay, it is even whispered that he had
-dealings with Holden and the Irish and Continental Nihilists
-two years ago in London. Our friend Mrs. Medwin almost
-fainted when Sydney Medwin asked her if she would care to
-know him.”</p>
-
-<p>“I have looked through one of the young man’s books of
-poems,” Maddock said, serenely, “and rather liked them.
-He is in earnest. Your lunch will be amusing.—It smacks
-to me,” he added, with a touch of grimness in his humour,
-“a little of those shows one sees now and then at the street-corners.
-They call them, I believe, happy families.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span></p>
-
-<p>Gildea laughed.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, Doctor,” he said, “but what if the animals should
-take to fighting? Alas, then, for the canaries and the mice,
-who will be worried and eaten by the dogs and the cats.”</p>
-
-<p>“Which are who, or who are which?”</p>
-
-<p>“Let us say that Alcock is a dog, and Fitzgerald a canary.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then <i>you</i>, I suppose, are the mouse and <i>I</i> the cat? But
-what is your young Australian poet to be? You have left him
-out.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, he will be a rabbit. You will see that he can
-burrow. It is the forte of Socialists, burrowing.—Now,”
-he proceeded, “we must go this way if we are to get to my
-rooms in time. And as we go, will you let me first express
-some tentative thoughts of mine, and then ask you a few
-questions about your friend Mr. Parker and yourself?”</p>
-
-<p>“Ask on,” said Maddock, getting into step, “and I will do
-my best to answer you.”</p>
-
-<h3 id="DAWNWARDS_II">II.</h3>
-
-<p>“It is about this little book of his,” Gildea said, with
-slow reflectiveness, “‘Religionless Religion.’ I found it interesting.”</p>
-
-<p>“Indeed?” said Maddock, “As interesting as the production
-of your dear continental sceptics?”</p>
-
-<p>“Well now,” Gildea said, in a tone that implied a certain
-amount of candour, “to tell, what the French call, the true
-truth, I was struck by several things both in it and in your
-reply to it. I thought that it would have been difficult to have
-found a more typical example of the average intelligent
-secular view of theological Christianity than that of our good
-Judge.”</p>
-
-<p>“I agree with you, and that was one of the reasons that
-made me decide to attack it. It is typical.”</p>
-
-<p>“And, therefore, to anyone who is, though only as an
-amateur, an observer of things contemporary, it is interesting.
-Its very deficiencies will be instructive. Well, what I want
-you to do, Doctor, if you will be so good, is to help me with
-your superior knowledge of the things treated of to arrive at
-the spiritual condition of the treater. Perhaps you will not
-find the attempt too uninteresting, or....” He paused with a
-movement of courtesy.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span></p>
-
-<p>Maddock, who had a faint suspicion that Gildea was
-mocking, half grumbled out humorously:</p>
-
-<p>“Go on, then! Qualify yourself as a psychologist, my dear
-fellow, and then we will have a plunge into social metaphysics.
-It is refreshing in a country where they are all partizans, and
-Matthew Arnold and the purely intellectual life are not
-appreciated. <i>Sic itur ad astra.</i> In the name of all the
-lucidities, forward!”</p>
-
-<p>“In the first place, then, we have to notice, have we not,
-that the little book is polemical, which, at any rate to the
-amateur observer of things contemporary, detracts somewhat
-from its historical value; for, after all, is not a polemist, to a
-large extent a man who defends the delusions of his friends
-against the delusions of his enemies, and leaves Truth, like the
-proverbial pounds, to look after herself? But, if we always
-remember to take off a percentage for the polemics, we need
-not miss what it is that the polemist really means and feels?”</p>
-
-<p>“Πως γαρ οὐ?” said Maddock.</p>
-
-<p>“And the more easily, as our Parker is in earnest about,
-what he calls, ‘his most serious and difficult task.’”</p>
-
-<p>“Forensic flourishes!”</p>
-
-<p>“—In earnest as far as suits the disposition of a theistic
-polemist.”</p>
-
-<p>“—Microscopically, that is to say. The lawyer’s, and
-especially the successful lawyer’s, habit of thought tends
-towards earnestness as the sparks fly downwards.”</p>
-
-<p>“For the average lawyer’s habit of thought is perhaps the
-most typical example of the average intelligent secular view of
-things. Is it not the final fruit of what is called common-sense,
-that is to say of the sense of common people? Our good
-Judge more than once speaks of himself and his audience as
-“persons of ordinary common-sense,” as opposed to “metaphysicians,”
-and especially “ecclesiastical metaphysicians.”
-He wants clear solid statements which his mind can see, and
-as it were, touch and handle. He scoffs at all statements other
-than these, looking upon them as at bottom sophistical. It
-follows that, when he comes to criticise the Bible, he claims
-the right to criticise it, not only with the same spirit, but with
-the same manner, as he would criticise any other book. He
-will not only look at it straight, fearlessly, logically, but he will
-demand of its statements that they be clear and solid, that they
-bear the ordinary interpretation of ordinary statements. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span>
-will apply the same principles of examination to Moses and
-Jesus as he would do to Blackstone or Chitty. And all the
-secular persons of ordinary common-sense cry out: ‘Hear,
-hear!’”</p>
-
-<p>“With the Judge,” said Maddock, “a metaphysician is a
-man who examines the Bible by the aid of principles other than
-those of one who is ignorant of all contemporary history save
-that which the Bible gives him.”</p>
-
-<p>“The consequence of which is, that he is capable of such
-a statement as, that ‘without question early Christianity was
-far more free from paganism and from the taint of superstition
-than the Christianity of our own time,’ and others of a
-like force.”</p>
-
-<p>“He has no notion whatever of the philosophy of history—of,
-what I call, the development of divine Truth.”</p>
-
-<p>“And yet he is contradictory enough, while asserting the
-degradation of the Christian ideal, to lay much stress on the
-development of Divine truth in a civilization that has, till
-comparatively lately, been Christianic. Yes, he sees the
-development of divine Truth, but he does not understand the
-forms which that development has taken in Christianity.
-The Trinity—the Atonement—the Deity of Christ—are to him
-‘mere crude superstitions which disfigure and obscure pure
-and true religion.’ It never seems to have occurred to him
-that, although these doctrines may be empty formulæ to him,
-they were and are passionate realities to others.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is very true.”</p>
-
-<p>“He will talk with the same ignorance of what he would
-call Jesuolatry as a Protestant will of what he calls Mariolatry,
-neither he nor the Protestant understanding any more of a deep
-spiritual truth than its cut-and-dried dogmatical letter.” The
-Doctor assented, though with a movement of slight qualification.</p>
-
-<p>“We agree at starting, then, that his criticism as that of an
-historical Bible student does not exist. The authorities he
-quotes are, as you point out in your Reply, ludicrous. They
-culminate in his poor little some ‘celebrated Unitarian
-minister’ or other, than whom the habit of thought of the
-legal Biblical critic can, it is to be hoped, no further go! He
-is too, we agree, careless and superficial even in his own style,
-but we must not lay too much stress on individual cases of this
-in the face of his request for ‘indulgence’ for his ‘doubtless
-many imperfections here.’”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span></p>
-
-<p>“When a man speaks publicly of such a grave matter as religion,”
-said Maddock, “he should <i>not</i> be careless, he should <i>not</i> be
-superficial! We have a right to demand of those who make explosives,
-that they, at any rate, do not smoke in the magazine.”</p>
-
-<p>“True; but, if we all got our deserts, who, you know,
-should escape whipping? Certainly not the producers of
-orthodox religious literature.”—(The Doctor, after a pause,
-assented as before).—“Well, we will proceed further against
-our good Judge, and say that his appreciation of what is, as he
-says, ‘good and ennobling’ is ludicrously inadequate. What can
-be said of a man who seriously speaks of Jesus, ‘when, in the
-garden of Gethsemane, he went apart and prayed, three times
-over, the same prayer to God, within a short period,’—of Jesus
-thus ‘<i>doing that which he told his disciples not to do—“use not
-vain</i> repetitions, <i>as the heathen do,” for the reason that your
-heavenly Father knoweth what things ye have need of</i> before <i>ye</i>
-ask <i>Him</i>.’ Habemus confitentem asinum! We can only burst
-out laughing: a reply to such a statement is impossible! The
-lawyer’s habit of thought is at its apogee, and (as Heine says)
-‘<i>Gegen die Dummheit kämpfen wir Götter selbst vergebens.</i>’—Against
-stupidity the very gods themselves struggle in vain.”
-The Doctor assented smiling.</p>
-
-<p>“And statements similar to this are not scarce here. Our
-good Judge, then, has not, it is clear, much experience of the
-spiritual life, of those who live in the spirit. The ‘sudden
-conversion of Paul,’ for instance, strikes him as one of the
-(it is supposed) ‘improbabilities so forcible that no sane
-<i>thinking</i> man or woman can accept’ the inspiration of the
-Scriptures which relate them. Now, any one who knows
-anything of human nature other than that of ‘persons of
-ordinary common-sense,’ knows that such ‘sudden conversions’
-are not only not improbable, but passably frequent.
-In some cases, as in that of Staniforth, quoted
-by Arnold in his ‘St. Paul and Protestantism,’ the circumstances
-approach so closely to those of Paul’s that we are
-enabled to assign to them a definite place in the science of
-psychology. Nor are our good Judge’s ‘errors,’ as you say,
-exhausted yet. We have still to bring against him the charge
-of, what Celsus calls, κουφοτης, and Arnold translates ‘want of
-intellectual seriousness.’ So confused and incoherent is his
-knowledge of the real position that the secular biblical critic
-takes up, that he absolutely calls the position taken up by the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span>
-orthodox biblical critic (that is to say, biblical <i>critics</i> who are
-orthodox; as, for instance, you yourself, my dear Doctor): he
-absolutely calls this position critically ‘untenable,’ not perceiving
-that it is his own only differing in degree!—This is
-simply appalling! The κουφοτης of the Secularists is not a
-whit better, after all, than that of the Christians!”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Maddock, disregarding the last remark, “but
-then you must remember that the Judge ‘does not intend to
-resort to any process of subtle argument, nor to make any
-display of scholastic knowledge, nor to indulge in learned disquisitions.’
-He merely writes ‘popular, clear, and simple’
-nonsense for ‘the doubter who is trying to grope his way to
-the light, but cannot; to the Atheist who believes in nothing,
-neither in a Supreme Power, nor in a future life.’ And your
-secular ingratitude to him, Sir Horace, strikes me, I must
-confess, as keener-toothed than the winter wind of orthodoxy!”</p>
-
-<p>“Doctor,” said Sir Horace, “you are poking fun at me!
-But I, who am, as Shelley said of himself ‘rather serious’—I
-proceed in my examination, whose sole confirmation as truth I
-find in your words or gestures of approval. You will, I hope,
-forgive me for any repetition I may make of your own criticism,
-as a master should a humble disciple? It is only a proof of
-attention and admiration.”</p>
-
-<p>“Go on,” said Maddock, “mocker!”</p>
-
-<p>“All these faults, then, which we have remarked in our good
-Judge—his polemically; his ignorance of the grammar (or,
-perhaps, as your Reply says, the alphabet) of historical
-criticism; his ludicrously inadequate conception of the good
-and the ennobling, of the spiritual calibre of such men as, for
-instance, St. Paul; his superficial acquaintance with the data of
-the subject of which it is treating; and, finally, his κουφοτης,
-his want of intellectual seriousness—all these faults, are we not
-agreed, are the faults of the average intelligent secular view, in
-its negative consideration of Christian Theology? The question
-that now arises is, has this view nothing but faults?—has
-it no excellencies? Does there remain, after the attack on it
-of so admirable a theological polemist as Dr. Maddock is, no
-residuum of real and vital truth? Let us try and see.—To
-begin with, did we not find that, despite a contradiction, our
-good Judge perceived the reality of, what you so finely call, the
-development of divine Truth?—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“<i>Yet I doubt not thro’ the ages one increasing purpose runs,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>and the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.</i>”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span></p>
-<p>“No,” said Maddock, “I cannot grant him even that! A
-faint glimmering of a thing cannot be called a perception.
-Consider this very contradiction of his! Consider, again, his
-unspeakably gross and ignorant treatment of the Old Testament
-which he brands with blood-thirstiness and impurity. He
-works by a rule of thumb. The higher spiritual mathematics
-are mere names to him. He is—I must declare—too much
-of a blockhead to ever rise beyond the spiritual Rule of
-Three.”</p>
-
-<p>“I agree to a large extent, dear Doctor; but you will
-admit, I think, that even the Rule of Three is not without its
-use, without its real and vital truth?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not when the schoolboy cannot use it properly! I have
-pointed out, for example, that, in attacking the doctrine of the
-Divine Sonship, he only attacks a dummy doctrine of his own.
-Your schoolboy does not know which of the three is his third
-quantity! He wants, then, to be whipped and put onto the
-dunce’s stool—to encourage the others!” The Doctor spoke
-for the first time with a little testiness.</p>
-
-<p>“Be it so,” Gildea said, “our good Judge is not to be
-allowed more than a faint glimmering of that fine theory of
-ours of the world’s unseen τελος. The ‘divine far-off event’ is
-not more than a fog-lamp to him, which he will not, then,
-mistake for the moon, or its light for moonshine. But that he
-is too much of a blockhead to even rise beyond the spiritual
-rule of thumb, the spiritual Rule of Three, seems to me, I
-confess, dear Doctor ... well, a rather strong statement.
-The average intelligent secular view of things is, is it not, less
-pedantic, less given to accepting the conventional value of
-things as their true value, than the average intelligent orthodox
-view? Are not, indeed, these tears a most convincing proof of
-it? Is it not just because our good Judge refuses, for instance,
-to accept the orthodox view of Jesus and of God that he wrote
-his little book, and you replied to it? Now the orthodox view
-of God is, if you will let me say so, excessively pedantic: it
-adheres to the expressions of a belief in which in its heart it
-does <i>not</i> believe at all. Parker’s criticism on this is excellent.
-‘It is impossible,’ he says, ‘to lay down any definition of God
-which will even satisfy man’s conception of God.’ What,
-then, is the good, he asks, of holding up this ‘magnified non-natural
-man’ of yours, and asking me to fall down and
-worship it? Common-sense revolts against such an idea and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span>
-common-sense, dear Doctor, is, will you not agree, for once
-right?”</p>
-
-<p>“You surprise me, Sir Horace,” said Maddock. “Are you
-too going to spend your time and trouble in demolishing the
-survivals of verbal inspiration?”</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly <i>not</i>! I am only trying to see wherein common-sense
-is a safe guide as a biblical critic. We are agreed, then,—you,
-that is, the Judge and I—that we must unite in
-opposing many of ‘the statements which,’ as the Judge says,
-‘the orthodox are pleased to call evidence.’ Because, for
-instance (to continue with the Judge’s own words), ‘the fallible
-man Paul says in a letter to Timothy that the Scriptures were
-inspired, it does not make them so.’ We are agreed here?”</p>
-
-<p>“We are agreed here,” said Maddock, with deliberation.</p>
-
-<p>“Or again, to take another instance, when Matthew and
-Luke, for whatever purpose, strive in their genealogical tables
-‘to give Jesus’ (I always use the Judge’s words) ‘a divine
-origin, conceived of a virgin by the Holy Ghost, and yet to
-connect him with David by making Joseph the natural father
-of Jesus.’—are we not here faced by two ideas which ‘no one
-short of an ecclesiastical metaphysician,’ or, as you say, a ‘very
-bad critic,’ would or could ‘reconcile?’—We are still agreed,
-of course.”</p>
-
-<p>“We are still agreed—to a certain extent.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nay, let us go further, then, and chime in with the Judge
-to the effect that ‘on far stronger evidence (if evidence it can
-be called) than that which supports’—let us say, almost all—‘of
-the events or miracles’ of the Scriptures, ‘the Roman
-Catholic Church propound to the world their miracles,’ which
-‘the Protestant section of Christianity reject as incredulous.’”</p>
-
-<p>“Proceed,” said Maddock.</p>
-
-<p>“Nay, let us go further still, and notice how we no longer
-look on the Genesis account of the Creation as more than
-allegory, of the Flood as being strictly accurate; of the tower
-of Babel as, again, more than allegory, and so on in many
-other similar cases. And how in the same way we do not look
-upon the statements of Christ, and after him of the author of
-the ‘Revelations,’ of the close approach of the Apocalypse, as
-literal but only figurative. ‘The statement of Jesus,’ as the
-Judge puts it, ‘as to his coming again before the then generation
-have passed away does not mean that he will so come:
-‘generation’ being merely used figuratively, but when he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span>
-does come he is still to come in the clouds of heaven, and with
-great glory, sounds of trumpets, rushings of winds, and mourning
-of tribes; for’ (Gildea paused)—‘all this has not yet been
-falsified by the event.’ This is, I think, undoubtedly the conclusion
-at which common sense arrives, but common sense is of
-course wrong.”</p>
-
-<p>“Common-sense is wrong,” said Maddock.</p>
-
-<p>“Common-sense too, as exemplified in this its typical blockhead
-who cannot ever rise beyond the spiritual Rule of thumb
-and Three; common-sense observes of the development of
-divine Truth, as exemplified in the Christian theology of
-yesterday and to-day, that its ‘golden rule apparently is to
-adopt those interpretations’ of its Scriptures ‘which best
-satisfy the exigency of the particular position of the time
-being,’ and thus we have no further guarantee that the God of
-to-day will be the God of to-morrow than that the God of
-yesterday is certainly not the God of to-day. ‘Heaven forgive
-me,’ exclaims ‘that great poet and brilliant philosopher,’ Heine,
-‘but I often feel as if the Mosaic God were but a reflected
-image of Moses himself.’ And we all remember with what
-contempt Taine speaks of this God of Christianity, revised and
-amended to suit the latest edition of scientific and historical
-discovery—rooted up out of the earth and momentary intercourse
-with man—driven out of the clouds and the occasional
-interposition of his strong right hand—spied and telescoped
-from the radiant bowers of the stars, and finally lodged out of
-sight, and all but out of mind, in the eternal infinitudes of
-Time and Space! After all, then, may not our good Judge
-have had, not of course a perception, but a faint glimmering,
-of sapience, when he spoke of the position taken up by the
-orthodox biblical criticism as critically ‘not only untenable,
-but absolutely suicidal?’ The thought is, as we agreed before,
-simply appalling. Spirits of Butler, Paley, Neander, Weiss,
-Westcott, Lightfoot, and many another mortal or immortal
-immortal, rise and thunder ‘<i>No!</i>’ When this exponent of
-the average secular intelligence declares that contemporary
-Theology is an impossible compromise between Reason and
-Absurdity; that the Protestant is quite inconsistent who with
-one face rejects ‘the events or miracles propounded by the
-Roman Catholic Church because they involve a violation or
-suspension of unvarying natural laws; because such things do
-not happen, and because <i>reason</i> refuses to give credence to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span>
-them,’ and with another face accepts as truth the sojourn of
-Jonah in the belly of some sea-monster (at present conveniently
-extinct, even to the bones), or the communications
-of, what Gordon describes as,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent18">‘that duffer at walls,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">the talkative roadster of Balaam:—’</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">rise, I say, and in Olympian accents demonstrate to him and
-his benighted audience, that these were but links ‘in the
-development of divine Truth,’ and that ‘one lesson at a time
-of this difficult kind was enough, and as history shows more
-than enough, for human weakness.’”</p>
-
-<p>“You are a treacherous and malicious young man,” said
-Maddock, laughing in spite of himself, “and have no right
-to quote my words in such an irreverent and grotesque
-manner!”</p>
-
-<p>“It is my orthodox ingratitude,” said Gildea, “—And yet,”
-he added suddenly, with a complete change of tone and
-manner, “in less than fifty years polemics like these will be
-looked upon as childish, and, those who spent their life and
-energy upon them, as we now look on the mediæval Schoolmen.
