 | Michael Villiers, Idealist |  |
79
XIII
Then Michael spoke, and said, ‘God bless you, Grey!
You have meant well, and done well, too, by me.
And I will tell you frankly of my mind,
As much as may be. In the year that's gone,
The quiet year beside my uncle's bed,
My dear old father and my dear old friend,
Whose like again I cannot hope to see;
Who did so many noble kindnesses,
And would not have the name of doing them,—
Arthur, it is not that the mists of death
Looming about him, make him great to me;
I knew his greatness long before he died,—
I think my future path has cleared itself
As much at least as I may dare to hope;
And the light-source gives light from day to day.
One lesson I have learned at least, I think;
The very essence of martyrdom itself
Is in humility and willingness
To welcome joy as well as welcome pain.
You have meant well, and done well, too, by me.
And I will tell you frankly of my mind,
As much as may be. In the year that's gone,
The quiet year beside my uncle's bed,
My dear old father and my dear old friend,
Whose like again I cannot hope to see;
Who did so many noble kindnesses,
And would not have the name of doing them,—
Arthur, it is not that the mists of death
Looming about him, make him great to me;
I knew his greatness long before he died,—
I think my future path has cleared itself
As much at least as I may dare to hope;
And the light-source gives light from day to day.
One lesson I have learned at least, I think;
The very essence of martyrdom itself
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To welcome joy as well as welcome pain.
‘For what you say of stripping bare my life,
As once I thought I might be called to do;
God's hands, the loving and thrice-bounteous hands
Which know not of the close and bitter thrift
Whereby we rob our gifts of half their worth,
Laid once within my reach, oh, such a gift
As I knew how to value, not to take;
Then laid it in this very hand of mine!
So we go on together, she and I,
Who think and feel indeed the very same.’
As once I thought I might be called to do;
God's hands, the loving and thrice-bounteous hands
Which know not of the close and bitter thrift
Whereby we rob our gifts of half their worth,
Laid once within my reach, oh, such a gift
As I knew how to value, not to take;
Then laid it in this very hand of mine!
So we go on together, she and I,
Who think and feel indeed the very same.’
‘Now God be thanked!’ said Arthur Grey, and shook
His friend's hand in his hearty fellowship;
And with a smile Michael went on again.
‘Well, for the house and lands my uncle owned
On that dear soil where dear my mother sleeps,
I give them over to the Irish folk,
To use them in the way that all must need,
Whatever be their faith and politics;
And Lisnagh Castle, lands and tenements,
Will be the William Villiers College; so
I told him ere he died, and he was glad.
His friend's hand in his hearty fellowship;
And with a smile Michael went on again.
‘Well, for the house and lands my uncle owned
On that dear soil where dear my mother sleeps,
I give them over to the Irish folk,
To use them in the way that all must need,
Whatever be their faith and politics;
And Lisnagh Castle, lands and tenements,
Will be the William Villiers College; so
I told him ere he died, and he was glad.
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‘For Villiers Keep; we think the Keep will be
A help and comfort unto some of those
Who need such help and comfort; châtelaine
And lord we shall not be, but two that seek
To make the home-light they are blest withal
Shine for a few at least of such as wait
Weary and footsore till the day shall see
The opening of the many-mansioned home.
What comfort in the present, shall we say,
For broken loves, crushed hopes, and ruined faiths?
Shall we cry patience, saying 'twill be well
In the future, near or far; leave wounds unstaunched
Because some day, we hope, hearts need not bleed
Away their life-blood as they bleed it now?
Not so; we say, let each one love so well
That life shall be to all within his sphere
A brighter thing and better. For the rest,
God works upon a scale of infinite size,
And we can trust Him; yea, and do our work
No whit less nobly for that trust of ours.
A help and comfort unto some of those
Who need such help and comfort; châtelaine
And lord we shall not be, but two that seek
To make the home-light they are blest withal
Shine for a few at least of such as wait
Weary and footsore till the day shall see
The opening of the many-mansioned home.
