South Wind(Fiscle Part-3), Norman Douglas [most important books of all time .TXT] 📗

The State,  Which Welds Together,  Is Of More

Recent Growth Than The Individualistic Family Or Clan. This Is As Far

As I Care To Go. To Debate Whether One Be Better For Mankind Than The

Other Betrays What I Call An Anthropomorphic Turn Of Mind; It Is

Therefore A Problem Which,  So Far As I Am Concerned,  Does Not Exist. I

Content Myself With Establishing The Fact That Progress And

Civilization Are Incompatible,  Mutually Exclusive."

 

"Do You Mean To Say," Asked The Millionaire,  "That It Is Impossible To

Be Progressive And Civilized At The Same Time?"

 

"That Is What I Mean To Say. Now If America Stands For Progress,  This

Old World May Be Permitted--With A Reasonable Dose Of That Flattery

Which We Accord To The Dead--To Represent Civilization. Tell Me,  Mr. Van

Koppen,  How Do You Propose To Amalgamate Or Reconcile Such Ferociously

Antagonistic Strivings? I Fear We Will Have To Wait For The

Millennium."

 

"The Millennium!" Echoed Mr. Heard. "That Is Another Of Those Unhappy

Words Which Are Always Cropping Up In My Department."

 

"Why Unhappy?" Asked Mr. Van Koppen.

 

"Because They Mean Nothing. The Millennium Will Never Come."

 

"Why Not?"

 

"Because Nobody Wants It To Come. They Want Tangible Things. Nobody

Wants A Millennium."

 

"Which Is Very Fortunate," Observed The Count. "For If They Did,  The

Creator Would Be Considerably Embarrassed How To Arrange Matters,

Seeing That Every Man's Millennium Differs From That Of His Neighbour.

Mine Is Not The Same As Yours. Now I Wonder,  Mr. Van Koppen--I Wonder

What Your Millennium Would Be Like?"

 

"I Wonder! I Believe I Never Gave It A Thought. I Have Had Other Things

To Puzzle Out."

 

And The Millionaire Straightway Proceeded To Think,  In His Usual

Clear-Cut Fashion. "Something With Girls In It," He Soon Concluded,

Inwardly. Then Aloud:

 

"I Guess My Millennium Would Be Rather A Contradictory Sort Of

Business. I Should Require Tobacco,  To Begin With. And The Affair Would

Certainly Not Be Complete,  Count,  Without A Great Deal Of Your Company.

The Millennium Of Other People May Be More Simple. That Of The Duchess,

For Example,  Is At Hand. She Is About To Join The Roman Catholic

Church."

 

"That Reminds Me," Said Mr. Heard. "She Gave Me Some Remarkable

Tea-Cakes Not Long Ago. Delicious. She Said They Were Your Specialty."

 

"You Have Found Them Out,  Have You?" Laughed The American. "I Always

Tell Her That Once A Man Begins On Those Tea-Cakes There Is No Reason

On Earth,  That I Can Think Of,  Why He Should Ever Stop Again. All The

Same,  I Nearly Overate Myself The Other Day. That Was Because We Had A

Late Luncheon On Board. It Shall Never Occur Again--The Late Luncheon,  I

Mean. Have You Discovered,  By The Way,  Whether The Business Of Miss

Wilberforce Has Been Settled?"

 

Mr. Heard Shook His Head."

 

"Is That The Person," Enquired The Count,  "Who Is Reported To Drink To

Excess? I Have Never Spoken To Her. She Belongs Presumably To The Lower

Classes--To Those Who Extract From Alcohol The Pleasurable Emotions

Which We Derive From A Good Play,  Or Music,  Or A Picture Gallery."

 

"She Is A Lady."

 

"Indeed? Then She Has Relapsed Into The Intemperance Of Her Inferiors.

That Is Not Pretty."

 

"Temperance!" Said The Bishop. "Another Of Those Words Which I Am

Always Being Obliged To Use. Pray Tell Me,  Count,  What You Mean By

Temperance."

 

"I Should Call It The Exercise Of Our Faculties And Organs In Such A

Manner As To Combine The Maximum Of Pleasure With The Minimum Of Pain."

 

"And Who Is The Judge Of What Constitutes The Dividing Line Between Use

And Abuse?"

 

"We Cannot Do Better,  I Imagine,  Than Go To Our Own Bodies For An

Answer To That Question. They Will Tell Us Exactly How Far We May

Proceed With Impunity."

 

"In That Case," Said The Millionaire,  "If You Drink A Little Too Much

Occasionally--Only Occasionally,  I Mean!--You Would Not Call That

Intemperance?"

