Part 30 (1/2)
”And if we're naughty and disobedient, everlasting torment for us; torture of so hideous a kind that we wouldn't inflict it on the basest criminal, not for one single moment!
”Or else, if we're good and do as we are bid, an eternity of bliss so futile, so idle, and so tame that we couldn't stand it for a week, but for thinking of its one horrible alternative, and of our poor brother for ever and ever roasting away, and howling for the drop of water he never gets.
”Everlasting flame, or everlasting dishonor--nothing between!
”Isn't it ludicrous as well as pitiful--a thing to make one sn.i.g.g.e.r through one's tears? Isn't it a grievous sin to believe in such things as these, and go about teaching and preaching them, and being paid for it--a sin to be heavily chastised, and a shame? What a legacy!
”They were shocking bad artists, those conceited, narrow-minded Jews, those poor old doting monks and priests and bigots of the grewsome, dark age of faith! They couldn't draw a bit--no perspective, no chiaro-oscuro; and it's a woful image they managed to evolve for us out of the depths of their fathomless ignorance, in their zeal to keep us off all the forbidden fruit we're all so fond of, because we were built like that! And by whom? By our Maker, I suppose (who also made the forbidden fruit, and made it very nice--and put it so conveniently for you and me to see and smell and reach, Tray--and sometimes even pick, alas!).
”And even at that it's a failure. Only the very foolish little birds are frightened into good behavior. The naughty ones laugh and wink at each other, and pull out its hair and beard when n.o.body's looking, and build their nests out of the straw it's stuffed with (the naughty little birds in black, especially), and pick up what they want under its very nose, and thrive uncommonly well; and the good ones fly away out of sight; and some day, perhaps, find a home in some happy, useful father-land far away, where the Father isn't a bit like this. Who knows?
”And I'm one of the good little birds, Tray--at least, I hope so. And that unknown Father lives in me whether I will or no, and I love Him whether He be or not, just because I can't help it, and with the best and bravest love that can be--the perfect love that believeth no evil, and seeketh no reward, and casteth out fear. For I'm His father as much as He's mine, since I've conceived the thought of Him after my own fas.h.i.+on!
”And He lives in you too, Tray--you and all your kind. Yes, good dog, you king of beasts, I see it in your eyes....
”Ah, bon Dieu Pere, le Dieu des bonnes gens! Oh! if we only knew for _certain_, Tray! what martyrdom would we not endure, you and I, with a happy smile and a grateful heart--for sheer _love_ of such a father! How little should _we_ care for the things of this earth!
”But the poor parson?
”He must w.i.l.l.y-nilly go on believing, or affecting to believe, just as he is told, _word for word_, or else good-bye to his wife and children's bread and b.u.t.ter, his own preferment, perhaps even his very gentility--that gentility of which his Master thought so little, and he and his are apt to think so much--with possibly the Archbishopric of Canterbury at the end of it, the baton de marechal that lies in every clerical knapsack.
”What a temptation! one is but human!
”So how can he be honest without believing certain things, to believe which (without shame) one must be as simple as a little child; as, by-the-way, he is so cleverly told to be in these matters, and so cleverly tells us--and so seldom is himself in any other matter whatever--his own interests, other people's affairs, the world, the flesh, and the devil! And that's clever of him too....
”And if he chooses to be as simple as a little child, why shouldn't I treat him as a little child, for his own good, and fool him to the top of his little bent for his dear daughter's sake, that I may make her happy, and thereby him too?
”And if he's _not_ quite so simple as all that, and makes artful little compromises with his conscience--for a good purpose, of course--why shouldn't I make artful little compromises with mine, and for a better purpose still, and try to get what I want in the way _he_ does? I want to marry his daughter far worse than he can ever want to live in a palace, and ride in a carriage and pair with a mitre on the panels.
”If he _cheats_, why shouldn't I cheat too?
”If _he_ cheats, he cheats everybody all round--the wide, wide world, and something wider and higher still that can't be measured, something in himself. _I_ only cheat _him_!
”_If_ he cheats, he cheats for the sake of very worldly things indeed--t.i.thes, honors, influence, power, authority, social consideration and respect--not to speak of bread and b.u.t.ter! _I_ only cheat for the love of a lady fair--and cheating for cheating, I like my cheating best.
”So, whether he cheats or not, I'll--
”Confound it! what would old Taffy do in such a case, I wonder?...
”Oh, bother! it's no good wondering what old Taffy would do.
”Taffy never wants to marry _anybody's_ daughter; he doesn't even want to paint her! He only wants to paint his beastly ragam.u.f.fins and thieves and drunkards, and be left alone.
”Besides, Taffy's as simple as a little child himself, and couldn't fool any one, and wouldn't if he could--not even a parson. But if any one tries to fool _him_, my eyes! don't he cut up rough, and call names, and kick up a s.h.i.+ndy, and even knock people down! That's the worst of fellows like Taffy. They're too good for this world and too solemn.
They're impossible, and lack all sense of humor. In point of fact, Taffy's a _gentleman_--poor fellow! _et puis voila!_
”I'm not simple--worse luck; and I can't knock people down--I only wish I could! I can only paint them! and not even _that_ 'as they really are!' ... Good old Taffy!...
”Faint heart never won fair lady!
”Oh, happy, happy thought--I'll be brave and win!