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(p. 314)
CHAPTER 24.
LIFE in the
hacienda proved
by no means as irksome as had been anticipated. The noise of the mills soon
became so much a matter of course as to pass unnoticed by both Margaret and
Noel. Conversation in a low tone was as easy as ever, and, with few
distractions, the routine of life proceeded as pleasantly as before. Noel’s
book, now actually commenced, was one great resource, ever affording something
to be discussed. It was his wont, whenever a difficult situation threatened his
characters, to consult Margaret upon the conduct to be exhibited in the
emergency; and he derived much delight and amusement from observing that she
invariably and as a matter of course considered only, not what each one might
like best to do under the circumstances, but what would be the requirement of
the strictest duty; and from the discussions which arose as to how far she
herself would be likely, under similar circumstances, to be so self-conscious as
to ignore impulse and think of duty at all. It never occurred to her that people
could be otherwise than perfectly good, and anxious only to act up to the
highest possible standard; though she admitted that of late she had come to
understand better how that there might be temptation too strong for some –
perhaps for any – dispositions to resist.
It was a source of great amusement in the evening to submit the morning’s work
to James, and to observe how invariably he disapproved of the line taken, and
would have each character act in an entirely different manner; and this,
particularly in the instances where Margaret had dictated the course.
‘I declare,’ said Noel to him one evening when he had been more than usually
captious in his criticisms, ‘you make me think that that story about you at
‘What story?’ asked Margaret.
‘It was told of the early days of his Fellowship that it was so much a matter of
course for him to differ from whatever was said by any one else, that the men
who sat at the same table with him in Hall, once agreed to assent to everything
he might say, and, if possible, to make controversy for once impossible to him.
He was always late in taking his seat, so that the others had assembled in time
to arrange their plans. The conversation which had been going on was stopped for
him to start it afresh. Finding them all silent, he made some remark, which
(p. 315)
was
assented to. He made another remark, and that was assented to also. Somewhat
surprised, he then launched one of his most startling paradoxes but this met
only with the most cordial reception, and not a word was uttered in opposition.
A second paradox shared the same fate; and he is reported to have been so amazed
that he gazed around on his companions, and exclaimed in a tone of anguish,
‘Gentlemen, we are wonderfully unanimous to-day!’
James laughed heartily at the story, and said that he had heard it before, with
a slight variation, but did not know it had been told of himself; adding,
‘Perhaps it might have done me some good to have been told of it; though I am
always an enemy to stagnation, and think it better to fight than die. If I had
to be a Scripture character, I think I should prefer being the angel who stirred
the pool, to any other. By the way, what would yours be?’ he asked of Noel.
‘That depends. To stand, like the Apostle on the hill of Athens, and denounce
the world’s humbug, is a position that has its charms for me. I should like to
have written the poetry of Isaiah and Job, and the glorious utterances ascribed
to Balaam. I wonder the Jews were not too jealous of the Canaanitish prophet to preserve his poetry. But for a single
character, commend me to David. He lived, and he
wrote, too; sinned with his whole heart, and repented with his whole heart: and
lived long enough for sorrow to mellow into sentiment, and to suffuse his poetry
with his own experiences. There was such a thoroughness
about him that I always regret that Shakespeare did not take him for one of his
characters. None but Shakespeare could do justice to David’s pre-eminent
humanity.’
‘Now, Margaret, let us have your confession of faith,’ said James.
‘I am scarcely so familiar with the Scriptures as to be able to make and to
justify my choice as you have both done,’ she said; ‘but I think there is one of
whom it was said that she was forgiven much because she loved much.’
‘A confession, indeed!’ exclaimed Maynard. ‘And for a man’s
wife to make before a third party! A somewhat new line
for you to take, too.’
Fearing to distress her, and to irritate him, Noel restrained the disposition he
felt to laughter, and led the conversation into another and less personal
channel.
(p. 316)
‘The main difficulty that I feel about character-drawing,’ he said, ‘is caused by the impossibility of going to the basis of actions, and referring them to their proper motives. The conduct and relations of people are in so great a degree referable to their physical organisation and temperament, that their lives are unintelligible unless accompanied by such revelations as are either actually unascertainable, or conventionally impossible. An American writer has written a capital story in illustration of the difficulties which beset the popular notion of free-will. His heroine, Elsie Venner, owing to her mother having been bitten by a rattlesnake, inherits a mixture of rattlesnaky and human blood, with character to correspond; and so shows that e may be dependent for our very nature upon something that occurred before we were born. It seems to me that literature, especially that which pretends to be biographical, consists of little else than a series of suppressions: whereas, real art ought to be a revelation.’