-It is a sad thought.”</p>
-
-<p>Maddock was a little puzzled at these swift chameleon
-changes in his friend.</p>
-
-<p>“And now,” said Gildea, looking up with yet another change
-of tone and manner, “and now we have done with the
-negative side of the good Judge’s criticism and can turn to
-the affirmative.—But that,” he added, “must, I am afraid, be
-after lunch—if you will, Doctor?”</p>
-
-<p>“I will,” said Maddock, “and you shall not then find me
-so passive, for your treachery and malice are now quite laid
-bare to me.”</p>
-
-<p>Gildea smiled.</p>
-
-<p>“But not my loyalty and admiration? Believe me, Doctor,
-that, if it were only for this one remark of yours, I could never
-fail in my interest and gratitude to you. ‘Our blackfellows,’
-you say, ‘had no punishment for offences against their elementary
-ideas of purity but spearing. <i>And it was infinitely better that
-they should spear for impurity than lose their first step towards
-a higher life.</i>’ ... But here we are,” he said, “This is the
-house. Fitzgerald and Hawkesbury have to leave us soon after
-lunch. Mrs. Medwin and her niece, Miss Medwin, are coming
-later to make tea for me, and then we are going out for a sail in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span>
-the yacht. Mr. Medwin is thinking of a legislative career, and
-so Alcock is to be cultivated. Can you come with us? You
-know how pleased it would make us all.”</p>
-
-<p>The Doctor explained that he was due at his hotel at half-past
-three to meet Mrs. Maddock, and both he and Gildea
-expressed their due regrets at his not being able to make one
-of the party on the yacht.</p>
-
-<h3 id="DAWNWARDS_III">III.</h3>
-
-<p>Gildea led the way upstairs and ushered Maddock into the
-sitting-room. It was in reality two rooms joined together by a
-large folding-door, which was now thrown open and draped
-with four looped-up curtains, two of some dark-red material
-behind two of delicately-wrought muslin. The two rooms were
-of the whole depth of the house, the large bay-windows, open
-and with a glass-door in the middle of them open also, at one
-end looking out over the city, at the other over the harbour. A
-grass-slope, and a garden with flower-beds and rustling trees,
-spread all round and down to the water’s edge; while, a little
-way out, the “Petrel” rode at peaceful anchorage, her boat
-behind her. Maddock was for the moment so taken up with the
-beauty of the place within and without—the room with all its
-harmonies of form and colour, the garden and harbour scene—that
-he did not notice that someone was standing, half hidden
-by the curtains, in the next room on the hearth-rug. Then
-Gildea passed through and greeted this person whom he
-brought forward and introduced to Maddock as Mr. Hawkesbury.</p>
-
-<p>Hawkesbury was a small but well-made man with a tendency
-to muscular leanness. His face was striking and interesting,
-and betrayed a strongly-defined individuality. At one moment
-he might have been called handsome, and his manner frank,
-free, and open: at another his features took such a contracted
-intensified look, and his movements were so nervously acute,
-that the whole man seemed to have suffered distortion. It
-seemed as if he were suddenly seized by some keen pain,
-spiritual and physical, and was being racked by it. When
-Gildea entered, there was for a moment a trace of this latter
-manner in Hawkesbury: his sensitive pride found something
-antagonistic in, what seemed to him, the consummate luxury
-which surrounded him and even in the consummate culture of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span>
-its owner: he was almost asking himself what right this man
-had to spend so much money and care in decorating a few
-rooms for a few months, this man whose life was so radically
-selfish? Hawkesbury’s was, he might have said, the feeling of
-one who was a socialist and worker by intense conviction,
-finding himself opposed to one who was an aristocrat and
-hedonist by the mere chance of birth and fortune. But, when
-Gildea met and greeted him with the frank sweet unconscious
-cordiality of an equal whose acquaintance is pleasant, the dark
-look passed from Hawkesbury’s face and he gave himself up
-to the simple pleasure of the situation. His unexpected introduction
-to Maddock, who represented to him the more or less
-sumptuous aristocrat of religion, for a moment, it is true,
-threatened to bring back the evil spirit to him; but Maddock,
-with his fine social tact, almost divining the state of affairs, was
-equally frank, sweet, unconscious and cordial in his manner,
-and Hawkesbury was at his ease.</p>
-
-<p>The three men stood talking together, Maddock in the
-middle, in the bay-window that looked out over the harbour.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, Sir Horace,” said Maddock, “you will never be
-able to get away from this enchanting place again! Are you
-sure you do not intend to make it into a home? You did not
-honour your Melbourne rooms with such care—such choice of
-furniture, and....” (He raised his arm and outspread hand,
-smiling humorously).</p>
-
-<p>“‘Man delights not me,’” answered Gildea, “‘No, nor
-woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.’”
-The smile broke out on Hawkesbury’s face too. It was
-soothing and very pleasant to find these two talking in his
-presence of such an intimate matter as that alluded to here:
-he was not accustomed, in the company of, what in Australia
-and even England goes by the name of, ladies and gentlemen
-to this complete absence of social and individual constraint.</p>
-
-<p>Then Edgar, Gildea’s valet, ushered in someone else, Mr.
-Fitzgerald, and there was a movement and introductions
-between Maddock, Hawkesbury, and the new-comer, the three
-being left alone for a moment while Gildea was giving some
-directions to Edgar about domestic arrangements.</p>
-
-<p>Maddock and Fitzgerald fell almost immediately into a conversation,
-Hawkesbury playing the part of silent member.
-The Doctor was interested in finding out what the impressions
-of a cultured Roman Catholic were of Australia and more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span>
-particularly of Victoria and New South Wales. He asked a
-few questions, the answer to which, he thought, would show
-him whether Fitzgerald had observed things with care and
-sympathy, and was answered with a gentle readiness that
-pleased and satisfied him. The two men felt themselves to a
-certain extent on common ground, and, Fitzgerald touching
-incidentally on the education question, they began to parallelise
-each other’s views with cordiality.</p>
-
-<p>“We quite recognise,” said Fitzgerald, “all the difficulties
-of the case—the danger of the unfair influence of catholic
-teaching over protestant children, or vice versa, just as each
-happens to be stronger in the particular place and school.
-But we would accept this danger—accept it, even supposing we
-were the losers by it—rather than have the present state of
-things continue. As our Archbishop said only the other day at
-Leichardt: ‘Besides the faculties of intellect and of reason,
-there are certain passions of the soul,’ and to develop the
-former and wholly neglect the latter is to send a boy out into
-the world with <i>only one eye</i>. You have prepared him for the
-temporary business of life, and unfitted him for the glorious
-service of eternity: you have given his ship fine sails, and forgotten
-to add a rudder! He may be an acute man of
-business, but he will be a bad citizen; for, in taking away from
-him his sense of religion, you will take away from him his
-sense of morality, of honesty, of integrity! We can, at the
-present stage, see for Australia no future save that of corruption—a
-corrupt political life, a corrupt national life, the unlimited
-worship of Mammon!”</p>
-
-<p>“I agree with you to a large extent,” said Maddock, “and
-we all know that, practically speaking, the talk about ‘religious
-education at home’ is mere verbiage. If the education of a
-child is secular, his spiritual lungs, so to speak, end in being
-able to inhale no other air and thrive on it.”</p>
-
-<p>“And,” Fitzgerald said, “the education <i>is</i> secular! Every
-effort is being made to drive the voluntary schools out of the
-field. Their state aid here in New South Wales is withdrawn:
-in England it is reduced to a pittance and hedged about with
-annoyance. And this, although the educational reports, drawn
-up by a secular commission, show that, at any rate the
-catholic schools educate on the average both better and more
-cheaply than the state-schools do! We only ask for fair play,
-and now it has come to this pass that we cannot get it! All<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span>
-over England the protestant voluntary schools are failing and
-disappearing. But we, we Catholics, who cannot, as Protestants
-do, console ourselves with the reflection that the atmosphere
-of the state-schools, if secular, will be tempered by that
-of our own beliefs—we <i>will</i> not fail and disappear! We are
-the poorest of all religious bodies in England; but I will
-venture to say, that not a single case can be found of a catholic
-school which has surrendered itself up, as these others did,
-into the hands of the Secularists. Our educating priests and
-laymen have to suffer much privation: I know, shall I say
-hundreds, of them who deny themselves all but the bare
-necessities of life; but—<i>we stand our ground</i>!... You
-see,” he added smiling gently, “we Catholics cannot labour
-under any delusion here. We recognize that this is a stupendous
-crisis in the world’s history. We will have no compromise
-and secular tempering of the wind to the shorn Christian. We
-will stand to our guns, and, if we must perish, perish there!”</p>
-
-<p>Maddock was impressed, and so even was Hawkesbury.
-This man’s enthusiasm was so quiet, so clear, and yet so
-radiant. Gildea returned and joined them.</p>
-
-<p>“We were speaking of the popular education,” said Fitzgerald,
-turning to him, “and I would persuade Dr. Maddock
-that his cause and ours are here identic.”</p>
-
-<p>“I need no persuading,” said Maddock, “I have for some
-time been persuading <i>myself</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>“And yet,” Fitzgerald put in gently, “the alliance between
-us and you seems farther off than between us and the Dissenters.”</p>
-
-<p>“And that, I think,” Gildea said, “is because you have more
-in common. You are afraid of one another. In the one case,
-you know that the frontier of your alliance will be observed, in
-the other there is a chance that it may not. At present the
-most dangerous opponents of Catholicism in England are, what
-they call, the High Churchmen. The Church of England is a
-compromise between Catholicism and Protestantism; hence
-its adaptiveness, hence its strength! It more nearly, in my
-opinion, approaches ideal Christianity than any other sect in
-existence. It unites the Faith, the Poetry, of Catholicism,
-with the Freedom, the Prose, of Protestantism.”</p>
-
-<p>“We thank you,” said Maddock.</p>
-
-<p>“Logically speaking, however,” added Gildea, “it is an
-absurdity.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span></p>
-
-<p>They all began to laugh.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah,” said Maddock, “I was right when, even while
-thanking you, Sir Horace, I thought to myself: <i>Timeo Danaos,
-et dona ferentes</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>“The Christianity of the Future,” Gildea proceeded gravely,
-“lies, I believe, in two transformations—in Catholicism learning
-that its kingdom is not of this world, that it no longer
-requires a Pope, a Rome, as a Palladium whereby it may
-fight; in a word, in learning the lesson of Protestantism, of
-Freedom: and in Protestantism doing the converse, and
-absorbing into itself the catholic Faith, the catholic Poetry!”</p>
-
-<p>“And what are the Secularists going to do in your Future?”
-asked Hawkesbury, “are Messrs. Arnold and Huxley to be
-put up on a shelf in your spiritual Museum, in two large spirit
-bottles, labelled respectively ‘Culture’ and ‘Science?’”</p>
-
-<p>“Culture,” answered Gildea, “is, after all, but Secular
-Catholicism, just as Science is but Secular Protestantism.
-They too will each learn their lesson of the other.”</p>
-
-<p>“Humph!” said Maddock, who again had a faint suspicion
-that Gildea was mocking, “and so, after all, Sir Horace is an
-optimist.”</p>
-
-<p>“We do not lay stress,” Fitzgerald said gently, “on the
-temporal power of the Holy Father. As Sir Horace implied,
-this temporal power was once the one shining light in a
-chaotic world, and it was well that it should be set on a
-hill. But now the light is diffusing itself. It is our wish that,
-as the Vatican Œcumenical Council declared: ‘Intelligence,
-Knowledge, and Wisdom may grow and perfect themselves—as
-much with the mass as with individuals, with one man as with
-the whole church!’ We are no foes to Freedom. What we
-<i>are</i> foes to, is Anarchy! At the Reformation you gave the
-right of deciding on the deepest religious questions to every
-ignorant man that chose to discuss them, and the seamless
-robe of Christianity was rent into a hundred pieces! Look at
-all these miserable little protestant sects and sub-sects, Plymouth
-Brethren, Primitive Methodists, Ana-baptists, and I
-know not what noisy, ignorant fanatics. At the Revolution, you
-did the same for social questions, and what is the result? The
-Dynamiters of Russia, of Germany, of Ireland, initiated by
-what you, Dr. Maddock, so well call ‘such gentleness as was
-revealed in the diabolical deeds of the Commune,’—to say
-nothing of those of the Reign of Terror.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span></p>
-
-<p>Maddock half-deprecated, half-approved by a gesture and an
-inarticulate sound.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, but,” said Hawkesbury with the thrilled voice of
-suppressed passion, “has not history justified the Reformation?
-and how can you say that it will not justify the Revolution?
-These, as it seems to me, are the two fiery portals which lead
-to Religious and Social Liberty. But you are right to depreciate
-them: they knew nothing of the poetry of Culture and
-Catholicism, or of the prose of Protestantism and Science.
-They were volcanic eruptions of the People. Heine says well,
-when he talks of ‘the divine brutality’ of Luther, and we do not
-shrink from the same phrase for Hugo or Whitman. Sir
-Horace has painted us a Future which is indeed heavenly. It
-is thronged with sweet-singing angels, and there is not a shadow
-in its perfect light. But what has become of the <i>men</i>, and
-what, O what, has become of the <i>devils</i>? They have no place
-in this Future. You do not care for the People, I say, except
-as you care for your dog which, if he is quiet and docile, shall
-have a kennel and the bones and scraps from your table; or,
-if he is surly, shall be chained up; or, if he goes mad, shall be
-shot! Ah believe me, gentlemen, the People <i>has</i> a place in
-the Future, for the People, and none other, <i>is</i> the Future!
-‘<i>All for the modern</i>,’ cries Whitman, ‘<i>all for the average man
-of to-day</i>.’ But you—you only care for the Upper and the
-Middle-class. Your scheme of civilization does not reach to
-the People. The Upper-class is exhausted: it needs invigorating.
-‘<i>Cultivate the Middle-class</i>,’ is the cry, ‘<i>Give us
-Higher Education for the Middle-class!</i>’ This is the whole
-social teaching of the best representative man you have,
-Matthew Arnold. Now we, we Socialists as you call us, <i>love</i>
-the People, and (you will pardon me) <i>hate</i> the Middle-class;—the
-dispossessed, the sufferers, <i>not</i> the possessors, the usurpers!
-The People is the Prodigal Son. What sympathy have we,
-then, with a man like Arnold who has devoted himself to the
-edification of the Elder Brother? Arnold says once that he has
-evolved that perfect style of his which we know so well—that
-style which encloses a minimum of ideas in a maximum of
-catch-words—or, as he likes to call it, ‘plain popular exposition’—for
-the especial benefit of the British Philistine, the
-divine Middle-class, who otherwise could not be got to read
-him! He would have done better, perhaps, if he had not
-turned to the setting, but to the rising sun. The People are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span>
-the masters of the Future, and the People’s great men will be
-the great men of the Future.”</p>
-
-<p>There was a pause. Then:</p>
-
-<p>“There is much truth in what Mr. Hawkesbury says,” says
-Gildea, “Just at present we think too much of the ultimate
-Culture of the Middle-class and too little of that of the
-People. But the fact is, that the question of the Middle-class
-is pressing: they are, as you say, Hawkesbury, the possessors;
-they are the Present! And this, I think, is why men like
-Arnold, who believe that, in the organization of the Present,
-lies the only hope of the success of the Future, are so anxious
-about it. It is a case, as he believes, of ‘Culture or Anarchy’—Culture
-now or Anarchy then. And Carlyle, a disciple of
-whom Mr. Hawkesbury has, in the admirable Preface to his
-second book of Poems, declared himself to be; Carlyle too,
-who laid much stress on what he calls ‘the radical element’ in
-himself, yet mocks at ‘Mill and Co.’ as he says, in whom he
-declares the opposite element was ‘so miserably lacking.’