What comfort in the present, shall we say,
For broken loves, crushed hopes, and ruined faiths?
Shall we cry patience, saying 'twill be well
In the future, near or far; leave wounds unstaunched
Because some day, we hope, hearts need not bleed
Away their life-blood as they bleed it now?
Not so; we say, let each one love so well
That life shall be to all within his sphere
A brighter thing and better. For the rest,
God works upon a scale of infinite size,
And we can trust Him; yea, and do our work
No whit less nobly for that trust of ours.
‘For her and me, our life will shape itself
Simple as fair; we know what luxury
Means and must mean, however it be said
The rich man's luxury is the poor man's good,
Giving the work that brings him daily bread;
A deathful fallacy! we know besides,
Simplicity of life is not indeed
An outward ugliness and sordidness,
But getting nearer to the air and light,
Body and soul: you think in this perhaps,
That I have much to lose, and nought to gain?
Nay, I have much to gain, and nought to lose.
I do not set my faith on outward change
Unvitalized from within; but if it come,
As body to the soul which is the form
And makes the body where it wills to dwell,
Justice, not adolescent, but adult,
Oh, then, thrice welcome any outward change
This royal justice may demand and have.
And this I know, that nothing we may do,
And nothing we may give, albeit we give
Our bodies to be burned, our souls to starve,
Avails for lasting good the while we feed
The dreadful passion for supremacy
Which died upon Christ's cross, yet lives and thrives
Upon their flesh and blood we call in church
Brethren; the lower classes, out of it.
Simple as fair; we know what luxury
Means and must mean, however it be said
The rich man's luxury is the poor man's good,
Giving the work that brings him daily bread;
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Simplicity of life is not indeed
An outward ugliness and sordidness,
But getting nearer to the air and light,
Body and soul: you think in this perhaps,
That I have much to lose, and nought to gain?
Nay, I have much to gain, and nought to lose.
I do not set my faith on outward change
Unvitalized from within; but if it come,
As body to the soul which is the form
And makes the body where it wills to dwell,
Justice, not adolescent, but adult,
Oh, then, thrice welcome any outward change
This royal justice may demand and have.
And this I know, that nothing we may do,
And nothing we may give, albeit we give
Our bodies to be burned, our souls to starve,
Avails for lasting good the while we feed
The dreadful passion for supremacy
Which died upon Christ's cross, yet lives and thrives
Upon their flesh and blood we call in church
Brethren; the lower classes, out of it.
‘I have no scheme to offer you instead
Of the existent; if I had 'twere false,
However true I were; because no State
Is made at once, but follows laws of growth,
And growthful change, and shapes itself at length
In some way its beginners dreamed not of.
We work to make ourselves unneeded; work
To help the unborn men to help the world
The better that we lived, whose names and schemes
They will not know, or know to smile thereat.
Of the existent; if I had 'twere false,
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Is made at once, but follows laws of growth,
And growthful change, and shapes itself at length
In some way its beginners dreamed not of.
We work to make ourselves unneeded; work
To help the unborn men to help the world
The better that we lived, whose names and schemes
They will not know, or know to smile thereat.
‘I am no seer, Grey, but I discern
Whither the current sets of tendency,
And I go with the current, all my will
Set thither, striving not against, nor yet
Unknowing and uncaring whither I go.
You think we want to make all lives of men
Unbeautiful, because the ugliness
Of some is branded heavily on our hearts?
Not so; we would have all lives beautful:
We would not have men be like beasts of prey,
Prowling about each other's steps to get
Each other's blood; that's what they're doing now;
The strongest gets the most; the rest—well, well,
I could say bitter things if so I would;
The easiest thing on earth is to call names!
Of this, enough; and for the rest, I strive
For entrance to the kingdom, as she said,
She who is one sweet health of body and soul,
Nor maimed nor halt, but sound in every limb.
Whither the current sets of tendency,
And I go with the current, all my will
Set thither, striving not against, nor yet
Unknowing and uncaring whither I go.
