ThroughoutthelongwatchesofthenightIfollowthem;andintheearlymorningtheyslideby,theireyespaleinthetwilight;whilethestarsflickerandfade,andthegaslampsdiedownintoadullyellowblotchagainstthegloryandglowofanewday。
CHAPTERII
FEBRUARYishere,Februaryfill-dyke;themonthofpurification,ofcleansingrainsandpulsingboundingstreams,andwhitemistclinginginsistenttofieldandhedgerowsothatwhenherveiliswithdrawngreennessmaymakeusglad。
Theriverhasbeenuniformlygreyoflate,withnowindtoruffleitssurfaceortospeedthebargesdroppingslowlyandsullenlydownwiththetidethroughablurringhaze。Iwatchedoneyesterday,itsuselesssailshalf-furledandnosignoflifesavethemanatthehelm。Itdriftedstealthilypast,andalittlebehind,flyinglow,cameasolitaryseagull,greyastheriver\'shaze-afollowingbird。
OnceagainIlayonmybackinthebottomofthetarryoldfishingsmack,blueskyaboveandnosoundbuttheknock,knockofthewaves,andthethudandcurloffallingfoamastheoldboat\'sbluntnosebreastedthecomingsea。ThenDaddyWhiddonspoke。
\"Afollerin\'burrd,\"hesaid。
Igotup,andlookedacrossthebluefieldwewereploughingintowhitefurrows。Farawayatinysailscarredthegreatsolitude,andasterncameagullflyingslowlyclosetothewater\'sbreast。
DaddyWhiddonwavedhispipetowardsit。
\"Afollerin\'burrd,\"hesaid,again;andagainIwaited;questionswerenotgratefultohim。
\"Therebeacarpsethere,sureenough,acarpsedriftin\'andshiftin\'onthefloorofthesea。Therebethoseascan\'trest,poorsawls,andher\'llbemun,her\'llbemun,andthesperritofheriswiththeburrd。\"
Theclumsyboomswungacrossaswechangedourcourse,andthewaterranfromusinsmoothreachesoneitherside:thebirdflewsteadilyon。
\"Whatwillthespiritdo?\"Isaid。
Theoldmanlookedatmegravely。
\"Her\'llrestintheLard\'stime,intheLard\'sgudetime-butnowher\'lljustbefollerin\'onwiththeburrd。\"
Thegullwasflyingclosetousnow,andacoldwindsweptthesunnysea。Ishivered:Daddylookedatmecuriously。
\"Therebereasonenoughtobecawldifusdidbutknawit,butIhemos\'usedto\'em,poorsawls。\"Heshadedhiskeenoldblueeyes,andlookedawayacrossthewater。Hisfacekindled。\"Therebeaskulecomin\',andbymysawl\'tismackereltheybedrivin\'。\"
Iwatchedeagerly,andsawthedarklineriseandfallinthetroughofthesea,and,awaybehind,thestirandrushoftumblingporpoisesastheychasedtheirprey。
Againwechangedourtack,andeachtakinganoar,pulledlustilyforthebeach。
\"PleaseGodher\'llbreakinshore,\"saidDaddyWhiddon;andheshoutedthenewstotheidlewaitingmenwhohailedus。
Inamomentallwasstir,forthefishinghadbeenslack。Twoboatsputoutwiththelithebrownseine。Thedarklinehadturned,buttheschoolwasstillbehind,churningthewaterinclumsyhaste;theywerecomingin。
Thenthebritbrokeinsilveryleapingwavesontheshelvingbeach。
Thethreefoldhuntwasover;theporpoisesturnedouttoseainsearchoffreshquarry;andtheseine,draggedbyreadyhands,cameslowly,stubbornlyinwithitsquiveringtreasureoffish。Theyhadsoughtahavenandfoundnone;thebritlaydyinginflickeringiridescentheapsasthebare-leggedbabiesofthevillagegatheredthemup;andfarawayoverthewaterIsawasinglegreyspeck;itwasthefollowingbird。