-Carlyle had no respect for ‘Rousseau fanaticisms,’ even in a
-man like Mazzini: he saw that, if the Middle-class were purblind
-and slow, the Socialists were only purblind and quick.
-Supposing that we grant that the Dynamiters of Russia
-are justified in meeting an absolutely dense despotism with
-violence, what excuse but impatience can we find for the
-Dynamiters of Ireland? The first have no means of free
-agitation, the second have every means. Ireland has been
-wronged: no one denies it; and never, in the whole course
-of her history, has England shown such alacrity as she is doing
-now to right the wrong; never, not even for herself. But the
-Irish Socialists are impatient: their cry is for everything to-day,
-this very hour! To grant it them would be the greatest
-unkindness possible. Well, they too have taken to dynamite
-as a hypochondriac takes to opium. The Russian Nihilists
-are noble people, none nobler, but they taught fools and knaves
-an appalling lesson when they inaugurated the reign of terror
-in Petersburg. At the present moment, as Heine clearly
-foresaw, the Civilization, not of Europe, but of the whole world
-is in danger.”</p>
-
-<p>“You speak well, Sir Horace,” said Maddock, “and express
-my opinions better than I could myself, but—<i>Timeo</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>He, Gildea, and Fitzgerald smiled. Hawkesbury was grave.
-There was a pause. Then:</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span></p>
-
-<p>“I think,” he said, “that you do the People wrong. These
-extreme Socialists, the Nihilists as they are called, are not from
-the People, but from the Middle-class. They are, as a rule,
-men who have received the best education of the time, and
-who yet find themselves unrecognized and unrewarded. Most
-of them are journalists. It would astonish you, I think, to see
-the amount of really first-rate talent that is being flogged to
-death in the shafts of the modern Press. These men cannot
-work in shops and banks: the narrow material life has been
-made impossible to them. The only opening for the life they
-would—nay, that they <i>must</i> live, or perish, is that of Literature.
-Literature caters for the Middle-class, the ruling class. These
-men, then, are the slaves of the great caterers, the newspaper
-editors. One of the most thorough Socialists I ever
-knew, Holden, in fact, was on the regular staff of the
-English <i>Spectator</i>, the organ of the enlightened portion of
-the Middle-class; and there, as he said to me, he went
-as near Socialism as he could for threepence! (Threepence
-is the price of the paper.) This same man wrote, too, political
-articles for a distinguished radical politician, and I have
-seen the proof-sheets of these hacked and mauled by the
-patron to suit the palates of the Radicals. It was this man
-who once seriously contemplated dropping a bomb in the
-House of Lords, to show that herd of hereditary liars, as he
-put it, that there was such a thing as justice in the world! He
-loved the People: he hated the Middle-class, but the People
-cared nothing for him. It is, then, I think, a mistake to lay
-the paternity of Nihilism to the charge of any but the over-fed
-tyrannous Middle-class.”</p>
-
-<p>“What you say,” Maddock said slowly and courteously,
-“is very interesting and instructive, Mr. Hawkesbury, and
-I perceive that the ground which you, and I think I may
-say Mr. Fitzgerald,” (Fitzgerald smiled and bowed), “and
-myself have in common is large enough to admit of our
-working—at any rate not in opposition to one another.
-Is not our mutual object the enlightenment of the unintelligent
-mass of the People and of the Middle-class? I am,
-I am sure, grateful to you, sir, for the manner in which you
-have brought this home to me. I always felt that underneath
-all our differences—I mean, the differences of our beliefs,
-religious or social—we had a common ground, the advancement
-of a really good and true Civilization, and now, I think,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span>
-I know this. He renders us a great service who makes our
-feelings self-conscious, who turns them into the articulate
-thought of words.”</p>
-
-<p>There was a slight pause.</p>
-
-<p>“And now,” said Gildea, in his half-amused way, “we will, if
-you please, go down to lunch. Mr. Alcock particularly asked
-me not to wait for him, and we have waited, it seems unconsciously,
-for over half-an-hour.”</p>
-
-<p>They went down together into the dining-room, chatting
-lightly and pleasantly.</p>
-
-<h3 id="DAWNWARDS_IV">IV.</h3>
-
-<p>The dining-room was the corresponding room on the ground
-story to the sitting-room up above. It was quite as well furnished,
-but in a different style. A fine rather than an exquisite
-form of beauty had been sought after. It was a saying of
-Gildea’s that a dining-room ought to give you an impression
-somewhat similar to that of a beach-brake in spring: the
-architecture and furniture should have clear outlines, the
-colours should be clear, the lights should be clear. All
-massiveness and duskiness was to be avoided. A meal ought
-to be a repast, not a feast: we should rise pleasantly satisfied,
-not dully satiated. In a sitting-room, on the other hand, the
-sworn abode of the sweet and delicate talk and music of
-women, just as the dining-room was that of the serene discussions
-of men, there should be something of the lush
-luxuriance in shape and colour of the midsummer woods,
-knights and ladies and all the figures of romance and fairy-tale
-passing together. But such an arrangement of rooms as this,
-he would say with his bright half-mocking smile, was at
-present like a damsel of the Middle Ages suddenly awakened
-in the dull derisive streets of London or Manchester. This
-will only come to pass in that wonderful Future, when we have
-all learned that Beauty and Truth are synonyms, and Keats
-has statues and altars like Sophokles of old.</p>
-
-<p>Considerable time, wealth and trouble had been spent on
-this house. Sydney and Melbourne had been ransacked for
-beautiful things worthy of Gildea’s ideas of “the nest,” as he
-called it to himself, that he desired; for this was indeed one,
-and not the least remarkable, of his freaks. It had been
-aroused in this fashion. One afternoon, sauntering across a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span>
-road in the Domain, he had almost been run over by someone
-riding a splendid bay horse. Looking up, with a fine touch of
-anger, he had perceived that it was a lady, who was looking
-down at him with a look, he suddenly felt, so precisely his own
-that, the ludicrous aspect of the thing coming upon him, he
-smiled. She too, at once following his change of feeling,
-smiled, and then in a moment, with a slight courteous movement
-of hand and body, had passed. It had all taken place in
-a few seconds. Her face and form made up between them, he
-thought, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he
-had not seen few so-called whether in Europe or elsewhere.
-Beauty in women was, according to Gildea, a thing which was
-not <i>in reality</i> to be seen in the present world, implying, as it
-did, perfection of form and perfection of spirit, καλον κἀγαθον.
-The Athens of Perikles had produced female beauty; in the
-face and form of the Venus of Milo the highest physical and
-spiritual perfection of the time is apparent. Florence too, in
-such a woman as Vittoria Colonna, had produced female
-beauty, and the Renascence had incarnated it in a Marie
-Stuart; but, so far, our Modernity was not ripe for it. Lovely
-female faces it, as all times, had in abundance, but these faces
-knew nothing of spiritual perfection: they knew nothing of
-life, they were not beautiful. And the female faces that <i>did</i>
-know of life, the faces of women like George Sand, Charlotte
-Bronte, George Eliot, were quite wanting in physical
-perfection. They imply mental passion, the struggle of pain:
-they have not reached to the serene pleasure of spiritual
-sovereignty. No, Beauty, καλον κἀγαθον, is to be a produce
-of the Future when Modernity has passed through the pangs
-of its travail and, in the bright light of health and youthfulness,
-“grows in wisdom and stature” to the perfect self.—But
-this face that he had seen for a moment, was, he thought, really
-beautiful.</p>
-
-<p>A few yards from him a man was standing looking back at
-the rider passing along under the trees. Gildea came to him,
-and asked him courteously if he happened to know who the
-lady was?</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said the man, “I don’t know who she is, but I often
-see her.”</p>
-
-<p>And on this incident Gildea had founded a freak which had
-for some time amused him. He intended to see this woman
-again, and, if he was correct in his supposition (which he used<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span>
-amusedly to doubt to himself) that she was some phenomenal
-anticipation of the Future, to possess her. He set about
-choosing and furnishing a house, therefore, which should, as
-far as possible, be worthy of such an individual, and much
-amusement it occasionally afforded him. A private enquiry-office
-was meantime seeking her out; and, about a month ago,
-Gildea to his surprise had been informed that she was, beyond
-doubt, a Miss Medwin, niece of the well-known squatter,
-english, eccentric even to the extent of riding about and
-shooting in man’s clothes on one of Mr. Medwin’s stations in
-New South Wales, and, moreover, strongly suspected of having
-had, and of still having, an intrigue with a Mr. Frank Hawkesbury,
-a writer and man of uncertain means, in Melbourne.
-Gildea laughed much on receiving this unasked-for report,
-(He had just by accident made the acquaintance of Hawkesbury),
-and his interest in his freak somewhat revived; but his
-all but conviction that he was incorrect in his view of Miss
-Medwin (if it were indeed she), prevented him from having any
-great interest in the matter or any great anticipations of success.
-As usual, however, he was satisfied to find that he had
-any interest or anticipations at all. He learned from Mrs.
-Medwin that she was in a short time coming to Sydney for a
-week or so on her road up to one of Mr. Medwin’s New South
-Wales stations to which she had not been for years, and would
-be pleased to see him. A few days ago, then, she and Miss
-Medwin had arrived, and were waiting for Mr. Medwin who
-was detained by business in Melbourne. Hence Gildea’s
-invitation to Mrs. Medwin and her niece, to come and make
-tea for him and go for a sail in the “Petrel.”</p>
-
-<p>The party arranged itself round the table, Maddock at one
-end, Gildea at the other, an empty place on Gildea’s right
-hand for Alcock, Hawkesbury on his left with Fitzgerald next
-to him. Maddock, as before, could not help observing with
-admiration the beautiful room in which they were sitting.
-Hawkesbury, however, following out a train of thought suggested
-by his own last words, sat serious, looking at the table-cloth.</p>
-
-<p>The lunch began. Gildea and Fitzgerald could both, when
-they pleased, excel in that graceful sweetness of manner which
-is supposed to be the peculiar gift of women. They pleased
-now. The talk flowed lightly and pleasantly, and soon returned
-to, what seemed to be to them all, the most interesting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span>
-topic—the People. Fitzgerald spoke of the far greater ease
-and leisure of the People here than in England, and that led
-on to a consideration of the question of Labour here.</p>
-
-<p>“Carlyle declared long ago,” said Hawkesbury suddenly,
-“that the great question of the time was no other than the
-organization of Labour. Well, Labour is at last organizing. The
-consequence is that, as Mr. Fitzgerald remarked, there is
-greater ease and leisure among the People, not only here in
-Australia where Labour is comparatively scarce, but even in
-England where it is plentiful.—The question here, however,”
-he added, “shows signs of complication. The employers
-are to form—nay, have already formed—a union: ‘The
-Victorian Employers’ Union.’ The only wonder is that it is
-in Victoria and not in England that this idea has first been
-adopted. In Trades-Unionism in England, let me say it at
-once, there have been many abuses; but, let me hasten to
-add, not nearly so many abuses as there were under the old
-despotism of Capital. Trades-Unionism, which so few people
-seem to understand, originally meant the combination of many
-oppressed small units against a great oppressing unit. <i>Now</i> it
-means more: it means the determined effort of the People
-after happiness.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is very true, I think,” said Gildea, “The People,
-ever since the deception practised upon them by the compromise
-Reform Bill of ’32, have been slowly learning to
-organize themselves and to rely on themselves alone. Such a
-fact soon makes itself apparent. There is not a single considerable
-political measure since ’32 which has not a socialistic
-tendency.”</p>
-
-<p>Hawkesbury acknowledged Gildea’s remark, and proceeded:</p>
-
-<p>“The People, and by the People I mean of course the
-masses, is everywhere realizing that there is something better
-worth living for than frantic competition and the scramble for
-wealth. Trades-Unionism, then, is the sworn foe of all this.
-I am not speaking either for or against Trades-Unionism: I
-am simply stating what it <i>wants</i>, what it <i>is</i>! The Trades-hall
-delegates, in the late conference anent the Bootmakers’ strike
-in Melbourne, refused to let a bootmaker work for more than
-eight hours a day, although, by so doing, he might better himself,
-and by not so doing might keep himself for ever a mere
-journeyman. ‘Further argument with men of such a way
-of thinking,’ says Mr. Bruce Smith, the chief mover of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span>
-‘Victorian Employers’ Union,’ ‘further argument seemed useless.’
-And it was indeed as it seemed; for these men were of
-opinion that if, in the frantic competition and scramble for wealth,
-one or two journeymen <i>did</i> rise and become rich, hundreds and
-thousands would have to lead lives which would not stand
-too favourable a comparison with those of dogs. ‘Therefore,’
-the delegates would say, ‘we will check this frantic competition
-and scramble for wealth, and we will even be so wicked as to
-sacrifice the one or two possible journeymen who might rise
-and become rich, for the sake of the actual hundreds and
-thousands whose lives otherwise would not stand too favourable
-a comparison with those of dogs.’ Well, and what will be
-the end of this new phase of the great battle of Capital <i>versus</i>
-Labour on which we seem to be now entering here? Let me
-not be thought a terrorist, if I remark, what is indeed patent
-to all, that, in a country with a franchise like ours, Labour, if
-driven into a corner and confronted by Capital triumphantly
-brandishing its sword of ‘Frantic-competition-and-the-scramble-for-wealth—Labour,
-I say, might make things excessively
-uncomfortable for the community in general and Capital in
-particular. I am not hinting at mobs and sticks and stones. I
-am merely stating a fact that is patent to all. Our good
-friends the Landed-proprietors, videlicet the squatters, have
-experienced in Victoria and elsewhere—are indeed now experiencing
-even in Queensland<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a>—the undoubted benefits of
-a little judicious legislation. Might not someone suggest to
-the ‘Victorian Employers’ Union’ and Mr. Bruce Smith, who
-seem to have such quaint notions of what Trades-Unionism
-really wants and is, that the same fate may possibly be in store
-for our other good friends, the Capitalists?”</p>
-
-<p>“It is a pity,” said Gildea smiling, “that we have not
-a Capitalist here to answer you. But, I think, I know
-what one of them, Mr. Alcock, would say. He would
-say that the great law of Nature is this very frantic struggle
-which you deprecate, and that, if you attempt to put
-a check on it, you will only end by first arresting and
-then destroying all progress. He would oppose the interference
-of organized Labour quite as much as of organized
-public opinion, that is to say the State. He would of course
-recognize all the evils of the frantic struggle, but he would say
-that it yet contained the great ascending and progressive power<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span>
-of Nature, it was yet capable of Evolution; whereas the artificial
-state of popular leisure and ease contains the great
-de-scending and retrogressive power of Nature, Dissolution.—But
-here,” he said, “at the very nick of time, he comes himself.”</p>
-
-<p>Edgar, who had just left them, returned ushering in Alcock,
-who came forward with somewhat off-hand apologies to shake
-hands with Gildea. He was then introduced to Maddock and
-shook hands with him, compromising the matter, as he thought,
-with the others by a bow and an expression of his pleasure at
-making their acquaintance. He sat down in his place and,
-having told Edgar what he chose to eat, was ready for a few
-moments’ talk before setting somewhat vigorously to work on
-the victuals. Gildea explained to him the conversational context,
-and what he himself had ventured to say in the person of
-the typical scientific capitalist.</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” Alcock said, with a half-pleased half-amused look
-on his face, when Gildea had finished, “I will observe that, on
-the whole, you didn’t put my sentiments so badly, Sir Horace.—I
-am opposed to all state interference,” he declared, turning
-to Maddock, “It doesn’t pay in the long run; it enervates
-people! Look at this New South Wales here. They can’t put
-a bridge across a creek now, without petitioning government
-for assistance! In England a half-dozen men or so would have
-got together and settled the matter themselves. And they
-want more state interference in Victoria! Why, it’ll drain out
-all their independence, and energy; and, in twenty years, they’ll
-be as lazy and lackadaisical as they are here in New South Wales!
-Competition’s the law of Nature.” By this time Alcock’s mouth
-was full, and he was beginning to enjoy the delicate food and
-wines, for he was hungry and thirsty. There was a pause.</p>
-
-<p>“True,” said Fitzgerald, gently breaking it, “but does not
-Mr. Alcock too think, that it is just where the law of Nature
-ends that the law of Humanity begins? Surely this is the
-essential position of Christianity, that it says to the brutality of
-Nature: ‘Thus far shalt thou go, and no further.’”</p>
-
-<p>“You can’t,” answered Alcock with his mouth full, too intent
-on the victuals to be more explicit, “You can’t interfere—impunity—great
-law—nature—struggle—existence—survival—fittest.”</p>
-
-<p>“Here, then,” said Fitzgerald who ate little and drank less,
-turning to Hawkesbury, “<i>we</i> are at one, I think, as opposed
-to the pure Scientists?”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span></p>
-
-<p>“I do not believe,” Hawkesbury said, “and I do not think
-any Socialist believes, in carrying the initiative of the individual
-to the extent that Herbert Spencer would like. But we
-are not in favour of state interference. We want to nationalize
-things, the land, the unearned increment, the great public
-enterprises, but we include in this term the State also. The
-State at present means the tool of the Middle-class, worked by
-Capital and the Land Interest. This arrangement partakes
-too much of the nature of a political joint-stock company to
-please Socialists.”</p>
-
-<p>“And you think,” asked Gildea, his hand on his wine glass,
-looking at Hawkesbury, “you think that when the People
-wins, as it of course ultimately will win, the control of things,
-that it will not work the State in its own interest, just as the
-Aristocracy did and as the Middle-class does?”</p>
-
-<p>“You know,” Hawkesbury said, “I <i>believe</i> in the People!