You think we want to make all lives of men
Unbeautiful, because the ugliness
Of some is branded heavily on our hearts?
Not so; we would have all lives beautful:
We would not have men be like beasts of prey,
Prowling about each other's steps to get
Each other's blood; that's what they're doing now;
The strongest gets the most; the rest—well, well,
I could say bitter things if so I would;
The easiest thing on earth is to call names!
Of this, enough; and for the rest, I strive
For entrance to the kingdom, as she said,
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Nor maimed nor halt, but sound in every limb.
‘What is your competition which, you say,
Makes men of savages, and then evolves
The higher man from men? ay, so it does,
If you eliminate that awkward thing,
The human heart; which will not be at rest
Until it lie upon the heart of Love,
That knoweth not what emulation is.—
What is this competition? look and see:
You have no need to leave your native land!
You'll see it if you look upon the folk
Who go their way, thrust out for evermore
From that fair heaven of heavens they call success.
Is your ear quick enough to hear them curse,
If the curse be but inarticulate?
Ask them what think they of God, if so it be
They care whether there be a God or no—
Nay, do not ask them; you're a gentleman,
And might not find your ears robust enough
To stand the shock. Men, ay, and women too,
Such women! with the womanhood crushed down
Into the merest sex. God help us all!
Makes men of savages, and then evolves
The higher man from men? ay, so it does,
If you eliminate that awkward thing,
The human heart; which will not be at rest
Until it lie upon the heart of Love,
That knoweth not what emulation is.—
What is this competition? look and see:
You have no need to leave your native land!
You'll see it if you look upon the folk
Who go their way, thrust out for evermore
From that fair heaven of heavens they call success.
Is your ear quick enough to hear them curse,
If the curse be but inarticulate?
Ask them what think they of God, if so it be
They care whether there be a God or no—
Nay, do not ask them; you're a gentleman,
And might not find your ears robust enough
To stand the shock. Men, ay, and women too,
Such women! with the womanhood crushed down
Into the merest sex. God help us all!
‘And now look round and see the other ones
Who have success: what has it done for them?
What is that manhood and that womanhood,
Reared on the flesh and blood of its own kind?
How looks it, think you, in the eyes of God?
Oh, better far to lie beneath the wheels
Splashed with our heart-blood, than to sit and urge
The team of hell to drag the chariot on!—
And yet, and yet, they know not what they do!
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What is that manhood and that womanhood,
Reared on the flesh and blood of its own kind?
How looks it, think you, in the eyes of God?
Oh, better far to lie beneath the wheels
Splashed with our heart-blood, than to sit and urge
The team of hell to drag the chariot on!—
And yet, and yet, they know not what they do!
‘That's competition, as I hold it, Grey!
Man against man, instead of man for man!
Will you not try at least, and shall I say,
For my sake, Arthur, whom you say you love,
Try to believe it, for it is the truth,
The spring of action is not selfishness:
Men will have nobler aims, do greater deeds,
They needing not to struggle any more.’
Man against man, instead of man for man!
Will you not try at least, and shall I say,
For my sake, Arthur, whom you say you love,
Try to believe it, for it is the truth,
The spring of action is not selfishness:
Men will have nobler aims, do greater deeds,
They needing not to struggle any more.’
‘And in the days to come, with nought to give,
What room may be for generosity?
They say, if all men have enough, no more,
No less, where cometh in the hand of Love,
Love, the giftbearer's hand, laden with gifts?’
What room may be for generosity?
They say, if all men have enough, no more,
No less, where cometh in the hand of Love,
Love, the giftbearer's hand, laden with gifts?’
‘I answer, Love's dear generosities
Pass never, and can never pass from need:
For ever we shall need to give and take.
“I give myself,” saith Love, and bread, or gems,
Or praise, are only body to that soul
Informing all; that soul which leaves a scent
Sweeter than all the nard of all the East,
Sweeter than breath of English violet bloom,
About the meanest place it passes through.
