Part 16 (1/2)
That is enough, a great man _settles_ things; a small one nibbles away at petty reforms, although he knows nothing is settled thereby, and that the question is only pushed ahead for the time to break out again directly. English politicians are mostly nibblers, though Gladstone can take a good bite when put to it.
Will you lay ”violent hands upon the Lord's anointed?” ”I'll anoint ye!”
says Cromwell, and then, I take it, was settled for the future the ”divine right of kings” theory; for since that time these curious appendages of a free state have been kept for show, and we hear nothing more of the ”divinity which doth hedge a king.” Some one of the party remarked that we had not seen a statue or even a picture of England's great Protector. I told them a wise man once said that the reason Cromwell's statue was not put among those of the other rulers of England at Westminster was because he would dwarf them. But his day is coming.
We shall have him there in his proper place by and by, and how small hereditary rulers will seem beside him!
[Sidenote: _Cromwell at Drury Lane._]
We noticed in the _Pall Mall Gazette_ a curious proof of Cromwell's place in the hearts of the people of England. The pantomime at Drury Lane had a scene in which all the Kings and Queens of England marched across the stage in gorgeous procession. Each was greeted with cheers or hisses or with more or less cordial greeting as the audience thought deserved. When Cromwell appeared in the line a few hisses were answered by round after round of cheering, and the Lord Protector nightly received a popular ovation far beyond that accorded to any other ruler.
That the manager of the leading theatre in London should have thought it admissible to introduce the Republican among the Kings is a straw which shows a healthy breeze blowing in the political currents of English life.
He was truly a host in himself; besides, his men were fighting for something better than had been, the others only for maintaining what had before existed. It is this which drives Conservatives to the wall when radicalism moves in earnest upon them. The aspirations of the race for further and higher development nerve the arm which strikes down the barriers of an ignorant past. Who could battle enthusiastically only for such incomplete and unsatisfactory development as we have already reached and p.r.o.nounce it good! The prize is not worth it. What the race is capable of achieving in the broad future is the mainspring of our a.s.sault upon every abuse or privilege, the heritage of the past which disgraces the present.
At Preston many of us received letters from home. Harry's funny one from his little daughter Emma (a namesake of our Emma of the Charioteers) gave us a good laugh. I remember there was one announcement particularly noteworthy: ”Ninety dollars gone to smash, papa. The pony's dead.” There is your future special correspondent for you.
At eleven o'clock this evening the party received a notable addition--Andrew M., my old schoolfellow and ”the Maester's son,”
arrived from Dunfermline. He was received at the station by a committee especially appointed for the purpose, and shortly thereafter duly initiated into all the rites and mysteries of the Gay Charioteers. He was required, late as it was, to sing two Scotch songs to determine his eligibility. There may be some man who can sing ”Oh! why left I my hame?”--my favorite at present, and written by Gilfillan in Dunfermline, note that--or ”When the kye come hame,” better than our new member, but none of us has been so fortunate as to meet him, nor have I ever heard one who could sing them as well for me; but there may be a touch of Auld Lang Syne in his voice which strikes chords in my heart and sets them vibrating. There are subtle sympathies lurking in the core of man's nature, responsive to no law but their own, but I notice all press Andrew to sing, and keep very quiet when he does. We had the pleasure of seeing the new member get just as daft as the rest of us next day, gathering wild flowers along the hedgerows, the glittering, towering coach coming up to us. He had time to say: ”Man, this canna be _vera_ bad for us!” No, not very; only we did not know then how bad it would be for us when, after the dream-like existence had pa.s.sed and we were back once more to our labors of this work-a-day world, thrown out as it were from a paradise and falling as Milton's Satan fell; but it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Fortunately we did not know then that for months after our fall there were to be only sad memories of days of happiness so unalloyed that they can never again be equalled. It is not at all desirable to be honestly persuaded that you never again can have seven weeks of such days as made us happy, innocent children; but we shall see. There are as good fish in the sea as were ever caught, and though it is true they do not seem to bite as they used to, may be we can venture to try coaching again. The height of our musical season was during this part of the journey. Miss R., Miss J., and Mrs. K. are all musical and blessed with the power of song. Messrs. M., McC. and K. differ only as one star differs from another in glory; and there was another gentleman, who shall be nameless, who sang without being asked, and who, as usual, was not encored by his unappreciative audience, his being evidently the music of the future.