-The People is the only unselfish part of society. Their one
-desire is for justice and mercy; and, when they could not get
-it themselves, they have always died readily for those who,
-they believed, wished to give it them. Herein lies the secret
-of all great popular devotions—from that of Christ to that of
-Napoleon.”</p>
-
-<p>“I,” said Alcock, “do <i>not</i> believe in the People, as you call
-them, and their unselfishness has not yet come under my
-notice. The People, like everyone else, are led by what they
-believe to be their interests, their immediate interests, and our
-great effort should be, by giving them a good sound practical
-education, to get them to see that their true interest lies in
-e-volution and not in re-volution. Let us have a fair chance
-for everybody, and let the best men win.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Hawkesbury, with suppressed eagerness, “but
-the trouble is that, in this so-called free competition of yours,
-the best <i>don’t</i> win! In Nature the best win, I agree; but
-Civilization has complicating clauses that modify and all but
-change, what you rightly call, her great law—the struggle for
-existence and survival of the fittest.”</p>
-
-<p>“I do not see that,” said Alcock, returning to his victuals
-which he had left for a few moments.</p>
-
-<p>“I will give you an instance,” said Hawkesbury, “A, B,
-and C are three men who start as beggars in the market of free
-competition. A has the best wits, and A accordingly wins,
-and makes a fortune. Good: we applaud! Then A, B, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span>
-C all die, leaving sons D, E, and F, the best-witted of whom
-does not happen to be D, A’s son, but E, the son of B. Does
-E therefore win and make a fortune, and D sink down to his
-proper level with F? Not a bit of it! D has not only his
-own second-rate powers to help him: he has also the wealth
-which he inherits from his father. E, then, has no chance
-against him: the second-rate man with wealth overwhelms the
-first-rate man with beggary. What are the consequences,
-generally speaking? Why, that, instead of the best surviving,
-the second or third or fourth or fifth-best survive, and the
-market is drugged with successful mediocrity. Here, I think,
-is the delusion under which Herbert Spencer’s social philosophy
-labours: he does not see that Civilization, as we know
-it at present, is not a natural but an artificial state, and that
-therefore the laws which hold good in Nature by no means
-necessarily hold good in Civilization. Look at the bees or ants,
-whose Civilization is a natural and not, as ours is, an artificial
-one: do <i>they</i> encourage free competition with its inevitable
-concomitants of wealth and power accumulated in the hands of
-a few to the prejudice of the community? Not so. To each
-is assigned an equal, if varying, share in the economy of the
-community. With them work has its duty, and, as for idleness,
-it is not possible. But what duty has the successful
-business man, except to his own success? what duty has the
-wealthy aristocrat, except to his own pleasure?” There was a
-slight pause.</p>
-
-<p>“It won’t <i>work</i>,” said Alcock, his eyes a little opened,
-sitting considering this young man with sudden interest.
-(Alcock had so far thought that, in the present company,
-nothing would be acceptable save, what he called, a popular
-exposition of his own views)—“Believe me,” he added with
-gravity to Hawkesbury, “I have gone through all this at length,
-repeatedly, and with care, and I am convinced that, with many
-drawbacks, free competition within and without is the only
-thing which will give us a civilization of progress. The real
-tendency of everything else, I say, is towards stagnation or
-retrogression. Free competition universal, the great problem
-of which is to be the dominant race will proceed to settle itself
-quickly and thoroughly. Until that problem is settled, we
-cannot hope for a Civilization worthy of the name. All the
-inferior races must be stamped out, all the stagnatory or
-retrogressive ideas eliminated, and the best men with the best<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span>
-knowledge left masters of the situation. It is impossible to
-foresee what such men may achieve. We may yet, perhaps,
-open communications with the planets and even modify the
-courses of the stars.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said Fitzgerald smiling, “we have had the Vision
-of the Future from the Christian, the Cultured, the Socialistic
-point of view, and now we see that Science too has her dreams.
-I have no objection myself to any of these Visions which, as I
-take it, all contain a not inconsiderable amount of truth. I
-would only observe that I believe them to be all impossible
-solely and individually. The Socialistic Future that would
-banish Christ, the Scientific that would also banish God, can
-no more exist as, in Mr. Alcock’s phrase, masters of the situation,
-than the Future of Christianity that would ignore the
-glory of our discoveries in Natural Law, or the Future of
-Culture that would deny to the People our highest joy.”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said Alcock drily, “we don’t want Superstition
-mixed up with Religion, <i>that</i> is clear enough.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nor yet,” added Fitzgerald sweetly, “do we want Superstition
-mixed up <i>without</i> Religion.” (Alcock, with the look of
-a man who does not understand a thing and does not much
-care to, took a drink at his champagne, which, it was evident
-from the new expression on his face, was to his taste. Fitzgerald
-proceeded suavely to the table at large and more
-particularly to Maddock.) “For, as perhaps Mr. Alcock,”
-(with a slight bend of the head to Alcock), “will permit me to
-say, the purely scientific view of things, which sees, in the
-unrestrained application to civilized life of the brutality of
-Nature, the undoubted parent of a Civilization worthy of the
-name, may be after all, and I believe is, a great superstition.
-Is not a superstition a belief in a thing not worthy of that
-belief? And is it not, then, a superstition, in calculating the
-progress of Humanity, to leave out of all account, as the pure
-Scientists seem to me to do, the most distinctive thing in
-Humanity—Religion.”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>I</i> should say,” observed Alcock, “that <i>Reason</i> is the most
-distinctive thing in Humanity.”</p>
-
-<p>“Indeed?” asked Fitzgerald, “You surprise me! Is it not
-generally admitted now that the rudiments of Reason, and
-considerably more than the rudiments, are to be found in the
-animals? But I am not aware that anyone, not even Ernst
-Haeckel, has discovered in them the rudiments of Religion.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span>
-Can we not, then, agree with Max Müller that it is ‘certain that
-what makes man man, is that he alone can turn his face
-to heaven; certain that he alone yearns for something that
-neither sense nor reason can supply?’”</p>
-
-<p>Alcock had the look of a man who feels the prompting of
-flippancy and, restraining it, is amused at what his flippancy
-would have said. Fitzgerald, perceiving this, answered it:</p>
-
-<p>“Müller,” he proceeded, “in criticising Kant, who is of
-course the Father of all the worshippers of Reason, again says
-finely that ‘he closed the ancient gates through which man had
-gazed into Infinity; but, in spite of himself, he was driven, in
-his “Criticism of Practical Reason,” to open a side-door
-through which to admit the sense of duty, and with it the
-sense of the Divine.—This is the vulnerable point in Kant’s
-philosophy,’ he goes on, ‘and if philosophy has to explain
-what is, not what ought to be, there will be and can be no rest
-till we admit, which cannot be denied, that there is in man a
-third faculty, which I call simply the faculty of apprehending
-the Infinite, not only in religion but in all things, a power
-independent of sense and reason, a power in a certain sense
-contradicted by sense and reason, but yet a very real power,
-which has held its own from the beginning of the world,
-neither sense nor reason being able to overcome it, while it
-alone is able to overcome both reason and sense.’”</p>
-
-<p>“That it has held its own from the beginning of the world,”
-said Alcock, “is no proof that it will do so to the end.”</p>
-
-<p>Fitzgerald smiled.</p>
-
-<p>“What you say,” he answered, “makes clear to me, then,
-that you do not accept this ‘faculty of apprehending the
-Infinite,’ and philosophically make the best of it, but you wish
-to call it mere childishness or, as you say, superstition and—‘eliminate’
-it! And yet you talk of Religion! What, may I
-ask, does a pure Scientist, as you seem to be, Mr. Alcock,
-<i>mean</i> by Religion?”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said Alcock frankly, “I confess that, to me, it means
-little more than credulity. I am not, of course, hostile to
-Religion; on the contrary, I support it. It helps to keep
-society together.”</p>
-
-<p>“It will do,” said Hawkesbury, “for the People! Pending
-the arrival of that education, which is to teach them the high
-satisfaction of social evolution, the masses may amuse themselves
-with such used-out mummeries as the Devil, Christ, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span>
-God. The People is grateful. It has, it knows, as much to
-expect from Science as from Culture.”</p>
-
-<p>Fitzgerald was quite amused.</p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Alcock,” he said, “since you pure Scientists are
-generally reckoned as the foes of us Christians, we can ask
-you to do us no kinder service than to nail these colours of
-yours to the mast in the sight of all men. I do not alone mean
-your belief that Religion is all but a synonyme for credulity;
-but this general conception of things of yours which includes
-no further consideration for Religion than elimination. We
-can have no doubt of the results. The world will doubtless
-find in <i>our</i> conception of things a certain amount of, what Mr.
-Hawkesbury has called, used-out mummery (for man’s free-will
-has ever turned use into abuse), but it will find also things
-which savour of the kindly earth and the genial sun; whereas,
-if you will let me say so, in <i>yours</i> all that it will find will be
-the steel-cold atmosphere of some heatless planet, filled with
-the dreary whirr of abstract machinery. Superstition <i>with</i>
-Religion, they will say, is better than Superstition <i>without</i>.
-And then, after they have given you a trial—and a trial they
-will give you, and such a great and long trial that we shall be
-eliminated almost as much as even you, Mr. Alcock, could
-wish us to be—then they will come back to us, and, having
-been driven by sore anguish of soul to re-discover, as their
-Father did, the sense of duty and of the Divine, they will find
-that this first step leads inevitably to another, and that to yet
-another. And, in the end, all high souls, and after them of
-course all other souls (for the wisdom of to-day is the common
-sense of to-morrow), will see that their best and truest Father
-was a man who, passing through all this before them, has
-these years stood with clear and radiant faith, his longing
-hands held out to all that would take their strong help and
-guidance to that place of joy and of peace!”</p>
-
-<p>Alcock, supposing this man to be Jesus and having made it
-a rule never in mixed company to speak of that to him, under
-such circumstances, embarrassing personage, kept silence,
-looking at the table-cloth. Hawkesbury too did not understand
-the allusion, which even Maddock, unless he had been
-warned by Gildea of Fitzgerald’s connection with Cardinal
-Newman, might have missed. As it was, Gildea, perceiving
-and amused at Alcock’s misunderstanding, was ready to at
-once dissipate it.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span></p>
-
-<p>“Newman,” he said, “is indeed the great modern example
-of a man of high intellect and all spiritual powers giving, not
-only, as Heine did, ‘his tribute of admiration,’ but everything
-he had, ‘to the splendid consistency of the Roman Catholic
-doctrine.’ I remember once hearing a rather able High-churchman
-say that he could not see, any more after than
-before reading the celebrated <i>Apologia</i>, why Newman had
-joined the Church of Rome: which is to say, that he could
-not see that, to a certain type of mind, the only two logical
-positions for a man of thought to-day are those of Scientific
-Atheism or of Catholic Faith.”</p>
-
-<p>“He leaves no place, then,” said Hawkesbury, “for the
-Theists or the Pantheists?”</p>
-
-<p>“The Theists,” answered Gildea, “leave no place for themselves—except
-in the spiritual out-houses and the Unitarian
-chapels. There is not, I think, in modern times, one man of
-first, or second, or even third-class intellectual power that has
-believed in a personal God and not believed in a divine Christ.
-All men of thought are really now divided into two classes,
-Christians and Atheists: the first believing in a personal Christ
-and a personal God, the second in Law. All other differences
-are, as it seems to me, at heart mere divergences of symbolism.
-We are accustomed, for instance, to call those who hold that
-matter produces spirit Materialists, and those who hold that
-spirit produces matter Idealists, and those who hold that
-matter and spirit are identic and divine, Pantheists; but really
-they are all Atheists. There is no Atheism, no disbelief in a
-personal God, more intense than that of our Idealists, Renan,
-Arnold, Emerson, who never cease, however, to talk of God
-and bid us find in Him our only comfort and guide: they are
-the true children of Goethe whose conception of God was
-Humanity in Nature, and of Religion Humanity in Art.”</p>
-
-<p>“So we Catholics feel,” said Fitzgerald, “and this is, as I
-have implied, the great truth which we owe to the life and
-work of Newman. He has saved us from any temptation to
-compromise with Atheism. We are to stand to our guns, and,
-if we must perish, perish there!”</p>
-
-<p>“The only thing is,” Gildea answered ruefully, “that no
-great spiritual movement, religious or otherwise, was ever yet
-produced, retained, or destroyed by the action of logic, and
-they have all partaken largely of the nature of compromise.
-Voltaire and the philosophes sent such a douche of logic onto<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span>
-Christianity in France that they literally beat it out of the
-country, but it came back again. And why? Because it contained
-the satisfaction of the demands of one side of Humanity
-which Logic had not, and could not have. Well, they compromised
-the matter, and the result is, (Dare I declare it, Fitzgerald?),
-none other than men like the fine and intellectual
-ecclesiastics who presided over the education of that lay priest,
-as he calls himself, Ernest Renan. History repeats itself.
-What Logic tried to do yesterday, Science is trying to do
-to-day. And, as you,” (he turned his eyes to Fitzgerald),
-“foresee, Christianity, and Religion generally will suffer a
-defeat and even decapitation, only to return with processions,
-ringing of bells and the glad shouts of the populace. Then
-the Parliament will shut up all the sunday theatres, and the
-skeletons of Professor Huxley and Herbert Spencer will be
-removed from the Pantheon at Westminster and lodged in
-Madame Tussaud’s, and the land have rest—for the space of
-forty years!”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said Alcock, “you young gentlemen are getting too
-far head for steady-going seniors like Dr. Maddock and myself.
-We will ask for matches, and smoke a cigar, while you
-tell us all about our great-great-grandchildren.”</p>
-
-<p>Cigars, cigarettes, and lights were brought and, with some
-pleasant small talk, the party loosened and eased its position at
-table and physical and mental state generally.</p>
-
-<p>“Talking of compromise,” said Hawkesbury, taking his
-cigarette from his lips and leaning the elbow of the hand that
-held it on the table, “between Religion and Logic, or Reason,
-is not, what is called, Positivism an attempt to organise such a
-compromise?”</p>
-
-<p>Gildea began to laugh.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah,” he said, “is not Arnold’s ‘grotesque old french
-pedant,’ a late foolish Monsieur Comte, as Carlyle would say,
-to leave me alone even beyond ‘the long wash of Australian
-seas?’ Am I to be persecuted even here by his tiresome
-adaptations and school-boy notions, all bundled up in superlatively
-bad French?—You do not know,” he added, “what I
-chance to have suffered at the hands of my positivist friends at
-home, or I am sure you would not ask me to discuss them
-here where I am come for a holiday. They and Mr. Mallock are
-the most tiresome people in existence. You have heard of Mr.
-Mallock out here? and of his tilts with the junior Positivists?”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span></p>
-
-<p>Hawkesbury acquiesced.</p>
-
-<p>“We have heard of everything out here,” he said smiling.</p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Mallock,” said Gildea, “was a young man who wrote
-a charming book called ‘The New Republic,’ one of the most
-charming books that had been written for several years, and
-then took to polemics, and has been logically agonizing there
-ever since. For this too we all ought to owe this religio-intellectual
-pedantry called Positivism a grudge. And, when
-we remember what Positivism did for George Eliot,—reduced
-a good quarter of herself and her characters into edificatory
-machines—I think that all of us, to whom Nature and Art are
-precious, should look upon Positivism as the contemporary
-accursèd thing.” Gildea spoke with a certain exaggerativeness
-of tone and manner that to Maddock, observing and
-listening to everything with humour, was somewhat puzzling.
-Maddock with average profundity suspected that here was a
-case of some personal memory of a more or less disagreeable
-character; but average profundity, when it has to deal with
-that which is out of the range of the average, nearly always
-makes mistakes. Gildea was subject to sudden losses of
-interest in what he was saying or doing, spiritual twinges of
-that terrible wound from which he suffered: to those to whom
-“the endless emptiness of all things” is a reality, moments of
-acute weariness and disgust are ever lying in wait, and then
-the harness of life and living is often resumed with impatience
-or even pettishness. It had been so just now with Gildea.
-He had looked forward to his meeting with Miss Medwin, and
-heard those beautiful lips open and sounds come forth that
-showed that, however fine the harp, its strings were unattuned.
-The sense of his intense and perpetual loneliness had rushed
-upon him, and he had gone back again into his surroundings
-with an irritation that in a few moments amused him at himself.</p>
-
-<p>The talk passed onwards, Maddock for the first time taking
-his share in it. And yet again it came round to the People.
-It was clear that the strongest impression that had been given
-to the party was that of Hawkesbury’s Socialism.</p>
-
-<p>“If I had been speaking of it some five or six years ago,”
-said Fitzgerald, “I should have certainly said that I thought
-the Secularists had made most impression on the People of
-late years. But, in the face of the American Revivalist meetings
-and the Salvation Army, I have had to modify my views.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span></p>
-
-<p>“These movements or rather this movement,” said Gildea,
-“strikes me as reactionary. British Middle-class Liberalism
-and Secularism have been at work, with much cry, and the
-egregious littleness of the wool has disgusted the People who
-have rushed off into the opposite extreme. The workmen, the
-skilled workmen, are I think secular. I remember hearing a
-lecturer on art who had been on a tour in America say, that
-the American workmen all asked him if he knew Darwin
-or Huxley or Tyndall, and expressed little or no care about
-anyone else, which seemed to surprise him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Cardinal Manning,” Fitzgerald remarked, “said well, then,
-that ‘the spiritual desolation of London alone would make the
-Salvation Army possible’—‘this zealous but defiant movement.’
-Are we right in our supposition, do you think, Mr.
-Hawkesbury?”</p>
-
-<p>Hawkesbury assented.</p>
-
-<p>“There are three movements,” he said, “at present going
-on among the People—the Socialistic, the Religious, and the
-Secular. They are all strong. In Ireland I have seen the
-two first clash, and the first was almost invariably victorious.
