Loves Pilgrimage | Page 7

might laugh with the Tories, and even love them for their
foibles--quaint old Samuel Johnson, for instance, because he was poor
and sturdy, and had stood by his trade of bookman; but at bottom
Thyrsis knew that all these men were gilding a corpse. Wordsworth and

Tennyson, Browning and Swinburne --he followed each one as far as
their revolutionary impulse lasted; and after that there was no more in
them for him. Even Ruskin, who taught him the possibilities of English
prose, and opened his eyes to the form and color of the world of
nature--even Ruskin he gave up, because he was a philanthropist and
not a democrat.
Thyrsis had been brought up as a devout Episcopalian. They had
dressed him in scarlet and white to carry the train of the bishop at
confirmation, and had sent him to an afternoon service every day
throughout Lent. Early in life he had stumbled on a paper copy of
Paine's "Age of Reason," and he read it with horror, and then conducted
a private _auto da fé_. But the questions of the book stayed with him,
and as years passed they clamored more loudly. What would have
happened, astronomically, if the sun had stood still? And how many
different species would have had to go into the ark? And what was the
size of a whale's gullet, and the probable digestive powers of a whale's
stomach?
And then came more fundamental difficulties. Could there, after all, be
such a duty as faith in any intellectual matter? Could there be any
revelation superior to reason--must not reason have once decided that it
was a revelation, or was not? And what of all the other "revelations",
which all the other peoples of the world accepted? And then again, if
Jesus had been God, could he really have been tempted? To be God and
man at the same time--did that not mean both to know and not to know?
And was there any way conceivable for anything to be God, in which
everything else was not God?
These perplexities and many others the boy took to his clerical adviser,
a man who loved him dearly, and who gave him some volumes of the
"Bampton lectures" to read. Here was the defense of Christianity,
conducted by authorities, and with scholarship and dignity; and Thyrsis
found to his dismay that the only convincing parts of their books were
where they gave a _résumé_ of the arguments of their opponents. He
learned in this way many difficulties that had not yet occurred to him;
and when he had got through with the reading his mind was made up. If

any man were to be damned for not believing such things, then it was
his duty as a thinker to be damned; and so he bade farewell to the
Church--something which was sad, in a way, for his mother had been
planning him for a bishop!
Section 6. But Thyrsis was throwing away many chances these days.
He went into the higher regions to spend his Christmas holidays; and
instead of being tactful and agreeable, he buried himself in a corner of
the library all day long. For Thyrsis had made the greatest discovery
yet--he had found out Shakespeare! At school they had taught him
"English" by means of "to be or not to be", and they had sought to trap
him at examinations by means of "man's first disobedience and the
fruit"; and so for years they had held him back from the two great
glories of our literature. But now, by accident, he stumbled into "The
Tempest"; and after that he read every line of the plays in two weeks.
He lost his soul in that wonderland; he walked and thought no more
like the men of earth--he dwelt with those lords and princes of the soul,
and learned to speak their language. He would dodge among cable-cars
and trucks with their heavenly melodies in his ears; and while he sung
them his eyes flashed and his heart beat fast:
"Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!"
There were a few days left in those wondrous holidays; and these went
to Milton. There was a set of his works, enormously expensive, which
had been made and purchased with no idea that any human being
would ever read them. But Thyrsis read them, and so all the beauty of
the binding was justified. For hours, and hours upon hours, he drank in
that thunderous music, crying it aloud with his hands clenched tightly,
and stopping to laugh like a child with excitement:
"Th'imperial ensign, which full high advanced, Shone like a meteor
streaming to the wind, With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed,
Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while Sonorous metal blowing