Tracks Of A Rolling Stone by Henry J. Coke (free e reader txt) 📖
- Author: Henry J. Coke
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That Speakers Find Sentimental Humanity An Inexhaustible Fund
For Political Capital. The Excess Of Emotional Attributes In
Man Over His Reasoning Powers Must, One Would Think, Have
Been At Least As Great In Times Past As It Is Now. Yet It Is
Doubtful Whether It Showed Itself Then So Conspicuously As It
Does At Present. Compare The Elizabethan Age With Our Own.
What Would Be Said Now Of The Piratical Deeds Of Such Men As
Frobisher, Raleigh, Gilbert, And Richard Greville? Suppose
Lord Roberts Had Sent Word To President Kruger That If Four
English Soldiers, Imprisoned At Pretoria, Were Molested, He
Would Execute 2,000 Boers And Send Him Their Heads? The
Clap-Trap Cry Of 'Barbaric Methods' Would Have Gone Forth To
Some Purpose; It Would Have Carried Every Constituency In The
Country. Yet This Is What Drake Did When Four English
Sailors Were Captured By The Spaniards, And Imprisoned By The
Spanish Viceroy In Mexico.
Take The Elizabethan Drama, And Compare It With Ours. What
Should We Think Of Our Best Dramatist If, In One Of His
Tragedies, A Man's Eyes Were Plucked Out On The Stage, And If
He That Did It Exclaimed As He Trampled On Them, 'Out, Vile
Jelly! Where Is Thy Lustre Now?' Or Of A Titus Andronicus
Cutting Two Throats, While His Daughter ''Tween Her Stumps
Doth Hold A Basin To Receive Their Blood'?
'Humanity,' Says Taine, Speaking Of These Times, 'Is As Much
Lacking As Decency. Blood, Suffering, Does Not Move Them.'
Heaven Forbid That We Should Return To Such Brutality! I
Cite These Passages Merely To Show How Times Are Changed; And
To Suggest That With The Change There Is A Decided Loss Of
Manliness. Are Men More Virtuous, Do They Love Honour More,
Are They More Chivalrous, Than The Miltons, The Lovelaces,
The Sidneys Of The Past? Are The Women Chaster Or More
Gentle? No; There Is More Puritanism, But Not More True
Piety. It Is Only The Outside Of The Cup And The Platter
That Are Made Clean, The Inward Part Is Just As Full Of
Wickedness, And All The Worse For Its Hysterical
Fastidiousness.
To What Do We Owe This Tendency? Are We Degenerating Morally
As Well As Physically? Consider The Physical Side Of The
Question. Fifty Years Ago The Standard Height For Admission
To The Army Was Five Feet Six Inches. It Is Now Lowered To
Five Feet. Within The Last Ten Years The Increase In The
Urban Population Has Been Nearly Three And A Half Millions.
Within The Same Period The Increase In The Rural Population
Is Less Than A Quarter Of One Million. Three Out Of Five
Recruits For The Army Are Rejected; A Large Proportion Of
Them Because Their Teeth Are Gone Or Decayed. Do These
Chapter 36 Pg 197Figures Need Comment? Can You Look For Sound Minds In Such
Unsound Bodies? Can You Look For Manliness, For Self-
Respect, And Self-Control, Or Anything But Animalistic
Sentimentality?
It Is Not The Character Of Our Drama Or Of Our Works Of
Fiction That Promotes And Fosters This Propensity; But May It
Not Be That The Enormous Increase In The Number Of Theatres,
And The Prodigious Supply Of Novels, May Have A Share In It,
By Their Exorbitant Appeal To The Emotional, And Hence
Neurotic, Elements Of Our Nature? If Such Considerations
Apply Mainly To Dwellers In Overcrowded Towns, There Is Yet
Another Cause Which May Operate On Those More Favoured, - The
Vast Increase In Wealth And Luxury. Wherever These Have
Grown To Excess, Whether In Babylon, Or Nineveh, Or Thebes,
Or Alexandria, Or Rome, They Have Been The Symptoms Of
Decadence, And Forerunners Of The Nation's Collapse.