-If the priests will not go with the People in their socialistic
-views, (For of course the Irish Question is really a socialistic
-one, although it is not spoken of as such), then the priests are
-given up. Usually, however, the priests, being themselves of
-the People, are in full sympathy with them. The Socialists
-are by no means necessarily Atheists, but they are not
-Christians. ‘The sooner,’ I heard one of them say once,
-when pressed on the point, ‘the sooner Christ is made a thing
-of the past and Jesus a thing of the present, the better it will
-be for all of us.’ That expresses them excellently. The same
-idea lies at bottom in the popular Religious movement.—We
-Socialists,” he added with a touch of bright humour, “like the
-Booths better than we like the Bradlaughs, but we recognise
-that both are in earnest and working for the People.”</p>
-
-<p>“And what, religiously speaking,” asked Fitzgerald, “do you
-believe is to be the future state of the People, and of us all?”</p>
-
-<p>Hawkesbury had another touch of bright humour.</p>
-
-<p>“Socialism,” he said, “nothing but Socialism! We are all
-Socialists, whether we know it or not. Just, then, as in the
-first and second centuries the platonistic Time-spirit radically
-influenced before it was absorbed into the christianic: so in
-the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries has the christianic<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span>
-Time-spirit radically influenced, before it shall be finally
-absorbed in, the socialistic. Socialism has, after all, its universal
-modern expounder in Goethe. Goethe was the first to
-look upon Civilization as a great organic whole, every part of
-which has fixed pleasures and duties. He was the first, we
-believe, to conceive a natural as opposed to an artificial
-Civilization. Carlyle, too, felt something of the sort, although
-he could not express it, any more than he could not express
-what he took God to be. But we know Carlyle loved us, and
-therefore we love Carlyle. As for your Idealists, Sir Horace,—Renan,
-Emerson, and Arnold—we have no care for them,
-nor they for us. I remember once hearing Holden call
-Arnold ‘the man who slew so many Philistines with the jawbone
-of an ass.’ Well, the remark is expressive of his attitude
-towards Culture.” Gildea and Fitzgerald were laughing,
-Maddock smiling.</p>
-
-<p>“The end of it all,” said Maddock, “seems to be, then, Mr.
-Hawkesbury, that ‘the People,’ as we say, is the great unknown
-quantity of the social equation. We all more or less
-feel its power, and we all more or less wish that power to be
-arrayed on our side, but no one quite knows what it is and
-everyone is a little afraid of it.”</p>
-
-<p>“You say truly,” said Hawkesbury, “The People is the
-great unknown power, and it puzzles us. Pharaoh has
-dreamed a dream, and there is none of all the magicians of
-Egypt and all the wise men thereof that can interpret it unto
-him. What to make of the People’s noisy Tichborne or Salvation
-Army devotions but political and religious infatuations?
-Be it so! But I will say this, that the People has a shrewd
-humorous instinct for both politics and religion that is a whole
-heaven above the purblind prudence of the Middle-class.”
-He sighed, the sigh of a man who has somewhat outspoken
-himself. “‘—And all these things,’ he added as if to conclude
-the matter, ‘are only known to the Deity.’”</p>
-
-<p>Gildea smiled.</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” he said, “Are there not those among us who look
-forward to what is to come with the brightest faith or with the
-darkest despair? And there are those who dream and those
-who doubt,—and those too who possess their souls with
-patience, nourishing a modest hope. For</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“what was before we know not,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">and we know not what shall succeed.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“Haply the river of Time—</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">as it grows, as the towns on its marge</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">fling their wavering lights</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">on a wider, statelier stream—</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">may acquire, if not the calm</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">of its early mountainous shore,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">yet a solemn peace of its own.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Little more was said after this of the chief subjects of their
-talk, and presently both Fitzgerald and Hawkesbury took their
-leave, Maddock and Fitzgerald, and Alcock and Hawkesbury,
-expressing mutual hopes of seeing one another again.</p>
-
-<h3 id="DAWNWARDS_V">V.</h3>
-
-<p>Maddock went out into the balcony and stood there, leaning
-on the rails, reflectively smoking his cigar and looking out at
-the scene stretched before him like a panorama. Alcock held
-quiet converse with Gildea for a few moments, apologetically
-asking permission to go and write a letter, the importance of
-which he would have explained at length, had not Gildea
-interposed.</p>
-
-<p>“By all means,” said he; and, with a word of excuse to and
-gesture of acknowledgment from Maddock, took Alcock off
-into a room opposite, a study, where he ensconced him at the
-desk and, having pointed out the position of all the epistolatory
-necessities and told him to ring the bell for Edgar who would
-see that the letter was posted at once, withdrew and rejoined
-Maddock on the balcony.</p>
-
-<p>“You will excuse Alcock,” Gildea said, lighting a cigarette,
-“He has a letter of importance to write, which he does not
-care to leave till we come back.”</p>
-
-<p>Maddock at once acquiesced. There was a pause, both
-smoking with leisure.</p>
-
-<p>At last:</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said Gildea, taking his cigarette from his lips, “and
-how did you like the happy family? You were a very quiet
-member of it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Maddock, “I refrained from mewing and sat
-still, purring and pleasantly watching the others. It struck me,
-shortly after Alcock came in, that we were a very representative
-happy family.”</p>
-
-<p>“We only wanted a genial Theist to make the pile complete.
-Your good Judge is a Theist. Now if we could only....”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span></p>
-
-<p>“Ay, ay,” said Maddock with something like a chuckle,
-“Judge Parker is a Theist! As your friend the <i>Argus</i> said, he
-was ‘the learned gentleman who discovered Unitarianism in the
-early months of 1885.’—Come now,” he proceeded with a
-sudden concentration of interest, “what are you going to say of
-the affirmative side of this man’s criticism, after your remark
-that there was not, in modern times, one man of real intellectual
-power that has believed in a personal God and not believed
-in a divine Christ? Are you going to turn upon me again with
-your precious purely intellectual view of things, and say: ‘The
-question that now arises is, has not Theism, after all,’ et cetera,
-et cetera, et cetera?”</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly I am,” said Gildea laughing, “but all hope of
-utilizing the purely intellectual view seems lost after my unwary
-committal of myself.—No,” he added more seriously, “I have
-of course little more left to do than to try and get you to join
-me in abuse of the good Judge for his superstition, that is to
-say his Theism, and that other egregious vice of his—his
-ludicrously inadequate conception of what is ‘good and
-ennobling.’ To take the last first, I will say, as I once heard
-Hawkesbury say on a like occasion, that I would far sooner
-believe in the Orthodox Christ than in the Unitarian Jesus.
-Indeed I might broaden my saying, and declare to the whole
-Rationalistic conception of Christ and Christianity generally,
-what Carlyle declared to Voltaire: ‘Cease, my much respected
-Herr Von Voltaire, shut thy sweet voice; for the task appointed
-thee seems finished. Sufficiently hast thou demonstrated this
-proposition, considerable or otherwise: That the Mythus of the
-Christian Religion looks not in the eighteenth century as it did in
-the eighth.... Take our thanks, then, and—thyself away.’”</p>
-
-<p>“Judge Parker’s view of Our Lord,” said Maddock frowning,
-“is,—not to say blasphemous,—simply <i>fatuous</i>! I do not
-know whether indignation at impudence or contempt at stupidity
-the most possesses a man, when he is told, by such an one as
-this, that ‘the Christian Theist, who regards Jesus as man,
-considers, and rightly from his point of view, that it <i>is</i> within
-his power to attain to the life of, and to follow the example of,
-Christ.’ Imagine Judge Parker attaining to the life of anyone
-but a blatantly successful lawyer in the truculent spiritual quagmires
-of a colonial capital!”</p>
-
-<p>“Our good Judge’s discovery and investigation of the character
-of Jesus,” said Gildea, almost ready to laugh outright at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span>
-Maddock’s concluding dythramb, “are certainly not unlike
-those of a man who should charter a penny steam-boat for a
-trip up the Nile, and proceed, on his return to England, to give
-a lengthy description of certain large triangular-shaped buildings
-which, he should say, bore considerable resemblance to
-the common-sense conception of pyramids! And it <i>is</i> possible
-perhaps to denominate such a description as fatuous. His
-conception of Jesus <i>is</i>, we are agreed—inadequate: ‘an
-exemplar ... who merits all praise, all esteem, and love,
-and admiration for that, <i>being human</i>, he led so pure, so
-blameless, so noble and unselfish a life.’ This, what this with
-our good Judge <i>means</i>, is an inadequate conception of Jesus.
-He perceives nothing of the real essence of Jesus. Anything
-that Arnold, whom he quotes so often, may have said
-of ‘the mildness and sweet reasonableness’ of Jesus, or that
-Renan may have said of the wonderful powers of personal
-attraction that are in Jesus—all this has fallen like water on the
-judicial back of our duck here! It is for none of these that
-our good Judge, our typical man of common-sense, goes
-to his New Testament. ‘Mildness and sweet reasonableness,’
-the yearning of a consuming personal love, are not
-clear solid spiritual qualities which his mind can see and
-touch and handle. They have no place in the copy-books
-of the soul, nor yet in the sum-books thereof, and you
-shall search its ‘Little Arthur’s History’ from beginning
-to end and find no mention of them. Their only place
-is in the thoughts, words, and actions of the men and
-women who have moved thousands and millions of their
-fellows, in the radiant days of high civilizations, in the agonies
-of the travail or the destruction of peoples and races. ‘It is
-apparent,’ says he, ‘that we can collect from the Christian
-Bible, a purer, more beautiful, and more advanced ethical
-code, than is to be obtained from any other book or books.’
-O good Judge, O belovèd Judge, if all that is to be got out of
-the Christian Bible is an ‘ethical code,’ then the sooner
-Martin Tupper and Mr. Harrison are deified, the sooner will
-the human soul have reached its apogee!”</p>
-
-<p>“That is well,” said Maddock, “but, at the same time, there
-are few things that disgust me more than the man of the opposite
-sort—he who, like so many of these Socialists of yours,
-will sing the love of Christ with passion, and then go out and
-commit a hundred of the grossest sins. Christ is morality.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span></p>
-
-<p>“Ah no,” said Gildea, “he is something better; he is religion!
-It is immoral to commit adultery: it is moral to punish
-it: (‘Infinitely better that they should atone for it, than lose a
-step towards a higher life’): it is religious, not to condemn it,
-but to bid go and sin no more. It is immoral to take
-your share in your father’s substance and waste it in violent
-living: it is moral to punish this prodigal, to whom repentance
-has only come with a belly that was fain to fill itself with the
-husks of the swine: it is religious to kill the fatted calf for such
-a penitent, and rejoice and make glad. Jesus’ sole criticism
-on practical morality, on the realization of an ethical code in
-everyday life, is, that ‘it was not so from the beginning.’”</p>
-
-<p>“Just so; but this is precisely the difference of the ethical
-code of the Old and of the New Dispensation.”</p>
-
-<p>“Will you let me say, that it has nothing to do with any
-ethical code at all? For, surely, the essence of ethical codes is
-justice, and the essence of the religious code, of the code of
-Jesus, is love. The Amazon may be a big river, but you shall
-compass all time in trying to put into it the unspeakable ocean.—No,
-it is just here that, as Fitzgerald would say, all these
-good people are superstitious. They believe that the spiritual
-progress of humanity is synonymous with the progress of one
-portion of the spirit of humanity, namely the ethical portion;
-and this, being a belief in a thing not worthy of that belief,
-may justly, as it seems to me, be denominated a superstition.
-It is superstition without religion.”</p>
-
-<p>“And what, then,” asked Maddock, “do you call the belief
-of men like your friend Hawkesbury?”</p>
-
-<p>“Those who are immoral? men and women who, as most
-of these Socialists, work in the spirit of Jesus and act (as a
-polemist would say) in the manner of Bradlaugh?—what is
-<i>their</i> belief?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Maddock.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, clearly,” answered Gildea smiling, “religion <i>with</i>
-superstition! The men of enthusiasm like Hawkesbury, and
-the men of morality like Judge Parker, are surely both of them
-right, and surely both of them wrong: right in their appreciation
-of the truth of one portion of the spiritual life, wrong in
-their ignorance of another portion. They both possess truth,
-and they both possess superstition.”</p>
-
-<p>“And what of a man like our friend Alcock here, who is
-ignorant of religion and more or less lax as regards morality?”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span></p>
-
-<p>“He too,” answered Gildea, “as Fitzgerald clearly demonstrated,
-is a victim of superstition. But he is not, for all that,
-without his belief, without his appreciation of truth. He believes
-in that portion of the spiritual life which we call intellect.
-Men like him have their enthusiasm, for which they are ready
-to suffer and do suffer all things; and that enthusiasm is the
-enthusiasm for that portion of truth which we call Science.”</p>
-
-<p>“And your Fitzgerald—is he too both right and wrong?”</p>
-
-<p>“Of course he is; for has he not both belief and negation?
-All belief is truth, not <i>the whole</i> truth, but <i>a part</i> of the truth.
-There is but one thing that is the whole truth.”</p>
-
-<p>“God?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, not God, for God does not include Nature, from
-which He is the outcome—not God, not Nature, but that which
-contains them both, Everything, the All!”</p>
-
-<p>“Pooh,” said Maddock, “flat Pantheism!”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>And suppose</i>,” cried Gildea, “<i>it were</i> Pot-<i>theism, if the
-thing is true</i>!” (He laughed outright.) “—That answer of
-Carlyle’s,” he said, “is immortal.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, it was Carlyle said it?” said Maddock, “I had
-forgotten.—And so,” he proceeded, “the secret is out, and
-Sir Horace Gildea ‘stands confessed a Pantheist in all his
-charms!’”</p>
-
-<p>“Two of the happy family still remain unaccounted for,”
-Gildea said, “although they too have not probably attained to
-perfect truth.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, that is you and I. As for me, I can describe myself
-without your aid. I believe in morality and religion, with a
-touch of superstition in both.”</p>
-
-<p>“Worse,” said Gildea, “worse!”</p>
-
-<p>“What, then?”</p>
-
-<p>“You believe in theology which is as bad a superstition as,
-what Judge Parker calls, ‘the calm blissful sea of pure <i>theistic</i>
-belief.’ (You notice how emphatic he is about his superstition
-and casual about his truth?)”</p>
-
-<p>“Stop a moment now, my bright Apollo, and explain to me,
-what you have not yet attempted to, what the superstition of
-Theism is?”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>What is Theism?</i>—‘It is a faith,’ answers our good
-Judge, ‘which is <i>the</i> faith of all others’ (that is to say the faith
-of Judge Parker and all the ‘celebrated unitarian ministers’),
-‘to be clung to, cherished and maintained as long as man exists—belief,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span>
-trust in, and love for the All-loving, All-righteous, All-wise
-Universal Spirit of God.’ Now observe that this faith,
-this unique faith of faiths, is ‘refreshing, and invigorating in
-its simplicity’—(as, we might add, is also its formulator, if we
-did not shun flippancy as we would the pest)—‘warm and
-glowing in its absolute unclouded devotion to, love for, and
-perfect trust in God alone—<i>proclaimed by</i> <span class="smcap">Nature</span>!’ O wise
-Judge, O upright Judge, O Judge much more elder than thy
-looks, where, when, and how, in the name of all observers of
-Nature from Darwin through Haeckel to Tennyson, did you
-discover therein either this love or righteousness of which you
-make such mention? ‘The struggle for existence and survival
-of the fittest,’ the parent of theistic righteousness and love!
-‘<i>Proclaimed by</i> <span class="smcap">Nature</span>!’—and Nature in italics! O immemorial
-phrase that eats up all the others even as Aaron’s
-rod swallowed up all the rods of the magicians!—Who, after
-this, would care to trouble himself with all the other potent
-items of this faith of faiths? The idea of God, God ‘the All-loving,
-All-righteous, All-wise Universal Spirit’ ‘originated in
-instinct,’ and is not the slow and painful growth of time?
-Think of the love of Jehovah! the righteousness of Baal! the
-wisdom of Moloch!—The beauty and sympathy and warmth of
-the theistic form of belief,” he added, “are recognizable as a
-half-hearted mixture of the clap-trap of Religion and Science—Superstition,
-which knows that it is naked, and sews fig-leaves
-together, and make itself an apron!”</p>
-
-<p>Maddock, however, could have no confidence in the expressed
-views of this man, from whose face the light of amusement,
-amusement at others and himself, seemed never to be
-absent long. There had, indeed, been moments when it
-required all Maddock’s intuition to prevent his perception
-rising in absolute revolt against what seemed Gildea’s flagrant
-insincerity: then his perception had said to him that this was
-but a youth, endowed with brilliant abilities, the mere exercise
-of which was a pleasure and satisfaction to him, caring too
-little for any one thing to owe it loyalty. Whereto his
-intuition had replied that this was not a youth but a man, and
-a man whose secret could not thus be read. And the feeling
-that Maddock had, once before that day, felt towards Gildea
-returned now with an intensity and strangeness that seemed to
-Maddock, when he afterwards considered it, as little short
-of wonderful. Maddock’s profundity was often beyond the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span>
-average, and herein indeed lay his secret, herein nestled “the
-heart of his mystery.”</p>
-
-<p>“And yet,” said Gildea, “here, as in the other case, the
-common-sense view of belief has, of course, its excellence. ‘To
-take nothing else,’ says the Judge, ‘the very idea of “space”
-and “distance” that astronomy has given us fills the mind
-with wonder and with awe, clothing nature with a sublimity, a
-majesty, and a beauty which, otherwise, we had never known.’
-For observe that <i>Space</i> and <i>Time</i>, these two inexhaustible ideas,
-are not, to our average intelligent secular view of things, the mere
-words that they are to the orthodox: they are realities thus far,
-that they help us to perceive that ‘there exists throughout
-space,—throughout the vast limitless universe,—motion, order,
-beauty; that there is behind all motion, all order, all beauty, a
-force that produces the motion, the order, and the beauty.’