 

"Certainly Not. We Are Not Puritans Here. We Do Not Give Wrong Names To

Things. What You Suggest Would Be By The Way Of A Change,  I

Presume--Like The Eating Of A Pike: Something We Do Not Indulge In Every

Day. If I Were To Come Home A Little Joyful Now And Then,  Do You Know

What These People Would Say? They Would Say: 'The Old Gentleman Is

Pleased To Be Merry To-Night. Bless His Heart! May The Wind Do Him

Good.' But If I Behaved As Miss Wilberforce Is Reported To Do,  They

Would Say: 'That Old Man Is Losing Self-Control. He Is Growing

Intemperate. Every Evening! It Is Not A Pretty Sight.' They Never Call

It Wrong. Their Mode Of Condemnation Is To Say That It Is Not Pretty.

The Ethical Moment,  You Observe,  Is Replaced By An Aesthetic One. That

Is The Mediterranean Note. It Is The Merit Of The Roman Church That She

Left Us Some Grains Of Common Sense In Regard To Minor Morals."

 

The Bishop Remarked:

 

"What I Have Seen Of The Local Catholicism Strikes Me As A Kind Of

Pantomime. That Is The Fault Of My Upbringing,  No Doubt."

 

"Oh,  I Am Not Referring To Externals! Externally,  Of Course,  Our Church

Is The Purest Rococo--"

 

Mr. Heard Was Expanding In This Congenial Atmosphere; He Felt Himself

In Touch With Permanent Things. He Glanced At The Speaker. How Charming

He Looked,  This Silvery-Haired Old Aristocrat! His Ample And Gracious

Personality,  His Leisurely Discourse--How Well They Accorded With The

Environment! He Suggested,  In Manner,  The Secret Of Youth And All That

Is Glad,  Unclouded,  Eternal; He Was A Reflection,  A Belated Flower,  Of

The Classic Splendour Which Lay In Ruins About Him. Such A Man,  He

Thought,  Deserves To Be Happy And Successful. What Joy It Must Have

Been To A Person Of His Temperament--The Chance Discovery Of The Locri

Faun!

 

A Great Stillness Brooded Upon The Enclosure Beyond. The Shadows Had

Shifted. Sunny Patches Lay,  Distributed In Fresh Patterns,  Upon The Old

Brickwork Flooring. An Oval Shaft Of Light,  Glinting Through The

Foliage,  Had Struck The Pedestal Of The Faun And Was Stealthily

Crawling Up Its Polished Surface. He Looked At The Statue. It Was Still

Slumbering In The Shade. But A Subtle Change Had Spread Over The

Figure,  Or Was It,  He Wondered,  Merely A Change In The State Of His Own

Mind,  Due To What The Count Had Said? There Was Energy,  Now,  In Those

Tense Muscles. The Slightest Touch,  He Felt,  Would Unseal The

Enchantment And Cause Life To Flow Through The Dull Metal.

 

Mr. Van Koppen Was Slightly Ruffled.

 

"Are You Not A Little Hard On The Puritans?" He Asked. "Where Would We

Have Been Without Them In America?"

 

"And After All," Added The Bishop,  "They Cleared Up An Infinity Of

Abuses. They Were Temperate,  At All Events! Too Temperate In Some

Matters,  I Am Inclined To Think; They Did Not Always Allow For Human

Weakness. They Went Straight Back To The Bible."

 

The Count Shook His Head Slowly.

 

"The Bible," He Said,  "Is The Most Intemperate Book I Have Ever Read."

 

"Dear Me!"

 

Mr. Van Koppen,  A Tactful Person,  Scented Danger Ahead. He Remarked:

 

"I Did Not Know Italians Read The Bible. Where Did You Become

Acquainted With It?"

 

"In New York. I Often Amused Myself Strolling About The Jewish Quarter

There And Studying The Inhabitants. Wonderful Types,  Wonderful Poses!

But Hard To Decipher,  For A Person Of My Race. One Day I Said To

Myself: I Will Read Their Literature; It May Be Of Assistance. I Went

Through The Talmud And The Bible. They Helped Me To Understand Those

People And Their Point Of View."

 

"What Is Their Point Of View?"

 

"That God Is An Overseer. This,  I Think,  Is The Keynote Of The Bible.

And It Explains Why The Bible Has Always Been Regarded As An Exotic

Among Greco-Latin Races,  Who Are All Pagans At Heart. Our God Is Not An

Overseer; He Is A Partaker. For The Rest,  We Find The Whole Trend Of

The Bible,  Its Doctrinal Tone,  Antagonistic To Those Ideals Of

Equanimity And Moderation Which,  However Disregarded In Practice,  Have

Always Been Held Up Hereabouts As Theoretically Desirable. In Short,  We

Southerners Lack What You Possess: An Elective Affinity With That Book.

One May Wonder How The Morality Of Those Tawny Semites Was Enabled To

Graft Itself Upon Your Alien White-Skinned Race With Such Tenacity As

To Influence Your Whole National Development. Well,  I Think I Have At

Last Puzzled It Out," He Added,  "To My Own Satisfaction At Least."

 

The Bishop Interposed With A Laugh:

 

"I May Tell You,  Count,  That I Am Not In The Episcopal Mood To-Day. Not

At All. Never Felt Less Episcopal In My Life. For That Matter,  It Is

Our English Ecclesiastics Who Have Dealt Some Of The Most Serious Blows

At Biblical Authority Of Late,  With Their Modern Exegesis. Pray Go On!"