Thecurtainofriverhazefallsback;bargeandbirdarealikegone,andthelamplighterhaslitthefirstgas-lamponthefarsideofthebridge。EverynightIwatchhimcome,hisprogressmarkedbythegreatyelloweyesthatwakethedark。Sometimeshewalksquickly;sometimesheloitersonthebridgetochat,orstareatthedarkwater;buthealwayscomes,leavinghiswatchfuldeterrenttrainbehindhimtopolicethenight。
OnceDemeterintheblackanguishofherdesolationsearchedforlostPersephonebythelightofHecate\'storch;andsearchingallinvain,spurnedbeneathheremptyfeetanearthbarrenofhersmile;frozewithsetbrowsthemerrybrooksandstreams;andsmoteforest,andplain,andfruitfulfield,withthebreathofherlastdespair,untilevenIambe\'slaughingjestwasstill。Andthenwhenthedesolationwascomplete,acrossthewastedvalleywherethestarvelingcattlescarcelylongedtobrowse,camethedreadfulchariot-andPersephone。ThedayoftheprisonerofHadeshaddawned;andasthesunflamedslowlyuptolightherthwartedeyestheworldsprangintoblossomatherfeet。
WecanneverbetooPaganwhenwearetrulyChristian,andtheoldmythsareeternaltruthsheldfastintheChurch\'snet。PrometheusfetchedfirefromHeaven,tobeslainforeverinthefetching;andlo,aGreaterthanPrometheuscametofirethecressetoftheCross。Demeterwaitsnowpatientlyenough。Persephonewaits,too,inthefaithofthesunshecannotsee:andeverylamplitcarriesonthecrusadewhichhasforitsgoalasunless,moonless,citywhoselightistheLightoftheworld。
\"Lumeelassu,chevisibilefacelocreatoreaquellacreatura,chesoloinluivederehalasuapace。\"
Immediatelyoutsidemywindowisalimetree-alittleblackskeletonofabundantbranches-inwhichsparrowscongregatetochirpandbicker。FartherawayIhaveaglimpseofgracefulplanes,childrenofmoonlightandmist;theirdaintyrobes,stillmoreorlessunsullied,gleamghostlyinthegaslightathwartthedark。Theymakeabraveshoweveninwinterwiththeirfeatherybranchesandswingingtassels,whereasmylittletreestandsstarkanduncompromising,withitshordeofsootysparrowscockneytothelasttailfeather,andapatheticinabilitytolookanythingbutblack。Raincomeswithstrongcaressingfingers,andthebranchesseemnowhitthecleanerforhercare;butthentheirglisteningblacknessmirrorsbackthesucceedingsunlight,asamuddypavementwillsometimeslapourfeetinaseaofgold。Thelittlewetsparrowsareforthemomentequallytransformed,forthesunturnstheirdun-colouredcoatstoaruddybronze,andcriesChrysostomasitkisseseachshinybeak。TheyaredumbChrysostoms;buttheypreachagoldengospel,forthesparrowsaretoLondonwhattherainbowwastoeightsavedsoulsoutofawasteofwaters-aperpetualsignoftherememberingmerciesofGod。
Lastnighttherewasasuddenclatterofhoofs,ashout,andthensilence。Arunawaycab-horse,adarknight,awidecrossing,andaheavyburden:sodeathcametoapoorwoman。Peoplefromthehousewentouttohelp;andIheardofher,thecentreofanunknowingcuriouscrowd,asshelaybonnetlessinthemudoftheroad,herheadonthekerb。Arudebutpainlessdeath:themiserylayinherlife;forthiswoman-worn,white-haired,andwrinkled-hadbutfiftyyearstosetagainstsuchacondition。Thepolicemanreportedherrespectable,hard-working,livingapartfromherhusbandwithasister;butalthoughtheysharedrooms,they\"didnotspeak,\"andthesisterrefusedallresponsibility;sotheparishburiedthedeadwoman,andthusendedanuneventfultragedy。