[Sidenote: _Scotch Songs._]
Davie deserves notice. He sang a beautiful Scotch song to-day, ”Cowden Knowes,” and when he was done Andrew immediately asked: ”Whaur did ye get that? Ye didna get that out of a book!”
Right, my boy. It was at his father's knee. Who ever learnt a Scotch song out of books? They are possessed of souls, these songs, to be caught only from living lips. The bodies alone are to be found within the bars.
Pa.s.sing Bolton we saw the first bowling green, sure proof that we are getting northward, where every village has its green and its bowling club, the ancient game of bowls still offering to rural England attractions paramount to more modern sports.
We lunched at Grisdalebrook, ten miles from Lancaster, which was to be our stopping-place. To-day's drive was made fragrant by the scent of new-mown hay, and we pa.s.sed many bands of merry haymakers. When d.i.c.kens p.r.o.nounced no smell the best smell, he must have momentarily forgotten that which so delighted us. I do give up most of the so-called fine smells, but there are a few better than d.i.c.kens's best, and surely that of to-day is of them. We went into a Catholic church in one of our strolls--for let it be remembered many a glorious tramp we had--and the coach was rarely honored with all the party when a chance to walk presented itself. The requests posted upon the door of this church seemed to carry one back a long way:
”Of your charity pray for the soul of Rebecca Robinson, who died June 7th, 1880, fortified with rites of Holy Church, on whose soul sweet Jesus have mercy. R. I. P.”
There were several such requests. What a power that church has been and is, only one who has travelled the world round can know. In England here it is but a sickly, foreign plant, so fearfully foreign. We can all repeat Buddha's words and apply them to it, but they should not stop here:
”And third came she who gives dark creeds their power, Silabbat-paramasa, sorceress, Draped fair in many lands as lowly Faith, But ever juggling souls with rites and prayers; The keeper of those keys which lock up h.e.l.ls And open Heavens. 'Wilt thou dare?' she said, 'Put by our sacred books, dethrone our G.o.ds, Unpeople all the temples, shaking down That law which feeds the priests and props the realm?'
But Buddha answered, 'What thou bidd'st me keep Is form which pa.s.ses, but the free truth stands; Get thee unto thy darkness.'”
[Sidenote: _The Roman Church._]
Say what we will about the Roman Church, there is something sublime in her att.i.tude. Neither sense nor reason make the slightest impression upon her; for she stands confident in her power and her right to save, denying the power to others, regardless of the conclusions of science and the fuller knowledge of to-day. This gives her the hold she obtains among the ignorant ma.s.ses, whether at home or abroad.
The world-wide influence of this faith can never be rightly estimated until one has visited the missions throughout India, China, and j.a.pan.
The converts are generally to the Catholic church. To-day on the coach in speaking of this, I told an inquirer that in my opinion one, if not the chief, obstacle to the success of missions to the heathen, lies in the differences between the Christian sects, and I ill.u.s.trated it by a story:
One day in China I asked our guide Ah c.u.m, a gentleman and a scholar, and a man of excellent mind, why he did not embrace Christianity. His eyes twinkled as he replied: ”Where goee, eh? Goee Bishopee? (pointing to the Cathedral). He say, allee rightee. Go there? (pointing to the English church). Bishop say damme! Goee Hopper? (the American Presbyterian Missionary). He sayee Bishop churchee no goodee--h.e.l.lee firee. What I do'ee? eh!”
”Stay where you are, you rogue.” Confound the fellow! I did not expect to be picked up in that manner.
Ah c.u.m was severely let alone after that upon the subject of his conversion. I have no hope of him until we agree among ourselves exactly what we wish the heathen to accept. It is in vain we preach one G.o.d and five different religions; there must be only one true religion as well.