‘The question is,’ said Maynard, ‘whether what you require is not already taken
for granted, and the reader interprets what he reads by his knowledge of that
tolerably constant quantity, human nature. To write as you wish to write, you
must become a more than Frenchman. In
‘No doubt we have gained in the purity that postulates ignorance; but I want to combine purity and philosophic analysis.’
‘Did you ever notice,’ asked Maynard, ‘how near Paul was to a great fact when he complained of the law in his members warring against the law of his mind? Had our phrenologists got hold of him, they would soon have explained to him that he had too much brain behind his ears, or that his frontal hemisphere was liable to accessions of excitement which re-acted on his domestic faculties, keeping up a constant struggle between what he thought to be the entities of sin and holiness, but which were in reality only his natural and legitimate faculties struggling for their due exercise. I think that where the critics will quarrel with you will be in your admitting into the domain
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of art a
style of analysis that has hitherto been appropriated by science, theology, or
philosophy.’
‘I hope to attempt it, nevertheless. In the grandest line ever uttered by poet
or prophet I find a perpetual prompter against submitting to a clique or a
fashion: –
“And God fulfils Himself in many ways.” ’
‘Do you know,’ said Maynard, ‘that I rather wonder how it is that you have in
you so much of the spirit of a reformer. Had you been needy, or harassed by
social inequalities, it would be only natural for you to resent your
disabilities.’
‘To each his own,’ answered Noel. ‘You, born with, or developing, a hatred of
ignorance, find your natural outlet in acquiring or imparting knowledge. I,
having somehow got an idea of what the world might be, kick against the
restraining limitations. Thus, science and poetry are not so very far apart from
each other.’
‘Unity of the natural faculties again,’ observed Maynard. ‘It is very curious to
see how constantly the train of modern thought carries us to the idea of unity
in all things: unity of physical life, unity of intellectual life, unity of
moral life, ever revealing itself to the unbiased thought of mankind, until we
find ourselves brought face to face with the idea of universal Oneness, similar
to that which formed the intense and absorbing impression of the founder of
Christianity. None have recognised so vividly as Jesus the unity of the moral
universe with Deity. The famous Frenchman
who has given a new system of philosophy to our age, seems similarly to have
felt the necessity of unity in the physical sciences, before set about to
demonstrate its existence. And yet, though working in precisely the same
direction, Auguste Comte considered himself to be
anti-Christian, and his followers are dubbed Atheists! It is much the same with
our own admirable
‘Another illustration of the multiplicity of the ways in which God fulfils
Himself,’ said Noel, ‘as well as of man’s unconsciousness as to the significance
of his own work. I suppose the truth is that all work done in obedience to the
real spontaneous impulse of any one’s nature, and done conscientiously, helps to
carry forward the development, or, as Paul called it, manifestation, of the
Divine idea in the world; so that those who insist on compliance with arbitrary
standards, hinder progress exactly in so far as they are successful in quenching
the spirit that prompts to original effort.’
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‘And so you come round to my theory of differentiation after all,’ said Maynard, laughing.
‘I would have people follow different directions in order to arrive at the same end, by the route best suited to each individual,’ said Noel; ‘whereas you hold that their ultimate objects should be different. I would have them separate in the hope of meeting again at last; but you would invent and perpetuate differences where natures are the same.’
‘Once upon a time,’ said Maynard, ‘when nearly knocked up with work, I found myself, after sitting up late correcting proofs, dreaming that my article had come out filled with blasphemies and other blunders. Among other things, I appeared to have asserted that God is blue! – and I set myself, in my sleep, to concoct a note explanatory of so startling a dogma. To my surprise on waking, I found not only that the notion, which to my nightmare had seemed so shockingly absurd, had a glimmer of sense in it, but that I had actually lit upon a passable solution; for I had based it upon the fact that the Sanscrit for the firmament is Dyaus, whence come the Greek Zeus and Theos, and the Latin Deus, showing these names of God to be derived from the blue sky.’
‘Doubtless you can with equal plausibility interpret the familiar phrase, “till all’s blue,” ’ said Noel, laughing.
‘Precisely what I was about to do, in illustration of our conversation. It means, till all be finally lost in God, absorbed in Deity, as in the Nirvana of the Buddhists and the heaven of the Evangelicals. Sailors, of course, apply it to the sea, which takes its colour from the sky, and mean by it, till nothing remain above water. I suspect the differences we have been discussing will continue until “all is blue” in the Buddhist sense.’
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