Wasitherownfault?Ifso,thegreaterpathos。Thelonelysoulsthatholdouttimidhandstoanunheedingworldhavetheirmeedofinteriorcomfortevenhere,whilethesonsofconsolationwaitonthethresh-holdfortheirfootfall:butGodhelpthesoulthatbarsitsowndoor!ItiskickingagainstthepricksofDivineordinance,theordinanceofatriuneGod;whetheritbethedwellerincrowdedstreetortenementwhoisproudtosay,\"Ikeepmyselftomyself,\"orSenecawritinginpitifulcomplacency,\"WheneverI
havegoneamongmen,Ihavereturnedhomelessofaman。\"Whateverthenextworldholdsinstore,wearebiddeninthistoseekandserveGodinourfellow-men,andinthecreaturesofHismakingwhomHecallsbyname。
Itwasoncemyprivilegetoknowanoldorgan-grindernamedGawdine。Hewasahardswearer,aharddrinker,ahardliver,andhefortifiedhimselfbodyandsoulagainsttheworld:heevendrankalone,whichisanevilsign。
OnedaytoGawdinesobercamealittledirtychild,whoclungtohisemptytrouserleg-hehadlostalimbyearsbefore-withapersistentunintelligiblerequest。Heshookthelittlechapoffwithablowandacurse;andthechildwastrottingdismallyaway,whenitsuddenlyturned,ranback,andheldupadirtyfaceforakiss。
TwodayslaterGawdinefellunderapassingdraywhichinflictedterribleinternalinjuriesonhim。Theypatchedhimupinhospital,andhewentbacktohisorgan-grinding,takingwithhimtwofriends-apainwhichfellsuddenlyuponhimtorackandrendwithananguishofcrucifixion,andthememoryofachild\'supturnedface。Outwardlyhewasthesamesavethathechangedthetunesofhisorgan,outoflong-hoardedsavings,forthejigsandreelswhichchildrenholddear,andstoodpatientlyplayingtheminchild-crowdedalleys,wherepenniesarenotasplentifulaselsewhere。
Hecontinuedtodrink;itdidnotcomewithinhisnewcodetostop,sincehecould\"carryhisliquorwell;\"butherarely,ifever,swore。Hetoldmethistalethroughthethroesofhisanguishashelaycrouchedonamattressonthefloor;andasthegripofthepaintookhimhetoreandbitathishandsuntiltheyweremaimedandbleeding,tokeepthereadycursesoffhislips。
Hetoldthestory,buthegavenoreason,offerednoexplanation:
hehasbeendeadnowmanyayear,andthuswouldIwritehisepitaph:-
HesawthefaceofalittlechildandlookedonGod。
CHAPTERIII
\"TWObegan,inalowvoice,\'Why,thefactis,yousee,Miss,thishereoughttohavebeenaREDrose-tree,andweputawhiteoneinbymistake。\'\"
AsIlookroundthisroomIfeelsureTwo,andFive,andSeven,haveallbeenatworkonit,andmadenomistakes,forroundthewallsrunsafriezeofsquatstandardrose-trees,redasredcanbe,andjustlikethosethatAlicesawintheQueen\'sgarden。InbetweenthemareChaucer\'sname-children,primlittledaisies,peeringwideawakefromgreengrass。ThissamegrasshasahistorywhichIhaveheard。Intheoriginalstencilforthefriezeitwaspurelyconventionalliketherest,andmetinspikeycurvesroundeachtree;thepainter,however,whowasdoingthework,wasaloverofthefields;andfeelingthatsuchgrasswasatravesty,headdedonhisownaccountdaintylittletussocks,andsoftenedthehardlineintoatuftedcarpet,thegrassgrowingirregularly,bentatwillbythewind。