She has it, love like this; thrice well for me
If I could love as she, who makes the ground
Her feet have trod, her garments' hem hath swept,
The wholesomer for other feet to tread.
Pass never, and can never pass from need:
For ever we shall need to give and take.
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Or praise, are only body to that soul
Informing all; that soul which leaves a scent
Sweeter than all the nard of all the East,
Sweeter than breath of English violet bloom,
About the meanest place it passes through.
She has it, love like this; thrice well for me
If I could love as she, who makes the ground
Her feet have trod, her garments' hem hath swept,
The wholesomer for other feet to tread.
‘We do not seek to flee our fellow-men,
And make, in pride that claims some other name,
A petty sect, by courtesy a church,
A narrow little esoteric clan.
God's kingdom is among you, said the Christ;
You, you, each man and woman everywhere.
And make, in pride that claims some other name,
A petty sect, by courtesy a church,
A narrow little esoteric clan.
God's kingdom is among you, said the Christ;
You, you, each man and woman everywhere.
‘I do not let my fair ideal go,
Brotherhood, freedom, and equality,—
Equality of chance; equality
Of gift not being in any man to give,—
For any old ideal that bids the rich
Give amply of their substance to the poor.
There are sweet souls and noble, hold themselves
Stewards of God, and strive to use their wealth
In the best fashion; feed the hungry; clothe
The naked; all the hungry and naked ones
They have about them; weeping for their plight,
And thankful to do somewhat, small though it be,
To ease the weight of human suffering.
Well, while the house is building, dwell in tents
Or booths; but do not say, “Here is a house
That shall defy the winds to beat thereon,
And breast the tempest's stress for evermore.”
Brotherhood, freedom, and equality,—
Equality of chance; equality
Of gift not being in any man to give,—
For any old ideal that bids the rich
Give amply of their substance to the poor.
There are sweet souls and noble, hold themselves
Stewards of God, and strive to use their wealth
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The naked; all the hungry and naked ones
They have about them; weeping for their plight,
And thankful to do somewhat, small though it be,
To ease the weight of human suffering.
Well, while the house is building, dwell in tents
Or booths; but do not say, “Here is a house
That shall defy the winds to beat thereon,
And breast the tempest's stress for evermore.”
‘The new ideal is a greater one;
All men secure of bread to fill their mouths,
All men secure of bread to feed their souls;
Of time and scope for every power they have
To bear upon the thing they do the best.
All men secure of bread to fill their mouths,
All men secure of bread to feed their souls;
Of time and scope for every power they have
To bear upon the thing they do the best.
‘For me, to hark back to the old ideal
Were as if, when one gazing on the dead
With reverent looks, a something comes to cheat
The gazer's sense; the cold lips white and still
Seem moving just as if a word or kiss
Trembled upon them: but no life is there,
And we must let the coffin-lid be closed,
Upon the dead, and live with those who live.
Were as if, when one gazing on the dead
With reverent looks, a something comes to cheat
The gazer's sense; the cold lips white and still
Seem moving just as if a word or kiss
Trembled upon them: but no life is there,
And we must let the coffin-lid be closed,
Upon the dead, and live with those who live.
‘The new ideal has yet to be worked out;
And it is swiftly working out itself.
The things we started at a lustre back
Are the mere commonplaces of to-day.
And it is swiftly working out itself.
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Are the mere commonplaces of to-day.
‘And you who hate the people, or at least,
Despise them surely—is't not even so?
You like them in their place, whate'er that means—
You love not aitchless words and nails untrimmed—
You, Arthur, know at least as well as I
There's something worse than lack of breeding is,
And worse than aitchless words, and nails untrimmed;
That worse I mean to fight, so help me God!
But ill of centuries of ignoble aims
Takes more than a few years wherein to heal.’
Despise them surely—is't not even so?