Let Us Be Humane, Let Us Abhor The Horrors Of War, And Strain
Our Utmost Energies To Avert Them. But We Might As Well
Forbid The Use Of Surgical Instruments As The Weapons That
Are Most Destructive In Warfare. If A Limb Is Rotting With
Gangrene, Shall It Not Be Cut Away? So If The Passions Which
Occasion Wars Are Inherent In Human Nature, We Must Face The
Evil Stout-Heartedly; And, For One, I Humbly Question Whether
Any Abolition Of Dum-Dum Bullets Or Other Attempts To
Mitigate This Disgrace To Humanity, Do, In The End, More Good
Than Harm.
It Is Elsewhere That We Must Look For Deliverance, - To The
Overwhelming Power Of Better Educated Peoples; To Closer
Intercourse Between The Nations; To The Conviction That, From
The Most Selfish Point Of View Even, Peace Is The Only Path
To Prosperity; To The Restraint Of The Baser Press Which, For
Mere Pelf, Spurs The Passions Of The Multitude Instead Of
Curbing Them; And, Finally, To Deliverance From The 'All-
Potent Wills Of Little Fathers By Divine Right,' And From The
Ignoble Ambition Of Bullet-Headed Uncles And Brothers And
Cousins - A Curse From Which England, Thank The Gods! Is, And
Let Us Hope, Ever Will Be, Free. But There Are More
Countries Than One That Are Not So - Just Now; And The World
May Ere Long Have To Pay The Bitter Penalty.
Chapter 37 Pg 198
It Is Curious If One Lives Long Enough To Watch The Change Of
Taste In Books. I Have No Lending-Library Statistics At
Hand, But Judging By The Reading Of Young People, Or Of Those
Who Read Merely For Their Amusement, The Authors They
Patronise Are Nearly All Living Or Very Recent. What We Old
Stagers Esteemed As Classical In Fiction And Belles-Lettres
Are Sealed Books To The Present Generation. It Is An
Exception, For Instance, To Meet With A Young Man Or Young
Woman Who Has Read Walter Scott. Perhaps Balzac's Reason Is
The True One. Scott, Says He, 'Est Sans Passion; Il
L'ignore, Ou Peut-Etre Lui Etait-Elle Interdite Par Les
Moeurs Hypocrites De Son Pays. Pour Lui La Femme Est Le
Devoir Incarne. A De Rares Exceptions Pres, Ses Heroines
Sont Absolument Les Memes ... La Femme Porte Le Desordre Dans
La Societe Par La Passion. La Passion A Des Accidents
Infinis. Peignez Donc Les Passions, Vous Aurez Les Sources
Immenses Dont S'est Prive Ce Grand Genie Pour Etre Lu Dans
Toutes Les Familles De La Prude Angleterre.' Does Not
Thackeray Lament That Since Fielding No Novelist Has Dared To
Face The National Affectation Of Prudery? No English Author
Who Valued His Reputation Would Venture To Write As Anatole
France Writes, Even If He Could. Yet I Pity The Man Who Does
Not Delight In The Genius That Created M. Bergeret.
A Well-Known Author Said To Me The Other Day, He Did Not
Believe That Thackeray Himself Would Be Popular Were He
Writing Now For The First Time - Not Because Of His Freedom,
But Because The Public Taste Has Altered. No Present Age Can
Predict Immortality For The Works Of Its Day; Yet To Say That
What Is Intrinsically Good Is Good For All Time Is But A
Truism. The Misfortune Is That Much Of The Best In
Literature Shares The Fate Of The Best Of Ancient Monuments
And Noble Cities; The Cumulative Rubbish Of Ages Buries Their
Splendours, Till We Know Not Where To Find Them. The Day May
Come When The Most Valuable Service Of The Man Of Letters
Will Be To Unearth The Lost Treasures And Display Them,
Rather Than Add His Grain Of Dust To The Ever-Increasing
Middens.