Theresultfromthestandpointofconventionalartisindeeddisastrous;butmysympathyandgratitudearewiththepainter。I
see,ashesaw,thefar-reachingrobeoflivingineffablegreen,ofwhosebrilliancetheeyeneverhastoomuch,andinwhoseweftnotwothreadsarealike;andshrinkashedidfromtheconventionalisingofthatwindsweptglory。
Theseahasitscrestedwavesofrecognisableform;theriveritseddyandswirlandseparatevortices;butthegrass!Thewindblowethwhereitlistethandthegrassbowsasthewindblows-
\"thoucanstnottellwhitheritgoeth。\"Ittakesnopattern,itobeysnorecognisedlaw;itislikeabeautifulcreatureofathousandwaywardmoods,anditsvoiceislikenothingelseinthewideworld。Itbidsyourestandburyyourtiredfaceinthegreencoolness,andbreatheofitsbreathandofthebreathofthegoodearthfromwhichmanwastakenandtowhichhewillonedayreturn。
Then,ifyoulendyourearandaresilentminded,youmayhearwondrousthingsofthedeepplacesoftheearth;oflifeinmineralandstoneaswellasinpulsingsap;ofagreenworldasthestarssawitbeforemantroditunderfoot-oftheemeraldwhichhasitsplacewiththerestintheCityofGod。
\"WhatifearthBebuttheshadowofheaven,andthingstherein,Eachtoeachotherlike,morethanonearthtothought?\"
Itisanaturalpartofcivilisation\'slustofre-arrangementthatweshouldbesoreadytoconventionalisethebeautyofthisworldintodecorativepatternsforourpilgrimtents。Itisaphase,andwillmeltintootherphases;butittendstotheincreaseofartificiality,andexistsnotonlyinartbutineverything。Itisnonewthingforjadedsentimenttocravethespuroftheunnatural,topreferthecleverimitation,toliveinaDevachanwherethesurroundingsappearthatwhichwewouldhavethemtobe;
butitisaninterestingrecordofthepulseofthepresentdaythat\'AnEnglishwoman\'sLoveLetters\'shouldhavetakensocietybystorminthewayitcertainlyhas。
Itisadelightfulbooktoleaveabout,withitsvellumbinding,daintyribbons,andthehallmarkofagreatpublisher\'sname。Butwhenweseekwithinwefindlovewithitsthousandvoicesandwaywardmoods,itsshygracesandseemlyreticences,lovewhichhasitsthroneandrobeofstateaswellasthegarmentofthebeggarmaid,lovewhichisbeforetimewas,whichknewtheworldwhenthestarstookuptheircourses,presentedtousingushingoutpourings,theappropriatelanguageofawoman\'shearttotheboorshedelightstohonour。
\"Itiswomanwhoisthegloryofman,\"saystheauthorof\'TheHouseofWisdomandLove,\'\"REGINAMUNDI,greater,becausesofartheless;andmanisherhead,butonlyasheserveshisqueen。\"
Setthissoberaphorismagainsttheschoolgirllove-makingwhichkissesaman\'sfeetandgailyrefuseshimthebarrenhonourofhavinglovedherfirst。
Thereisscantneedfortheapologiawhichprecedestheletters;afewpagesdispelsthefearthatwearepryingintoanother\'ssoul。
Asfortheauthorship,thereisawoman\'sinfluence,anartist\'spoorlyconcealedbiasintheforeignletters;andfortherestaman\'sblunders-somucheasiertoseeinanotherthantoavoidoneself-writlargefromcovertocover。KingCophetua,whosends\"profoundlygratefulremembrances,\"hasmostsurelywrittenthelettershewouldwishtoreceive。
\"MrsMeynell!\"criesonereviewer,triumphantly。Nay,thesaintsbegoodtous,whathasMrsMeynellincommonwiththe\"Englishwoman\'s\"language,style,ormostunconvincingpassion?