-And further. They are realities thus far, that they help us to be
-(whatever Dr. Maddock, in a polemico-theological spirit, may
-declare) earnest in our life and earnest in our wish to bring
-home to others the truth of that life, a ‘most serious and
-difficult task!’ They help us to all this, and an unrecognized
-intuitional belief in the essence which, in other forms and
-other men whom we fail to appreciate, not to say understand, we
-condemn—our intuitional belief, I say, in the Faith, Hope, and
-Love, which are the great movers of the progress of Humanity
-both upward and onward, will not let the forms that portions of
-this belief may take in us make the whole grow cold, lifeless,
-petrified, but the beauty and melody of our acts will often be
-found to contradict the deformity and discord of our words.”</p>
-
-<p>“I confess, Sir Horace,” said Maddock, “that you are a
-puzzle to me. I really should not be surprised to see you some
-day walking side by side with the Judge, the best friends in
-the world!”</p>
-
-<p>“And perhaps,” said Gildea, “the Judge would not subsequently
-be surprised to see me doing the same with yourself!
-For that indeed is the only use of such poor creatures as I: we
-see the good in opponents and serve as links in the spiritual
-bridge of Humanity.”</p>
-
-<p>“I should very much like,” said Maddock, “to hear how you
-would abuse me to him. I think I see the urbane expression
-with which you would delight him by shewing how, in this
-ecclesiastical, metaphysical, theological polemist here, habemus
-confitentem asinum; and then turn upon him and say: ‘The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span>
-question that now arises, my dear Judge, is, has this man
-nothing but faults—has he no excellencies? does there
-remain, after the attack on him of so eminent a biblical critic
-as Judge Parker is, no residuum of real and vital truth? Let
-us see.’”</p>
-
-<p>“Doctor, Doctor,” said Gildea, “to make me laugh so, is
-cruel!”</p>
-
-<p>“You do not consider me,” said Maddock, “in the least.”</p>
-
-<p>They both laughed heartily.</p>
-
-<p>“And now,” said Maddock, “in order to complete the
-matter, tell me, what is <i>your</i> superstition? Here are Alcock
-and Parker with their respective superstitions of Atheism and
-Theism, of purely scientific and purely ethical progress. Here
-is Hawkesbury with his superstition about the unselfishness of
-the People and the practical neglect of Morality. Here is
-Fitzgerald with his superstitious belief in a Church whose
-splendid logical consistency will prove its ruin. Here am I, a
-member of a sect that more nearly approaches ideal Christianity
-than any other sect in existence, and is a logical absurdity—blessed
-with the superstition of theology and, worse, of polemical
-theology, with.... But I cannot express all my superstitions:
-they seem more in number than the hairs of my
-head!”</p>
-
-<p>“Let us say broadly, then, that Alcock and the Judge are
-those who have superstition <i>without</i>, and Fitzgerald, you, and to
-a certain degree Hawkesbury, those who have superstition <i>with</i>,
-Religion.”</p>
-
-<p>“And that you?”</p>
-
-<p>“And that <i>I</i> am he who unites in my proper person the
-superstitions of all with the actualities of none.”</p>
-
-<p>There was a pause. Then:</p>
-
-<p>“Sir Horace,” said Maddock, “I take you seriously. And
-I will confess that I would sooner, far sooner, be any one of us
-than you.—Verily and indeed,” he added, solemnly, “I cannot
-see why you should care to live.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nor yet,” said Gildea, “why I should care to die?”</p>
-
-<p>Maddock was possessed by sadness. The absolute, inevitable
-hopelessness of this man made him again turn faint and
-sick at heart.</p>
-
-<p>“Nor yet,” he said, “why you should care to die.”</p>
-
-<p>There was a long pause. Never again could Maddock be
-illuded into momentary misunderstanding of this man: he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span>
-now not only seen this strange soul laid bare before him and
-felt the influence of that sight, but had felt as if he had, as it
-were, almost received it into his own, almost made it a part of
-himself.</p>
-
-<p>At last:</p>
-
-<p>“I asked you to believe,” he said with a touch of wistfulness
-in face and tone, “that I was your true friend. You will perhaps,
-forgive me if I ... if I offer you the one token of it
-that seems left to me to offer. Some day—I cannot tell, but so
-I trust—you may care to think that, each night you close your
-eyes in sleep, there is one whose prayers for you are rising, as
-he believes, to the God and Father of us all, to bless and keep
-you, to lift up the light of his countenance upon you, and to
-give you peace.”</p>
-
-<p>The two men stood facing each other for a few moments in
-silence: then their hands met in a close, long clasp, and
-parted; and they turned, standing almost touching each other,
-looking out over the lovely scene of earth and water and sky.</p>
-
-<p>At last:</p>
-
-<p>“Those clouds,” said Gildea softly, “they have a peerless
-radiancy. One seems to understand how the men of the past
-days saw a spirit therein, and held converse with it with wonder
-and delight and awe. Those were days of a music and beauty
-and sweetness such as we shall never know again.”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>If not</i>,” said Maddock as softly,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent12">“<i>if not the calm</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>of its early mountainous shore,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>yet a solemn peace of its own.</i>”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>A footstep was heard behind them. It was Edgar, come to
-say that Mrs. and Miss Medwin had arrived and were up in
-the drawing-room with Mr. Alcock.</p>
-
-<p>Gildea stepped out onto the lawn.</p>
-
-<p>“Let us go up by the balcony,” he said to Maddock.</p>
-
-<h3 id="DAWNWARDS_VI">VI.</h3>
-
-<p>Mrs. Medwin was the only native-born australian lady who
-was “good style.” So at least a Governor’s wife, about the
-“goodness” of whose “style” there could be no question, had
-declared. It was not, this Governor’s wife had explained, that
-there were no ladies in Australia, (There were not however
-many, par parenthèse, and such style as they had was at best
-but second-rate american), but they none of them had that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span>
-manner of dressing, moving, and speaking which characterizes
-what (to use this rather objectional term again, for
-want of a better) we call “good style.” This Governor’s wife,
-with her usual delicate feminine instinct, had felt on the occasion
-of this now socially celebrated description of Mrs.
-Medwin, that she had not quite satisfied herself, that the
-description did not contain the truth, all the truth, and
-nothing but the truth, of the matter; and she was right, it
-did not. Mrs. Medwin undoubtedly possessed that serene
-refinement of movement and speech which go so far to making
-up that all but defunct individuality, a “lady,” but she was
-wanting in the final gift of a “lady,” social charm. The flower
-was scentless, or rather the scent it had was of another description.
-Her life had not, indeed, been favourable to the
-development of this final gift. She had been married early, a
-ready enough victim to the convenience of her family, to a
-man with whom she had little in common and much in opposition.
-He was liked by none and feared by all those who had
-any personal dealings with him: his savage outbursts of passion
-recalled to memory the dark stories that were told of his
-father who had, as the Australians euphemistically put it, come
-out at the government expense. But she, having calmly decided
-to accept Medwin and life with him, set herself by the sheer
-intrepidity of her sweet high beauty, to dominate them. She
-succeeded. And she won, not only the control, but the deep,
-admiring love, of the man. Then came the catastrophe which
-those who knew him had prophesied and recanted. In one of
-his savage outbursts of passion, he struck her. The blow was a
-cruel one and its results life-long. Much as she then suffered
-in body and soul, she could have no other feeling for him than
-that of pity. For days he would take no food, but sat in a chair
-outside her door, like a dog that waits in silence on an idolized
-master; and, when he was first permitted to enter, flung himself
-onto his knees by the bedside, sobbing and moaning and
-covering her hand with kisses. And she, who had had little or
-no care for him before, save as the principal incident in her
-life, now to her own surprise found that from out this appalling
-misery was born affection for him and even love. Her
-life from then onwards had been spent in a struggle far more
-terrible than that which she had waged with him. At first the
-idea of wasting away inch by inch on a diseased sick-bed
-almost overwhelmed her: she longed, she prayed for death.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span>
-But death did not come; and then her spiritual pride began to
-reassert itself, and, like the captain of a battered ship, she once
-more thought how she could rule these waters that had ruled
-her. For long it seemed as if the effort would be too much for
-her: she said to herself one sleepless horrible night that she was
-being consumed alive. Her very latest gift seemed but as an
-added thorn to her; for now that she had affection and even love,
-she had also jealousy. The spell of her sweet, fearless health
-and strength and beauty was passed from him save as a
-memory: his love, deepened it might be by his abiding
-remorse, was (as she thought) deprived of that admiration
-which had been her first and strongest hold on him. Nothing
-more pitiful, than to see the womanliness in her assert itself
-against her pride and speak in jealousy! With wonderful
-intuition, however, she divined and with wonderful determination
-carried out, what was the only plan of still keeping for
-herself his admiration. She, who since she had married him
-had not given his business affairs a thought, now gave herself
-up to the mastery of them. She had herself taught all arithmetic
-thoroughly, and, in little less than three years after her misfortune,
-knew more of all his business affairs than he did himself.
-And more. She stirred up in him the ambition to become the
-leader of that great amorphous section of colonial society of
-which he was a member, the land-owners, the “squatters.” She
-had a certain liking for society, and when she was in England
-went into it as much as her extremely delicate health would permit
-her: in Australia, however, where, as she said, there was no
-society, or only of a sort which she did not like, she yet entertained
-a good deal, as she wished her husband to be popular
-in view of his entering parliament and attempting to organize
-his party. But her entertainment was more after the fashion
-of a listless social empress than an interested hostess: she did
-not care enough about these people to make, what would have
-been to her, a painful physical effort to attract them. She had
-indeed something of the feeling of one of the old aristocrats
-forced by the pressure of the time to open their houses to the
-Middle-class; she acknowledged the salute of her guests, and
-provided them with fine rooms, music, amusement, foods and
-drinks, and what more could they want? Her coldness was
-generally ascribed to her notorious ill-health, but the young
-people felt instinctively that she condemned them, and were
-not drawn to her. Between her and Gildea, however, there<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span>
-was an understanding that was not without either charm or
-brightness to both. He understood her, and she half-felt this
-and, never having been really understood before, was in a way
-pleased at it and drawn to him. She amused him and at
-times, thanks to the pity with which her sweet courage inspired
-him, affected him. He was not too without respect for her
-intuitional capacities. He said once to Sydney Medwin, who
-was complaining that his mother was fifty years behind the
-time, (Mrs. Medwin supported her husband in his views for
-their elder son), that, on the contrary, she was fifty years
-before; for she was the only person he had met or heard of in
-the Colony who clearly saw that the Land Question was upon
-them. Mrs. Medwin indeed, as has been noticed, saw that
-the attempt of the Australian land-owners to repeat the performance
-of those of England and form a dominant aristocracy,
-would be met with keen opposition, and that the only hope of
-success lay in creating out of an amorphous class a party, and
-organizing it. The feeling of possession and caste had grown a
-strong one in her, in her more or less absorbed in the life of her
-husband. Hers, then, with all its powers of passionate attachment
-to an individual, was one of those not frequent female souls
-that see beyond a man into the cause which he represents.
-Her elder son she looked upon as a failure, as useless, as
-worth no more than making behave himself. Her younger
-son, Stephen, she was training with some care, and to him the
-far greater bulk of his father’s wealth and property was at
-present destined. Miss Medwin, whom Mrs. Medwin called
-her niece, and who called Mr. and Mrs. Medwin respectively
-uncle and aunt, but who was in reality no such relation, being
-the daughter of Mr. Medwin’s father’s brother’s son; of Miss
-Medwin it will perhaps be enough to state, that the report
-which Gildea had unexpectedly received of her from the
-Private Enquiry Office was correct, and that she was the
-possessor of a moderate fortune who had come out to Australia,
-half for a change from her English life of which she was
-weary, half in search of an old schoolfellow to whom she was
-much attached.</p>
-
-<p>Gildea and Maddock stepped out together along the lawn
-and mounted the steps that led up to the sitting-room
-balcony. The sunlight, intercepted by an angle of the house,
-covered half of this portion of it, almost so exactly half that
-the glass door, open in the middle of the bay window, was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span>
-partly in the sun and partly in the shade. As they reached the
-balcony, Gildea, with the gesture of a courteous host, indicated
-to Maddock to enter first, but he, with the no less courteous
-gesture of a guest, refused and returned the indication. Gildea
-stepped into the open doorway and, as he stood there for a
-moment with the sunlight and shade playing upon him, met
-the gaze of Miss Medwin, seated upright, looking almost
-proudly before her. Behind her was the dark red of the curtain
-with its subdued white of delicately wrought muslin. Two rays
-of sunlight lay along the rich variegated colours of the carpet,
-diffusing a little light about her. She was very beautiful.
-They had recognized one another at once. And more. They
-both were undergoing that feeling of half-forgotten recollection
-that affects us with such unprepared and mystic strangeness.
-Had they, then, seen one another before that day when
-she had almost ridden over him under the Domain trees?
-had they met in some way similar to their meeting now? At
-such moments the past, the present, and the future, all half
-unknown, seem to join hands, and kiss, and part with eyes
-dimmed with a regretless regret.</p>
-
-<p>It had passed in a few moments. Gildea, with something
-that might be called a sudden freak of tact, stepped into the
-room, turning a quite self-possessed face to Mrs. Medwin. She
-was sitting on a sofa dispensing serene little nothings to
-Alcock, whose face and manner beamed with social polish.
-Gildea came straight to her and made his greetings with
-winning grace: then, obeying a slight gesture of hers, moved
-aside and she introduced him to her niece, Miss Medwin.
-With the same winning grace, head courteously bowed, he
-stepped to Miss Medwin, and lightly raised the hand she held
-up to him. Maddock was greeting Mrs. Medwin.</p>
-
-<p>“I think,” said Gildea smiling slightly, “I think, Miss Medwin,
-that we are not quite strangers.”</p>
-
-<p>“And how is Mrs. Maddock?” asked Mrs. Medwin, “I hope
-she is quite well.” Gildea sat down in a chair by Miss Medwin.</p>
-
-<p>“No,” answered Miss Medwin gravely, “I was careless
-enough to have almost ridden onto you.”</p>
-
-<p>“The carelessness was mine. I was dreaming. Day-dreamers
-should be awakened.” Maddock was assuring Mrs. Medwin
-that Mrs. Maddock was in excellent health, and at this very
-moment enjoying herself quite satisfactorily without the society
-of her lord and master.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span></p>
-
-<p>“Indeed,” said Mrs. Medwin, “I hope we shall be able to
-see her before we leave Sydney. We are stopping at Winslow’s.”</p>
-
-<p>“That,” Miss Medwin said gravely again, “seems to me to
-depend a good deal on the day.”</p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Medwin is <i>with</i> you, Mrs. Medwin?” interrogated
-Alcock with his politest manner, “I understood that I
-should not have the pleasure of seeing him till monday or
-tuesday?”</p>
-
-<p>“It is true,” said Gildea, “that to-day the reality of things is
-so troubling to the peace and pleasure of many of us, that it
-is cruel to wake us from our dreams.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh no!” said Mrs. Medwin with her usual unruffled
-serenity, “Mr. Medwin is not coming up till tuesday or
-perhaps wednesday.”</p>
-
-<p>A swift sense of the humour of a social scene like this,
-where the tendency of things is for the dramatis personæ to
-beat unlimited time with musical voices, graceful gestures, and
-a charming expression of countenance, dawned upon Gildea
-as a memory of almost distant days. The poetry of society is
-mostly expended in its common-places. To be able to do this
-is an art, an art of which provincial and colonial society is
-ignorant. Hence Gildea’s sense of the humour of the present
-scene was as an almost distant memory. “Here,” he thought,
-“we have four excellent musicians who would make the most
-charmingly meaningless quartet possible, Alcock being reduced
-to the part of accidental audience.” It was not, of course,
-that Gildea’s talk with Miss Medwin was social time-beating:
-it was, rather, spiritual time-beating, rendered in a manner that
-partook of the social. Miss Medwin had not recovered from
-the to her strange sensations of this second sudden meeting
-with him: she was neither as consummate a master of her
-emotions as he was, nor careful of becoming one, nor yet
-was she prepared, as he was, for their meeting: she was
-left by it as one is who has had some swift revelation of good
-or evil in himself—considering himself if he really was this, is
-that, and will be something that contains them both. The
-individualities of other men she had known had touched her
-as much, or almost as much, as his had on that day in the
-Domain, but none had ever entered into her and, as it were,
-“blown a thrilling summons to her will” as his had, as he stood
-looking at her in the shadowy sunlit doorway there. And her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span>
-will had answered that summons, and instantaneously. To him
-that sight of her, sitting upright, looking almost proudly before
-her, was ever to be as the sight of an Antigone, one who felt
-“it was better not to be than not be noble,” the depth of
-whose scorn for unworthiness was equal to her love, high as
-the everlasting hills, deep as the unplumbed sea.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” she said, “it is sometimes cruel to wake us from our
-dreams, and yet it is best, I think.”</p>
-
-<p>“—You think it is best to modify our poetry with prose?
-Was it better to have awakened Shelley, and given us his
-‘Prometheus’ with wooden limbs of a day’s social dogmatism,
-than to have let him make delicate music in the italian woods
-and by the italian shores, for ever sweet and fair?”</p>
-
-<p>“So he told me,” said Alcock, “and I was very glad to hear
-it. The interests of all wealth, whether in land or in money, is
-identic. But we have no organization.—And Labour,” he
-added with a look to Maddock, “as Mr. Hawkesbury just told
-us, is organizing, if it is not already organized.”</p>
-
-<p>If it had been possible for Mrs. Medwin to be amazed at
-anything, she would have been amazed at this. Hawkesbury
-had a few years ago been an employé on one of Medwin’s
-stations, the very station to which she was now on her road.
-This was a reflection which was positively annoying to her.