You like them in their place, whate'er that means—
You love not aitchless words and nails untrimmed—
You, Arthur, know at least as well as I
There's something worse than lack of breeding is,
And worse than aitchless words, and nails untrimmed;
That worse I mean to fight, so help me God!
But ill of centuries of ignoble aims
Takes more than a few years wherein to heal.’
‘Nay, Michael, nay; the poor are not so bad
As you would represent them! why, even I,
Who have no theories at all, nor views,
Much less a mission to reform the State,
I do not think them such rascality
As you, their friend, would seem to make them out.’
As you would represent them! why, even I,
Who have no theories at all, nor views,
Much less a mission to reform the State,
I do not think them such rascality
As you, their friend, would seem to make them out.’
‘I would not speak as if I knew not well—
For I have seen with my own eyes, and heard
With my own ears, and thereto heard and seen
With ears and eyes of others,—how the poor
Have virtues great enough to make ashamed
The men who call themselves their betters; ay,
The hungry ones will share their pitiful crust
With hungrier ones; the overcrowded home
Will open wide to take the orphan in,
Who else must die: they do not say, like us,
“Thy need is more than mine, and yet, forsooth,
I dare not give this draught away to thee:
It were not well to have an empty cup
Should one come by whose cup is always full:
We needs must keep our social standing up,
Nor peril our position as gentlefolk.”
For I have seen with my own eyes, and heard
With my own ears, and thereto heard and seen
With ears and eyes of others,—how the poor
Have virtues great enough to make ashamed
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The hungry ones will share their pitiful crust
With hungrier ones; the overcrowded home
Will open wide to take the orphan in,
Who else must die: they do not say, like us,
“Thy need is more than mine, and yet, forsooth,
I dare not give this draught away to thee:
It were not well to have an empty cup
Should one come by whose cup is always full:
We needs must keep our social standing up,
Nor peril our position as gentlefolk.”
‘But runs the tendency of extreme want
No other way than this? do we not hear
Of motherhood and fatherhood that slays
Its young to gain a paltry burial fee?
Ay, paltry, is it? or a precious thing
Meaning a little longer hold on life?
No other way than this? do we not hear
Of motherhood and fatherhood that slays
Its young to gain a paltry burial fee?
Ay, paltry, is it? or a precious thing
Meaning a little longer hold on life?
‘If any among us think that poverty
Is the best discipline of all for men,
Developing those worthful qualities,
Endurance, patience, and frugality,—
And I have heard it said in table-talk
By men perhaps a trifle more rotund
Than folk so disciplined are wont to be—
Why, let him go and try it for himself!
Let him give up all social privilege,
All land, all gold; and let it lie beyond
His power to claim them for himself again:
Let him fight hard to win his daily bread,
And win the right to win it in the teeth
Of struggle wherein the weakest needs must fall;
A poor, bare, forked animal, reduced
To life's essentials! that's enough to say!
Is the best discipline of all for men,
Developing those worthful qualities,
Endurance, patience, and frugality,—
And I have heard it said in table-talk
By men perhaps a trifle more rotund
Than folk so disciplined are wont to be—
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Let him give up all social privilege,
All land, all gold; and let it lie beyond
His power to claim them for himself again:
Let him fight hard to win his daily bread,
And win the right to win it in the teeth
Of struggle wherein the weakest needs must fall;
A poor, bare, forked animal, reduced
To life's essentials! that's enough to say!
‘Yes, patience is their virtue; they will bear
Deep wrongs; the wrongs we call on them to bear;
The wrongs we would not bear ourselves one hour.
I bid them rather cease to bear these wrongs!
Let them learn patience in another way,
Some way that wrongs not them, and others too!
By all the manhood in them, all the fire
God's hand hath kindled, man's hath tried to quench;
By all their duty to the commonweal,
Wherein the hurt of one is hurt of all;
I bid them cease from patience! it is time!
He wrongs himself who wrongs another man;
He wrongs all other men who wrongs himself!
Deep wrongs; the wrongs we call on them to bear;
The wrongs we would not bear ourselves one hour.