Mencanwriteasfromawoman\'sheartwhentheyaremindedtodosoindesperateearnestness-thereisClarissaHarloweandStevenson\'sKirstie,andmanymoretoproveit;butwhenamanwritesastheauthorofthe\"LoveLetters\"writes,Ifeel,asdidthepainterofthefrieze,thatpattern-makinghasgonetoofarandincludedthatwhich,likethegrass,shouldbesparedsuchaconvention。
\"Iquiteagreewithyou,\"saidtheDuchess,\"andthemoralofthatis-\'Bewhatyouwouldseemtobe\'-or,ifyou\'dliketoputitmoresimply-\'neverimagineyourselfnottobeotherwisethanwhatitmightappeartoothersthatwhatyouwereormighthavebeenwasnototherwisethanwhatyouhadbeenwouldhaveappearedtothemtobeotherwise。\'\"AndsobywayoftheQueen\'sgardenIcomebacktomyroomagain。
Myheart\'saffectionsarestillcentredonmyoldattic,withboardedfloorandwhite-washedwalls,wherethesunblazonedafriezeofredandgolduntilhetravelledtoofartowardsthenorth,themoonstreamedintopaintthetreesininkywaveringshadows,andthestarsflashedtheirglorytomeacrosstheyears。
Butnowsunandmoongreetmeonlyindirectly,andundertheredroseshangpictures,someofthemthedearcompanionsofmydays。
OppositemeistheArundelprintofthePresentation,paintedbythegentle\"BrotheroftheAngels。\"PriestSimeon,astatelyfigureingreenandgold,greatwithprophecy,gazesadoringlyattheBambinoheholdswithfatherlycare。OurLady,inrobeofredandveilofshadowedpurple,isinstinctwithlightdespitethesombrecolouring,asshestretchesouthungering,awe-struckhandsforhersoul\'sdelight。StJoseph,dignifiedguardianandservitor,standsbehind,holdingtheSacrificeofthePoortoredeemtheFirst-begotten。
StPeterMartyrandtheDominicannun,gazinginraptcontemplationatthescene,arenotonewhitsurprisedtofindthemselvesinthepresenceofeternalmysteries。IntheEntombment,whichhangsontheoppositewall,StDominiccomesroundthecornerfullofgrievousamazeandtenderestsympathy,butwithnosenseofshockorintrusion,forwashenot\"famigliardiCristo\"?Andsohetakesitallin;thestonebedemptyandwaiting;theBelovedcradledforthelasttimeonHismother\'skneestobewashed,lappedround,andlaidtorestasifHewereagaintheBabeofBethlehem。HeseestheMagdalenanointingtheSacredFeet;BlessedJohncaringforthelivingandtheDead;andhe,Dominic-houndoftheLord-havinghisreal,livingshareintheanguishandhope,thebeddingofthedearestDead,whodidbutleavethisearththatHemightmanifestHimselfmorecompletely。
Underneath,withaleapacrossthecenturies,isRossetti\'spicture;Dantethistimetheonlooker,Beatrice,inherpalebeauty,thedeath-kissedone。Thesameideaunderdifferentrepresentations;theoneconceivedinchildlikesimplicity,theotherrecalling,eveninthephotograph,itswealthofcolourandimagining;theoneaworld-wideideal,theotheranindividualexpressionofit。
BeatricewastoDantetheinclusionofbelief。Shewasmoretohimthanhehimselfknew,farmoretohimafterherdeaththanbefore。
And,therefore,theanalogybetweenthepictureshasatcoreacommonreality。\"ItisexpedientforyouthatIgoaway,\"isconstantlybeingsaidtousasweclingearthliketotheoutwardexpression,ratherthantotheinwardmanifestation-andblessedarethosewhohearandunderstand,foritisspokenonlytosuchashavebeenwithHimfromthebeginning。Theeternalmysteriescomeintotimeforusindividuallyunderwidelydifferingforms。Thetinychildmothersitsdoll,croonstoit,spendsherselfuponit,whyshecannottellyou;andwewhoarehereinourextremeyouth,nevertobemenandwomengrowninthisworld,nurseourideal,exchangeit,refashionit,callitbymanynames;andatlastinhereorhereafterwefindinitsnakedtruththeChildinthemanger,evenastheWiseMenfoundHimwhentheycamefromtheEasttoseekagreatKing。Thereisbutonenecessaryconditionofthisfinding;wemustfollowtheparticularmanifestationoflightgivenus,neverrestinguntilitrests-overtheplaceoftheChild。
Andthereisbutoneinsurmountablehindrance,theextinctionofordrawingbackfromthelighttrulyapprehendedbyus。Weforgetthis,andjudgeothermenbythelightofourownsoul。
Ithinktheoldbishopmusthaveunderstoodit。Heismyfriendoffriendsasheliesoppositemywindowinhisalabastersleep,cladinpontificalrobes,withunshodfeet,alittleislandofwhitepeaceinamany-colouredmarblesea。Thefaithfulsculptorhasgiveneverylineandwrinkle,theheavyeyelidsandsunkenfaceoftiredoldage,butwithalthesmileofacontentedchild。