-“It would,” she had once simply remarked, “have been as
-well perhaps, if he had eaten some poisoned meat when he was
-there, as they used to say the troublesome blacks did. He is
-a danger to society.” Sydney Medwin, who liked to do his
-best to ruffle his mother’s serenity now and then, used
-not unfrequently to speak in praise of Hawkesbury (his
-friend Hawkesbury, a clever fellow too, and who would
-make his mark out here yet!) and had once even, as Gildea
-told Maddock, offered to introduce him to her. “You know,
-Sydney,” said Mrs. Medwin simply, “I am not interested in
-Mr. Hawkesbury. If you like to make up a shooting-party at
-Lathong,” (a station of Medwin’s in Victoria), “with all the
-men on the station, I daresay he would be pleased to join
-you.”—What, then, was the meaning of Mr. Alcock’s remark
-that this firebrand socialist, this impertinent journalist and
-pamphleteer, had been <i>just telling</i> something to Mr. Alcock,
-Dr. Maddock, and presumably Sir Horace?</p>
-
-<p>“I’m sure,” said Alcock with his politest manner again,
-“that we all of us cannot be too—too pleased to have found a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span>
-lady who realized this, and could help us to what we so much
-want—a ... a sort of general rallying-point.—Nothing,” he proceeded,
-“struck me so much in England as the use that the
-political parties made of their social gatherings, and they tell
-me that this was much more the case once than it is at
-present.” Alcock found a certain amount of difficulty in
-saying that he thought women might, after all, be made of
-some use in political life, in a manner that should be pleasing
-to <i>this</i> woman.</p>
-
-<p>The talk progressed more or less easily, Maddock, with a
-humorous perception of the effect Alcock’s innocent allusion
-to Hawkesbury had produced on Mrs. Medwin, playing the
-part of conversational mediator between the two.</p>
-
-<p>“You are not, then,” said Gildea, in answer to a remark of
-Miss Medwin’s, “in sympathy with dreams and dreamers?”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” she answered shaking her head, “not if they take
-their dreams for realities. It is just, I think, because we have
-been dreaming so long and dreaming so much, that our waking
-is so miserable.—You speak of prose and poetry,” she continued,
-turning her head a little and looking at him, “as if the
-prose had something disagreeable in it. Well, so it may have—to
-the dreamers. I too am a dreamer, of course, in my
-way; but I dream about the earth and the things of the earth,
-and so my dreams are real as the wind is real, or the sunlight,
-or the moonlight, or the light of the stars, none of which fear
-the contact of the earth or the water. But these people seem
-to me to dream of the things of heaven, filling all space with
-them. But space is empty—at any rate of things like theirs.”</p>
-
-<p>“You do not believe,” he said, “as Taine does, that ‘at
-bottom there is nothing truly sweet and beautiful in our life
-but our dreams?’”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” she said, “yes and no! But what does it matter
-<i>what</i> I believe? I have no opinion of my own in this way.
-You would make me dogmatic. Now I shall always try not to
-be dogmatic. I rebel against defining things, especially things
-that I like; they are never the same afterwards. But I am
-often doing this, and I have to suffer for it. This comes of
-being born in an age which can describe everything and do
-nothing.—You see, you make me petulant!”</p>
-
-<p>It flashed across Gildea’s mind as she finished speaking that
-there was a great difference between the manner of his talk
-with this girl and with that bright intelligent girl in Melbourne.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span>
-He perceived the difference, and the greatness of the difference,
-but not much farther. It was many years, and in point
-of spiritual time many ages, since Gildea had been blind to the
-fact that another nature was influencing and being influenced
-by his own with the force of fatality. It is the distinguishing
-mark of the moderns that they are not blind in this respect.
-None of Shakspere’s men, not even the intellectual Hamlet,
-get beyond a suspicion that Fate is playing upon them. The
-chief cause of Hamlet’s delay lies in this suspicion and his
-antagonism to it: the others submit blindly, and only recognise
-fatality when the “wheel has come full circle,” but <i>the process</i>
-of fatality is all unknown to them, not even a mystery. Miss
-Medwin too was in the same state as Gildea but even deeper
-in it. She spoke to him as she had never spoken to anyone
-else in her life, as to a comrade, without leaning, without supporting,
-with complete simplicity. The spell that compels a
-mutual truthfulness is the perception that you understand and
-are understood.</p>
-
-<p>“I see,” he said, “that <i>you</i> complain of your age because
-its senses are deranged, and idlers like me because the gifts
-that it assigns to the doers, as opposed to the thinkers, are
-not gold but tinsel.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no,” she said, “I do not complain of my age! If I
-complained of anything, it would be of myself who am unfit
-for my age. And I do not think that the gifts of our actions
-are tinsel.”</p>
-
-<p>“Perhaps you are right, and the fault is mine because <i>my</i>
-senses are deranged?”</p>
-
-<p>“There is great room for action now, as it seems to me. If
-a man appeared to-morrow with the secret of attraction in him—the
-secret that Napoleon had or Byron—he would control us
-as much as they did. They are ours too, these men.”</p>
-
-<p>“But we think too much? we can describe everything, and
-do nothing?”</p>
-
-<p>“I do not know,” she said, “I have no opinion!”</p>
-
-<p>“Alice,” said Mrs. Medwin.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, aunt,” answered Miss Medwin.</p>
-
-<p>“Will you please make the tea?” she said.</p>
-
-<p>Miss Medwin rose at once, Gildea rising too, smiling. It
-was Mrs. Medwin’s peculiar charm that, at certain apparently
-eccentric moments, she would speak and act with the pretty
-spontaneous sweetness of a young girl. This was the scent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span>
-this wonderful flower had retained, despite all the terrible heats
-of the noontide and frosts of the dawn that had fallen upon
-its life. She had spoken in this manner now.</p>
-
-<p>Miss Medwin went behind the tea-table which Edgar had
-just brought in and on which he was placing the bright silver
-tea-urn, and the water-can with its blue-violet-flamed spirit-lamp;
-then, at a nod from Gildea, disappeared. Miss Medwin
-poured out a cup of tea which Gildea took to Mrs. Medwin,
-returning for the milk and sugar, while Miss Medwin took the
-second cup to Maddock, who received it with suave and
-charming thanks. Mrs. Medwin thanked Gildea, who passed
-on with the milk and sugar to Maddock, and, as he returned
-to the tea-table for the cakes and biscuits, passed Miss Medwin
-with the third cup on her way to Alcock. Alcock received her
-with thanks profuse and jocular.</p>
-
-<p>“Do you take milk and sugar?” asked Miss Medwin.</p>
-
-<p>“No, no, thank you, Miss Medwin,” returned Alcock, “I
-take neither!”</p>
-
-<p>Gildea arrived, with a plate of cakes in one hand and a plate
-of biscuits in the other. Mrs. Medwin recognised in the
-biscuits those of a sort to which she was somewhat addicted,
-and divined that Gildea had noticed the fact.</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you, Sir Horace,” she said, with her manner of
-pretty spontaneous sweetness, “And presently Alice shall
-play for you. I know you will find her style of playing a
-treat.”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Horace made a suitable reply and passed on with the
-cakes and biscuits. Mrs. Medwin and Maddock began to talk
-together, Alcock playing the part of silent member.</p>
-
-<p>“There is your tea,” Miss Medwin said to Gildea as he
-came back to the tea-table. She was standing with her own
-cup in her hand as if about to move away to a seat. Gildea
-proffered the biscuits. She took one. He put down the
-plates and took up his cup.</p>
-
-<p>“You are an epicure in tea,” she said, sipping a little of hers
-from her tea-spoon, “are you not?”</p>
-
-<p>“I do not know,” he answered with a slightly amused look,
-“but I believe that the Russians are the only people in Europe
-who understand it.”</p>
-
-<p>“They take neither sugar nor milk, do they? and a slice of
-lemon floating in the tea?”</p>
-
-<p>They were moving back to their places. He assented.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span></p>
-
-<p>“And who are the only people in Europe who understand
-coffee?” she asked.</p>
-
-<p>“Undoubtedly the French.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah, you mean the café au lait—with the milk and coffee
-both boiling and poured in together? I like it that way, but
-not with too much milk. We had a french cook once who
-used to make it for us, and, as I liked it, of course I found out
-how to make it myself.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” he said, “certainly coffee with cold milk is a barbarism;
-but the shape in which I like coffee best is as, what
-the French call, café noir.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss Medwin said she had never seen it in that way, and, in
-answer to Gildea’s slight expression of surprise, explained that
-she had never been in France. Gildea described the café noir
-and the proper manner in which to drink it.</p>
-
-<p>“You fill the spoon with cognac,” he said, “into which you
-put a lump of sugar—In France the sugar is in little thin slabs,
-not, as with us, in squares—and then you set the cognac alight.
-This melts down the sugar and, when all the spirit is burnt up,
-except that which saturates the sugar, and goes out, you put in
-your spoon. The flavour of burnt sugar and cognac is pleasant.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is indeed, Sir Horace,” said Alcock, tired of playing the
-part of silent member in the other conversation, “I drank it
-that way myself in Paris. A friend of mine, an American told
-me of it. Paris is a very pleasant place. You have a treat in
-store for you, going there, Miss Medwin.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” she answered, “I should like to go to Paris; the
-Louvre is there.”</p>
-
-<p>“A very fine collection,” said Alcock, “I was much struck
-with it! Unfortunately all the best works of art are now either
-in collections, or so expensive that they are out of the reach of
-us Australians who have claims upon us more pressing. You
-saw the Picture Gallery in Melbourne?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, I saw it. I think it is rather painful. I liked the
-Library better.”</p>
-
-<p>“The building—the room, you mean?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, I meant the books. I used to go and sit there and
-read.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh indeed?” said Alcock. “And what now do you think
-of the Picture Gallery here?”</p>
-
-<p>“Alice,” said Mrs. Medwin, “you are not to say! I won’t have
-you say that the things in Sydney are better than in Melbourne!”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span></p>
-
-<p>“Very well, aunt,” said Alice, “then I will not say it.”</p>
-
-<p>“And now,” said Mrs. Medwin, “I want you to play for
-us.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss Medwin rose at once with a look for the piano, which
-was on the other side of the curtains. Both she and Gildea
-were amused and delighted by Mrs. Medwin’s characteristic
-interruption and command: Maddock was amused: even
-Alcock, who did not yet know her ways, was too much influenced
-by the charm of this her happiest manner to think it
-rude or imperious. “She is such an invalid,” he said, recounting
-this incident as an anecdote to a friend of his at the Melbourne
-Club, “and rules everyone about her like a little
-empress. But her manner is irresistible, really irresistible; and
-it doesn’t offend you in the least—in fact you rather like it.
-There is no woman in Melbourne who could help us to consolidate
-a party in the english social manner as <i>she</i> could.
-And I really attach—I really do!—considerable importance to
-the idea.” Such was the subsequent expression of the thoughts
-which were passing through the mind of Alcock as Gildea,
-having held back the curtain for Miss Medwin to pass, was
-opening the piano for her. Mrs. Medwin sat in serene unconsciousness
-of the possibility of her manners being considered as
-otherwise than her own, and would have been surprised if she
-had heard that anyone thought they were open to question.</p>
-
-<p>“Is there any piece, aunt,” asked Miss Medwin, bending
-back so as to see Mrs. Medwin through the curtains, “that you
-would like me to play?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh no!” Mrs. Medwin said, “Why, I wanted you to play
-for Sir Horace, not for me!”</p>
-
-<p>Miss Medwin smiled assent, and, after a few moments’
-pause to consider what piece she would play and to collect her
-thoughts, began. The piece was the one which she considered
-would most please her audience, and which of course she knew.
-It was Chopin’s Eleventh Nocturne. It suited her humour at
-many times, but particularly at the present. The Nocturne is
-divided into two parts: passionate and half-weary wandering,
-and rest in which passion is merged in peace. To her it conjured
-up the vision of a twilight road winding up between
-woody rolling fields and a plantation. The dark figure of the
-man, whose passionate and half-weary wandering is here expressing
-itself, is coming slowly up the road. Low down and
-far away behind the close straight stems of the plantation lie a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span>
-few pallid veins of sunset light. The shadows are stealing
-swiftly around him. He is near to hopelessness, near to the
-wish to</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent4">lie down like a tired child,</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">and weep away the life of care</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">which he has borne and yet must bear:</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">but passion and yearning are still too strong in him for self-abandonment.
-Then he hears sounds—a strain of music and
-voices—the nuns or monks perhaps, singing an evening hymn to
-the blessèd Mary, mother of passion and of peace! He moves
-on slowly and softly, listening. His hopelessness, his weariness
-are soothed into rest: trust enters into him, trust in the aims of
-life, that general life in which his own is now merged, even as
-the yearning of passion is lost in the sweetness of peace....</p>
-
-<p>When she had finished, there was a long pause, and then
-Gildea thanked her for the pleasure she had given him. Mrs.
-Medwin and Maddock began to speak of the piece, Maddock
-expressing his pleasure at it and his admiration for Miss
-Medwin’s playing.</p>
-
-<p>“You are, then, a lover of this Chopin?” said Gildea to
-Miss Medwin. “But he is not your Master, as you would say?”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” she answered, “he is not my Master.—I suppose you
-mean Beethoven by that?” she added, looking up at him. He
-assented.</p>
-
-<p>“And yet,” she said, “I cannot somehow call even him
-Master. I do not love music as I ought to do—especially
-Beethoven and Wagner. They are great, these men, very great,
-but I cannot lose myself in their spirit as I should do. I often
-feel this.”</p>
-
-<p>“It was one of Heine’s few fantastic sayings,” said Gildea,
-“that Chopin was the Raphael of the piano, and indeed a
-piece like this, or the stately opening of the Thirteenth Nocturne—You
-remember it?” (She assented)—“or the Marche
-Funèbre, help to see what he meant; but to call him a Raphael
-seems to me inapt. No Raphael, for instance, would have
-dreamed of so entirely giving himself up to the influence of
-his passion as Chopin does. Surely it is not in <i>his</i> spirit that
-you can lose yourself?”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” she said, “less than in Beethoven’s. But perhaps
-Heine only meant his expression about Chopin comparatively.
-Chopin, you remember, is the only great composer who
-devoted himself to the piano. Certainly he is a master of it,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span>
-but his style of art is not like Raphael’s—at least so far as I
-know of Raphael.”</p>
-
-<p>They came back talking into the other room, where Gildea,
-from a glance at Mrs. Medwin’s face, perceived that she now
-wished them to go down to the yacht. In a few minutes he
-brought the conversation round to the subject and, having
-asked and she having expressed her wish, the party was presently
-crossing the lawn on its way down to the small landing-stage,
-close to which the “Petrel” had now been brought in.
-Mrs. Medwin, between Maddock and Alcock, was some yards
-ahead of Gildea and Miss Medwin who were following them.</p>
-
-<p>“You did not know,” Gildea was saying to her, “that Mr.
-Hawkesbury was a friend of mine? He has been having
-lunch with us, and only just went away before you arrived.
-He, and another friend of mine whom you perhaps have met
-in Melbourne, Mr. Fitzgerald—No?—were unable to stay.”</p>
-
-<p>“So I supposed,” said Miss Medwin, “or something like
-that.—You do not perhaps know,” she added, “that my aunt
-has a dislike for him that really almost amounts to antipathy?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Gildea, “I was aware of it: his social opinions
-are too much for her, and Sydney Medwin annoys her by constantly
-mentioning both them and him. A meeting would
-have been awkward indeed, but I made my calculations carefully,
-and I should have regretted not giving my friend Fitzgerald
-the opportunity of making Hawkesbury’s acquaintance.
-In a few days one will be going due north and the other due
-south, but I hope they will meet again later on. Two more
-charming examples of the two species of enthusiast it would be
-hard to find.”</p>
-
-<p>“What do you call the two species?”</p>
-
-<p>“The enthusiast of heat and the enthusiast of light: both
-are to me equally beautiful, equally charming!”</p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Hawkesbury, then,” she said, “is the enthusiast of heat?
-I have never known any man so much in earnest as he is. He
-seems to understand nothing but devotion or abhorrence; and
-yet how well he generally conceals this from those whom he
-thinks unworthy of the knowledge of it! His patience and
-courtesy have often astonished and filled me with admiration. I
-have heard him arguing with a stupid opponent, and I have
-heard him addressing a crowd. His self-restraint, his clearness,
-were simply wonderful. Has he ever spoken to you of
-his friend and Master, as he says,—James Holden?”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span></p>
-
-<p>“No,” answered Gildea, “but I happen to have seen
-Holden myself.—But here we are!”</p>
-
-<p>Alcock from the deck and Maddock from the shore had assisted
-Mrs. Medwin over the plank into the “Petrel,” and now
-Miss Medwin, after shaking hands, expressing her regrets that he
-could not come, and saying good-bye to Maddock, followed.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Medwin, Miss Medwin, Alcock and Gildea gathered
-opposite Maddock, with whom they talked while the ropes
-were being cast loose and the yacht got ready for starting.