 

"I Imagine It Is Nothing But A Matter Of Racial Temperament."

 

"Goth And Latin?"

 

"One Does Not Always Like To Employ Such Terms; They Are So Apt To

Cover Deficiency Of Ideas,  Or To Obscure The Issue. But Certainly The

Sun Which Colours Our Complexion And Orders Our Daily Habits,

Influences At The Same Time Our Character And Outlook. The Almost

Hysterical Changes Of Light And Darkness,  Summer And Winter,  Which Have

Impressed Themselves On The Literature Of The North,  Are Unknown Here.

Northern People,  Whether From Climatic Or Other Causes,  Are Prone To

Extremes,  Like Their Own Myths And Sagas. The Bible Is Essentially A

Book Of Extremes. It Is A Violent Document. The Goth Or Anglo-Saxon Has

Taken Kindly To This Book Because It Has Always Suited His Purposes. It

Has Suited His Purposes Because,  According To His Abruptly Varying

Moods,  He Has Never Been At A Loss To Discover Therein Exactly What He

Wanted--Authority For Every Grade Of Emotional Conduct,  From Savage

Vindictiveness To The Most Abject Self-Abasement. One Thing He Would

Never Have Found,  Had He Cared To Look For It--An Incitement To Live The

Life Of Reason,  To Strive After Intellectual Honesty And Self-Respect,

And To Keep His Mind Open To The Logic Of His Five Senses. That Is Why,

During The Troubled Middle Ages When The Oscillations Of National And

Individual Life Were Yet Abrupter--When,  Therefore,  That Classical

Quality Of Temperance Was More Than Ever At A Discount--The Bible Took

So Firm A Hold Upon You. Its Unquiet Teachings Responded To The Unquiet

Yearnings Of Men. Your Conservatism,  Your Reverence For Established

Institutions,  Has Done The Rest. No! I Do Not Call To Mind Any Passages

In The Bible Commending The Temperate Philosophic Life; Though It Would

Be Strange If So Large A Miscellany Did Not Contain A Few Sound

Reflections. Temperance," He Concluded,  As Though Speaking To

Himself--"Temperance! All The Rest Is Embroidery."

 

Mr. Heard Was Thoughtful. The American Observed:

 

"That Side Of The Case Never Struck Me Before. How About Solomon's

Proverbs?"

 

"Maxims Of Exhaustion,  My Dear Friend. It Is Easy To Preach To Me. I Am

An Old Man. I Can Read Solomon With A Certain Patience. We Want

Something For Our Children--Something Which Does Not Blight Or Deny,  But

Vivifies And Guides Aright; Something Which Makes Them Hold Up Their

Heads. A Friend,  An Older Brother; Not A Pedagogue. I Would Never

Recommend A Boy To Study These Writings. They Would Lower His Spirits

And His Self-Respect. Solomon,  Like All Reformed Debauchees,  Has A

Depressing Influence On The Young."

 

"Do You Know England Well?" Asked Mr. Heard.

 

"Very Little. I Have Spent A Few Days In Liverpool And London,  Here And

There,  On My Periodical Journeyings To The States. Kind Friends Supply

Me With English Books And Papers; The Excellent Sir Herbert Street

Sends Me More Than I Can Possibly Digest! I Confess That Much Of What I

Read Was An Enigma To Me Till I Had Studied The Bible. Its Teachings

Seem To Have Filtered,  Warm And Fluid,  Through The Veins Of Your

National And Private Life. Then,  Slowly,  They Froze Hard,  Congealing

The Whole Body Into A Kind Of Crystal. Your Ethics Are Stereotyped In

Black-Letter Characters. A Gargoyle Morality."

 

"It Is Certainly Difficult," Said Mr. Van Koppen,  "For An Anglo-Saxon

To Appraise This Book Objectively. His Mind Has Been Saturated With It

In Childhood To Such An Extent As To Take On A Definite Bias."

 

"Like The Ancients With Their Iliad. Where Is A Truer Poet Than Homer?

Yet The Worship Of Him Became A Positive Bane To Independent Creative

Thought. What Good Things Could Be Written About The Withering

Influence Of Homer Upon The Intellectual Life Of Rome!"

 

The Bishop Asked:

 

"You Think The Bible Has Done The Same For Us?"

 

"I Think It Accounts For Some Byzantine Traits In Your National

Character And For The Formlessness And Hesitancy Which I,  At Least,

Seem To Detect In The Demeanour Of Many Individual Anglo-Saxons. They

Realize That Their Traditional Upbringing Is Opposed To Truth. It Gives

Them A Sense Of Insecurity. It Makes Them Shy And Awkward. Poise! That

Is What They Need,  And What This Unbalanced Eastern Stuff Will Never

Give Them."

 

"The Withering Influences Of Homer: Surely That Is A Bad Sign?" Asked

The American.

 

"And That Of The Bible?" Added Mr.