I bid them rather cease to bear these wrongs!
Let them learn patience in another way,
Some way that wrongs not them, and others too!
By all the manhood in them, all the fire
God's hand hath kindled, man's hath tried to quench;
By all their duty to the commonweal,
Wherein the hurt of one is hurt of all;
I bid them cease from patience! it is time!
He wrongs himself who wrongs another man;
He wrongs all other men who wrongs himself!
‘Nay, Arthur, do not start as though I had said
I meant to stir the working-people up
To prove their manhood by the deeds of blood
Which die not barren of other deeds of blood,
Murder begetting murder evermore.
We deal not with a Russian autocrat,
Nor yet with leather-heart bureaucracy;
We are Englishmen and work by English means,
And would not see justice unjustly done.
I meant to stir the working-people up
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Which die not barren of other deeds of blood,
Murder begetting murder evermore.
We deal not with a Russian autocrat,
Nor yet with leather-heart bureaucracy;
We are Englishmen and work by English means,
And would not see justice unjustly done.
‘But dare to bid them suffer on! not I!
I tell you we may slay the souls of men
With patience, an ill patience with ill things.
Was the Christ patient when his fiery wrath
Drove the profaning chapmen with a scourge
Forth from his Father's house? I will not preach
Patience I would not practise being a man;
Patience that saps away virility:
But I would tell them, I will tell them, Grey,
That, once afoot, they must go patient on,
Nor ever take their eye from the good aim,
Each man for all, all for the Commonweal.
I tell you we may slay the souls of men
With patience, an ill patience with ill things.
Was the Christ patient when his fiery wrath
Drove the profaning chapmen with a scourge
Forth from his Father's house? I will not preach
Patience I would not practise being a man;
Patience that saps away virility:
But I would tell them, I will tell them, Grey,
That, once afoot, they must go patient on,
Nor ever take their eye from the good aim,
Each man for all, all for the Commonweal.
‘We say, “The time is not yet ripe!” Perhaps;
And yet, delay may find it over-ripe;
And after over-ripeness, rottenness.
We say, “All progress must be gradual!”
Gradual; but need the gradual be the slow?
A cripple's foot will rest upon one rung
While a strong man's hath gained the ladder's top.
The progress of the twain is gradual.
And yet, delay may find it over-ripe;
And after over-ripeness, rottenness.
We say, “All progress must be gradual!”
Gradual; but need the gradual be the slow?
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While a strong man's hath gained the ladder's top.
The progress of the twain is gradual.
‘There is no one can find the people's heart,
He standing all the while aloof from them;
And I will try to find their heart, who stand
In no aloofness, and would fain sit down
With them if they would bid me to their hearth.
He standing all the while aloof from them;
And I will try to find their heart, who stand
In no aloofness, and would fain sit down
With them if they would bid me to their hearth.
‘Arthur, there's much to do, and much to bear;
Then let us do and bear it, man with man.’
Then let us do and bear it, man with man.’
And once again Michael and Arthur clasped
Each other's hand, and stood in silentness,
Till Arthur said, ‘Well, Michael, I suppose
If God has made a seer, his work's To see:
But seers have no perspective, good my friend;
They see the near and far upon one plane!
God bless you, anyhow, howe'er that be.’
Each other's hand, and stood in silentness,
Till Arthur said, ‘Well, Michael, I suppose
If God has made a seer, his work's To see:
But seers have no perspective, good my friend;
They see the near and far upon one plane!
God bless you, anyhow, howe'er that be.’
And Michael stood alone beneath the stars,
How long he knew not.
How long he knew not.
Of the sons of men,
The greatest, strongest, is too small, too weak,
To hold one star, one life, in palms a-curve.
O great, strong God, Thou hold'st the universe.
The greatest, strongest, is too small, too weak,
To hold one star, one life, in palms a-curve.
O great, strong God, Thou hold'st the universe.
| Michael Villiers, Idealist | |