-Then, as she glided away, bending slightly as the wind caught
-and filled her sails, Maddock took off his hat and stood bare-headed,
-bowing and waving farewell.</p>
-
-<p>A more charming day for such a trip, it would have been
-hard to choose. The air was warmer than in the morning, but
-the breeze was still strong enough to prevent the volumes of
-foul smoke which issued from the funnels of the harbour
-steamers from polluting the air and spoiling the view. The
-“Petrel” made straight for the main channel of the harbour in
-the direction of the Heads.</p>
-
-<p>While Gildea was away talking with his skipper about the
-arrangements that had been made for the trip, the other three
-passengers moved about looking at the yacht, praising and
-admiring its neatness and cleanness. And it was worthy too
-both of the praise and admiration which they bestowed on its
-general completeness, that namely of silence, and of the praise
-and admiration which they who were skilled in such matters
-bestowed on its sailing-powers.</p>
-
-<p>Presently Gildea rejoined them, and the conversation flowed
-on lightly and pleasantly.</p>
-
-<p>“I notice,” said Miss Medwin, “that you carry very little gear
-up aloft. Your masts too are unusually tall, are they not?”</p>
-
-<p>Gildea gave a pleased smile.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” he said, “they call her the ghost yacht at Cowes. I
-use as little hempen rope as I can. When the great point is
-speed, every extra inch that you give to the prise of the wind
-is of importance. The steel, you see, does not offer half as
-much resistance as the ordinary hempen rope. Besides which,
-I have in several cases done away with a rope altogether where
-I believed one, if properly handled, could do for two.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss Medwin, who knew the rigging and handling of a sailing-ship
-fairly well, asked for an explanation of how one or two
-things were done, which he gave her with a certain pleasure.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span></p>
-
-<p>“And what,” she said, “do your sailors think of your alterations?”</p>
-
-<p>He laughed.</p>
-
-<p>“They say the Old Man—that is my name with them—”</p>
-
-<p>“It is the name of all skippers with their sailors, is it
-not?” she asked smiling.</p>
-
-<p>He assented.</p>
-
-<p>“—They say, or rather used to say, that I had a twist that
-way. The conservatism of sailors and builders as regards ships
-is quite wonderful. Imagine that, when they came to build iron
-sailing ships instead of wood, they actually had and have the
-stupidity to put up masts of the same circumference as the
-old wooden ones, although thereby they gain no extra strength,
-and expose square yards on yards needlessly to the prise of
-the wind! I would venture to say that this alone makes a
-difference of three or four knots per hour in a head wind to
-the speed of the vessel.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss Medwin thought Gildea more charming in his capacity
-of intelligent amateur captain than as consummate master of
-things social. They moved down together towards the stern,
-and stood there talking and looking forward. Mrs. Medwin
-and Alcock were standing together talking a little way in front
-of them. Then Edgar appeared with seats and rugs, which he
-offered to Mrs. Medwin and Alcock, who sat down, Mrs.
-Medwin with a rug over her knees, and then came aft to the
-other two, who accepted two chairs, but for the present
-remained standing as they talked.</p>
-
-<p>Presently there came a pause in the conversation and Miss
-Medwin sat down, Gildea following suit. The pause became a
-silence. At last he broke it.</p>
-
-<p>“You have noticed,” he said, “how different is the effect on
-you of the sea, in a steamer and in a boat?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” she said, “I have noticed it. The steamer goes its
-own determined way, breaking its sympathy with winds and
-waters, and you—you are so high up that you cannot mingle in
-the being of the spirits, the breathings of their lips, the wavings
-of their hands, the tossings of their hair.”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Where</i>,” he said smiling,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">“<i>where the wild white horses play,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent0"><i>champ and chafe and toss in the spray.</i>”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>She smiled in turn. She was looking before her across the
-sunny rolling billows to where, against some high brown jagged<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span>
-rocks, the foam-mantle of the breakers rose ever silently and
-fell. She was breathing in gently and serenely the delight of
-the sea, the bright breeze, the movement of the yacht, the
-divine blue free expansion of the clouds and skies. There
-was a silence.</p>
-
-<p>“You are not fond of steamers, then?” he asked with a
-side-look.</p>
-
-<p>“No,” she said, “except in rough weather, and then I too
-feel the elation of my kind,—the frail race of men which can
-yet dominate the winds and waters and make their paths along
-the neck of the untameable sea.—You do not know,” she
-added, leaving her extraneous delight for a moment and looking
-at him with a touch of self-amusement, “you do not know
-how I swell with pride when I watch a great man-of-war sailing
-on and on with such serene confidence, dominating the expanse
-of water like a thing of self-evident strength and beauty. I
-remember once making sand-forts with some children in
-England in a little rock-girt cove, and suddenly I looked up
-and there, almost filling our narrow horizon, was a great white
-troop-ship passing close to the shore. It struck me quite dumb
-for a moment; and then I began to applaud and shout like a
-Bacchant, the children following suit.” She turned her face
-away again, laughing, looking here and there, delighting again
-in what she felt and saw.</p>
-
-<p>“You are a true daughter of kindly men,” he said, laughing
-too, all suspicion of mockery passed away from look and tone.
-There was another silence. Gildea was beginning to perceive
-in himself a feeling he had never felt before, the feeling that he
-was in the presence and even in the influence of a girl-woman,
-(such was the idea presented to him), of a spiritual force as
-consummate as, but wholly differing from, his own. In a few
-moments he had recognized this, and by a wonderful stroke of
-intuition divined the meaning of it. It partook of the nature
-of a revelation. He seemed to see all his past life in a new
-light. He felt that she—she, this woman, this girl, this child
-here—had, by some unknown wonderful means, won the true
-talisman of life, that talisman whose omnipotence is perpetuity.
-It was, then, possible, after all, to combine perfect knowledge
-of life with the radiant joy and peace of perfect trust in it!—It
-partook of the nature of a revelation and, to second thoughts,
-of a delusion. His lip curled: he almost despised himself for
-the swift speed with which a suddenly begotten hope had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span>
-leaped to a birth whose form and pressure was but the mask of
-credulity. “There has been no man,” he said to himself,
-“save Goethe, who knew what life was and yet could have a
-weariless joy in it. Carlyle well said that this man was to
-have no imitators or successors.—<i>Nostra vita a che val? solo a
-spregiarla.</i>” And yet the idea of a new life, a life wherein
-might be found something more than sweet resignation,
-hedonistic merely or even optimistic, but supplying thought,
-action, and speech with a motive-power whose strength should
-be in its truth—the idea would not be shaken off by mere
-self-contempt at credulity in it.</p>
-
-<p>“To tell you the truth,” he said to her, “I could almost envy
-you your pure free joy in things.”</p>
-
-<p>She looked at him, surprise passing swiftly into serene observation.</p>
-
-<p>“What troubles you,” she said, “that you should not have
-it yourself?”</p>
-
-<p>He smiled slightly as he answered her.</p>
-
-<p>“Pleasure, however sweet, however clear, is not joy.—And
-yet,” he added quickly, “I would not change my pleasure for
-your joy.”</p>
-
-<p>“No?”</p>
-
-<p>“A child has joy, a man has pleasure: joy, then, is a step
-backward. It may excel in height, as we should say, but
-breadth is the finer quality. The mountains are noble, but the
-sea, encompassing all lands, is great.”</p>
-
-<p>“The sea also is deep, it has its valleys whose shadow is
-nadir to the zenith peaks and light. I will not grant you your
-simile. You must not mock at joy, for joy is the gift not
-only of childhood which precedes, but of maturity which follows,
-manhood. I would sooner be a Christian and have joy
-than a Heathen with only pleasure.”</p>
-
-<p>“Christianity,” said Gildea, “is spiritual opium. You do
-not eat it?”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” she said, “I see no use in drugs. But, as I said, I
-would sooner take drugs that give me joy than live on meats
-and wines that only gave me pleasure. Joy is mine, but
-pleasure is every one’s.”</p>
-
-<p>“You had, then, once the temptation of drugs?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” she assented a little dreamily, “I had the temptation.—And
-yet,” she added with a sudden return of interest,
-“it is wonderful how little of <i>these</i> drugs you can take, and live<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span>
-with energy and joy. Are the lips of Monica pallid or her
-eyes stony? Theresa has a clear mind: she can set her house
-in order. The songs and glories of the Creatures, do they not
-pass purely and freely, as you say, through the lips of Saint
-Francis?”</p>
-
-<p>“True, but for us this aspect of the thing is past. The central
-trust in the Christ-God is a skeletoned shadow, that the
-grate holds up a moment beyond its time of falling in. You
-see it lying, a pile of shapeless ash, and wonder it ever stood.
-The Mother of Love and Grief appears no more save in the
-brilliant burning of distorted vision. It is a case of opium or
-nothing!”</p>
-
-<p>“You are right,” she said, “and so I saw it.”</p>
-
-<p>“What, then, remains,” he asked, “but resignation? There
-is no joy in patience. Nay, worse, there is little pleasure. I
-too take drugs, and I have more than once thought that, if
-Fate had not kindly given me the wherewithal to buy them, I
-should have ended the dreary business for ever. What is the
-good of our life except to despise it? says Leopardi. It is just
-bearable with drugs, but, without, I cannot think it worth the
-bearing. Pure indifference keeps more of its high souls alive
-now than the world wots of. They are careless of life, but
-they are equally careless of death. They live merely waiting
-for chance to kill them, or for life to become unendurable
-enough for them to care to kill themselves. Such men are not
-miserable. Sometimes, it is true, they suffer disgust; but they
-know nothing of despair, for despair means illusion, and they
-have the truth. Sometimes, again they have pleasure. But
-how, tell me, is it possible to have at once both truth and
-joy?”</p>
-
-<p>“All this,” she said, “I too felt, and not so long ago—although
-I could not have put it to myself so clearly. You, I
-think, have learned your belief more by living than by reading:
-with me it was different. Before I began properly to live,—to
-be free, that is, to examine and try everything for myself,—I
-had arrived at my belief, and all my living has only confirmed
-me in it.”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>What</i> is your belief?” he asked.</p>
-
-<p>She smiled and shook her head.</p>
-
-<p>“I will not try to tell it you explicitly,” she said, “for fear of
-harming it. Analysis is a mistake, and now I have so long
-known this, that I have little temptation to give way to it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span>
-You, it seems, have tried to be a Heathen. You gave yourself
-up to the natural joy of your youth and fortune, your health
-and strength and riches and powers, until the joy turned to
-pleasure and the pleasure to almost pain. Then you went for
-interest to the spiritual life of those about you, and again joy
-turned to pleasure and pleasure to almost pain. But <i>you</i>—you
-were not one that knew how to be resigned! You could not, as
-your great Master could, add to the ‘Vanity of Vanities, all is
-vanity’ the ‘Fear God and keep his commandments; for this
-is the whole duty of man.’ Far otherwise with <i>you</i>, as you
-have told me, was ‘the conclusion of the whole matter.’”</p>
-
-<p>“And you?” he said with the tone of comrade to comrade,
-“and you?”</p>
-
-<p>“I had a revelation. It took place in a London fog in front
-of a fire in a little backroom where I had my books. And, as
-it were, scales fell from my eyes, and I saw men as trees walking.”
-Gildea, the true arch-mocker, for the first time in his
-life had to undergo the sensation of doubt whether or no he
-was being mocked at.</p>
-
-<p>“Well?” he said.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I was in a rather miserable state at the time. Someone
-to whom I was attached had had to leave me. I was sick
-of trying to satisfy myself with the life of pleasure as pleasure,
-and I had the temptation to take spiritual drugs, for I felt an
-appalling loneliness of soul. I thought that no one had ever
-looked at things as I felt I should like to look at them, and I
-was at times almost afraid that I was suffering under a delusion
-that might end in something very like madness. Then I had
-my revelation. I found out that there had been a whole race
-whose central belief was the one I was stretching out my arms
-to.”</p>
-
-<p>“Greece?” said Gildea, “Greece?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, Greece! Here I found were men who realized the
-secret of life, who knew what Truth was. They looked at life
-as it was, and they saw calmly and clearly that the butterfly’s
-life is enough for the butterfly, and the man’s for the man.
-They took no spiritual opium as the Christians do: they have
-no yearning love. They have not resignation as the Heathens
-have, resignation that sullenly accepts the evil, or that brightly
-determines to make the best of the good in things. They have
-better; they have truth and light and joy! Take, then, your
-Christian Faith and Love: your Heathen Trust and Hope: <i>I</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span>
-am a Pagan, and my care is Truth and Light!—And I found,”
-she went on, “I found, after a time, that there had been others
-in these later days that had looked, or striven to look at things,
-as I did. Such was Goethe, such was Keats. With Goethe
-the freedom of his Paganism was bought at a great price, but
-Keats was born free. When Goethe recognised what it was to
-have been a Christian, to be a Heathen, and to wish to be a
-Pagan, he renounced his past and present with all the strength
-of his soul, and fixed his eyes resolutely on his future. But he
-never won it—that is to say, as he had won the others. He
-was never a Pagan as he was a Heathen or a Christian. The
-Second Part of Faust is not like the First. It is not with
-impunity that we have passed through the Christianity of
-Catholicism and the Heathenism of the Renascence. A Dante
-or a Shakspere could not be shaken off by a Goethe, and a
-Sophokles wholly put on. Is a great pagan soul possible yet?
-How shall we say no with what Keats might have become
-before us?—Sometimes I think,” she said a little dreamily,
-“that I am the only one of my time who understood these
-great men; Goethe, the god of the Transition, Keats, the
-Herakles of Modernity, strangled in his cradle by the serpents
-of Hera! And, for either of them, I would readily have given
-my life.” ...</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Medwin turned round towards them, Alcock turning
-too, as if they had reached a point in their conversation in
-which a break was expedient. Then Mrs. Medwin and Alcock
-rose and came up to them.</p>
-
-<p>“Is not the water exquisitely clear?” she said to Gildea,
-“It reminds me of Capreae. It only wants the beautiful coral
-rocks.”</p>
-
-<p>Gildea smilingly assented. He remembered a remark of
-Mrs. Medwin’s to the effect that, as you approached Melbourne
-from the north, it was like the bay of Naples with
-Vesuvius.</p>
-
-<p>“Miss Medwin,” he said, with the smile changing on his
-face and becoming sweet and radiant, “Miss Medwin has just
-been explaining to me a passage from Goethe which I never
-understood.”</p>
-
-<p>“Indeed?” said Mrs. Medwin, “I did not know you read
-German, Alice. Was it a passage from Faust? I think Faust
-is very difficult, and I do not understand the Second Part in
-the least.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span></p>
-
-<p>“No,” answered Gildea, “It was not from Faust.—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent0">Vom Halben zu entwöhnen;</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">im Ganzen, Guten, Schönen</div>
- <div class="verse indent0">resolut zu leben.”</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>“That is not very difficult, Sir Horace,” said Mrs. Medwin.</p>
-
-<p>Gildea, in answer to the dumb look on Alcock’s face, who
-did not happen to know German, translated it with courtesy:</p>
-
-<p>“‘I resolved to wean myself,’” he said, “‘from halves, and
-to live for the Whole, the Good, the Beautiful.’”</p>
-
-<p>“And what does it <i>mean</i>?” asked Alcock.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah,” answered Gildea smiling, “Miss Medwin must tell
-you that!”</p>
-
-<p class="right"><i>April, 1885.</i></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage">THE END.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="footnotes">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">FOOTNOTES</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> The remark is, of course, general. Most of Victoria, as we all know, is unfortunately
-definitely sold.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> <i>Melbourne Review</i>, October, 1883. (No. 32.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> <i>Victorian Review</i>, May, 1884. (No. 55).</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> <i>Melbourne Review</i>, April, 1884. (No. 34).</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> I may parenthetically remark that the idea that Gordon is buried in St. Kilda
-Cemetery is incorrect, as my doing so may perhaps save others from the trouble of a
-fruitless pilgrimage there, not to say an examination of all the Cemetery books. He is
-buried in Brighton Cemetery. The tombstone is a block of blue-stone, topped with a
-shattered column crowned with a laurel-wreath. The four sides of the block have
-marble tablets let into them, on which are severally written: “The Poet Gordon. Died
-June 24, 1870, aged 37 years;” “Sea-Spray and Smoke-Drift;” “Bush Ballads and
-Galloping Rhymes;” “Ashtaroth.” The Cemetery is wooded and wild, the vegetation,
-including the grave-flowers, stragglingly luxuriant. Not altogether an unfitting
-“sleeping place” for him.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> His little article on it in the <i>Contemporary Review</i> is a mere circular.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> <i>Victorian Review</i>, February, 1885, in a series of articles on contemporary English
-poets.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> It is gratifying to notice at the Technological Museum, where one would least
-expect it, the number of sunday visitors more than halves that of all the other days put
-together.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> A volume of his, in which is included his “Miscellaneous Poems” and “Convict
-Once,” has lately appeared—at last another book, out of so much of this hopelessly
-worthless colonial literature, which counts!</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> Three of Miss Ironsides’ pictures were, when I was in Sydney, housed in a sort of
-shed behind the temporary Picture Gallery. On one side of it the windows were open
-to the dust and rain! One of the pictures, the “Ars Longa, Vita Brevis,” was much
-spoiled; another, the “Adoration of the Magi,” a little. I did what I could to alter
-this state of affairs, but I could do nothing. The Trustees do not know to whom the pictures
-belong, and there is not room enough in the Gallery, as it is, for even the purchased
-pictures. Perhaps when these three pictures are permanently spoiled, something will
-be done. For me, I must confine myself to pointing out the wonderful depth of quiet
-feeling which is the chief characteristic of the work of this remarkable girl. This is to
-be noticed most in the “Marriage” picture and the “Ars Longa.” At the same time
-there is something of passionate—of passion suppressed, but none the less existent and
-strong, which adds a peculiar flavour and attraction to her work. The mother’s face in
-the “Adoration” and the girl playing on the harp in the “Marriage” are really beautiful
-in thought and execution. For pure execution, however, I would direct attention to
-the drapery of the angel in the former picture, or, in a particular shape, the thorns in
-the “Ars Longa.” I suppose that there is such a plethora of work like this of Miss
-Ironsides’ in both Sydney and Melbourne that only one or two mentally impoverished
-people like myself can be expected to trouble about it, and it is in the hope of attracting
-the attention of one or two such that I write this. There are, however, three pictures by
-Mr. Folingsby in the Melbourne Gallery which would, I am sure, look quite nice in one
-of our new æsthetically furnished hotels, Mr. Hosie’s (say) or the Grand, and then
-perhaps someone might put Miss Ironsides’ in their places. This would be a gain for
-both the Hotels and the Gallery.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> Crescat et proficiat tam singulorum quam omnium, tam unius hominis quam totius
-Ecclesiæ, Intelligentia Scientia Sapientia.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> “In Memoriam,” cxiv.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> In the Land Act that came into force in March, 1885.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<p class="titlepage">MELBOURNE:<br />
-WILLIAM INGLIS AND CO., PRINTERS,<br />
-FLINDERS STREET EAST.</p>
-
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