Is Carlyle Forgotten Yet, I Wonder? How Much Did My
Contemporaries Owe To Him In Their Youth? How Readily We
Followed A Leader So Sure Of Himself, So Certain Of His Own
Evangel. What An Aid To Strength To Be Assured That The True
Hero Is The Morally Strong Man. One Does Not Criticise What
One Loves; One Didn't Look Too Closely Into The Doctrine
That, Might Is Right, For Somehow He Managed To Persuade Us
That Right Makes The Might - That The Strong Man Is The Man
Who, For The Most Part, Does Act Rightly. He Is Not Over-
Patient With Human Frailty, To Be Sure, And Is Apt, As
Herbert Spencer Found, To Fling About His Scorn Rather
Recklessly. One Fancies Sometimes That He Has More Respect
For A Genuine Bad Man Than For A Sham Good One. In Fact, His
'Eternal Verities' Come Pretty Much To The Same As Darwin's
Chapter 37 Pg 199'Law Of The Advancement Of All Organic Bodies'; 'Let The
Strong Live, And The Weakest Die.' He Had No Objection To
Seeing 'The Young Cuckoo Ejecting Its Foster-Brothers, Or
Ants Making Slaves.' But He Atones For All This By His
Hatred Of Cant And Hypocrisy. It Is For His Manliness That
We Love Him, For His Honesty, For His Indifference To Any
Mortal's Approval Save That Of Thomas Carlyle. He Convinces
Us That Right Thinking Is Good, But That Right Doing Is Much
Better. And So It Is That He Does Honour To Men Of Action
Like His Beloved Oliver, And Fritz, - Neither Of Them
Paragons Of Wisdom Or Of Goodness, But Men Of Doughty Deeds.
Just About This Time I Narrowly Missed A Longed-For Chance Of
Meeting This Hero Of My Penates. Lady Ashburton - Carlyle's
Lady Ashburton - Knowing My Admiration, Kindly Invited Me To
The Grange, While He Was There. The House Was Full - Mainly
Of Ministers Or Ex-Ministers, - Cornewall Lewis, Sir Charles
Wood, Sir James Graham, Albany Fonblanque, Mr. Ellice, And
Charles Buller - Carlyle's Only Pupil; But The Great Man
Himself Had Left An Hour Before I Got There. I Often Met Him
Afterwards, But Never To Make His Acquaintance. Of Course, I
Knew Nothing Of His Special Friendship For Lady Ashburton,
Which We Are Told Was Not Altogether Shared By Mrs. Carlyle;
But I Well Remember The Interest Which Lady Ashburton Seemed
To Take In His Praise, How My Enthusiasm Seemed To Please
Her, And How Carlyle And His Works Were Topics She Was Never
Tired Of Discussing.
The South Western Line To Alresford Was Not Then Made, And I
Had To Post Part Of The Way From London To The Grange. My
Chaise Companion Was A Man Very Well Known In 'Society'; And
Though Not Remarkably Popular, Was Not Altogether
Undistinguished, As The Following Little Tale Will Attest.
Frederick Byng, One Of The Torrington Branch Of The Byngs,
Was Chiefly Famous For His Sobriquet 'The Poodle'; This He
Owed To No Special Merit Of His Own, But Simply To The
Accident Of His Thick Curly Head Of Hair. Some, Who Spoke
Feelingly Of The Man, Used To Declare That He Had Fulfilled
The Promises Of His Youth. What Happened To Him Then May
Perhaps Justify The Opinion.
The Young Poodle Was Addicted To Practical Jokes - As Usual,
More Amusing To The Player Than To The Playee. One Of His
Victims Happened To Be Beau Brummell, Who,
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